9. Consequences
The door behind Harvey closes with a soft click and he draws in a ragged breath, the sound highlighting the tension in the silent house as he trails Paula into her living room. She'd waited for him outside the firm but hadn't said two words in the cab ride, her expression set somewhere between stern and hurt, and he jams his hands into his pockets when she continues through to the kitchen.
She surfaces a few minutes later, a glass of wine clutched tightly in her hand, and he watches her slump on the edge of the sofa with a heavy sigh.
He has no idea what to say. Neither he nor Donna did anything wrong, the fact steering him away from a forced apology. But he owes Paula an explanation. She shouldn't have been blinded by the situation like she was and he's prepared to take full responsibility for that. "Paula, I—"
"Is it an affair?" She snaps the accusation, her grip shaking as she takes a sip of wine to steady her nerves. Deep down she doesn't believe he would actually cheat, not after everything he went through with his mother, but she'd been naïve in her last relationship and had her heart broken because of it.
"What—" he blows out a harsh breath, pulling his hand up and dragging it through his hair. "Of course not."
She turns her head to look at him, equally frustrated. "What am I supposed to think, Harvey? You've been lying to me—"
"I never lied," he defends adamantly. Technically, it's the truth. He'd had every intention of telling her about Donna's case over dinner but things escalated faster than he was expecting, and his mind is still reeling as he kicks his feet, closing the distance between them. "You said we wouldn't survive if I kept working with Donna. You never said—"
"Don't you dare try to lawyer your way out of this." She stops whatever excuse he's about to wield, not interested in technicalities, but if that's the game he wants to play, she can easily deliver her own. "I told you it felt like there were three people in this relationship, and that hasn't changed."
The bite to her anger makes him flinch. Regardless of how the situation is being perceived, Donna came to him for help, and he would never turn his back on someone he cares about. But they'll keep going round in circles if he stays on the offensive, so he tries to make her see the situation for what it is. "Donna was assaulted—" he forces his guard down "—by a director she works with. That's why she was in my office, and that's the case I wanted to talk to you about at dinner."
She fingers the stem of her wine glass, believing the explanation, but the revelation doesn't make her more settled. Instead, it colors the memory of how she'd discovered him this morning—twisted over the toilet bowl and on the verge of having a panic attack, which pushes her concern to the surface. "Is Donna okay?"
He nods, grateful for the recognition and hoping they can gain some traction now she knows what happened. "Rattled, understandably. Asshole grabbed her, but she stopped things from going any further."
He flexes his fist, and she's drawn to the movement, taking in the swelling across his knuckles. She can almost validate his anger. The situation would have been awful for Donna, but it's the way he'd physically lashed out that fuels the dread crawling beneath her skin.
Back at his office he'd looked straight through her as if she didn't exist and it's the only time she's ever seen him wearing his emotions and vulnerability so openly.
He might be standing in her living room now, but she feels a million miles away from his thoughts, and she's tired of fighting to drag them out when all Donna has to do is show up to make him be present. In her eyes, his explanation doesn't excuse anything. The justification just makes it all the more clear that she was right about struggling to survive if he and Donna couldn't lessen their dependencies on each other. And obviously they can't.
"Tell me honestly—" she breathes in sharply, not daring to look at him, "—if Donna called right now, would you answer?"
It's not a fair question. The way they'd left things, Donna would only reach out if something was wrong, and if that were the case, he couldn't ignore it. "Yes, but—"
"I know you care about her and you're worried." She defends her position before he can argue it. "I'm not saying that's the issue but Donna has other people in her life. This is about us and if you can't change your answer to that question then it's about her—and I need you to understand the difference."
She finally glances up, raw tears shining through her gaze, and a lump digs into his throat. He goddamn knows the difference. He put their relationship first, above everything else—including Donna—to show her he was fully committed, and if she can't see that, then he doesn't know what the hell they're even doing. "I did exactly what you asked me to," he pushes back, deliberately skirting around her question. "I let her go—"
"No, you didn't, Harvey," she snaps, frustrated by his avoidance. "If you had, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."
The reason is bullshit. He can understand her past hesitation, that she was feeling insecure, but he's done everything he can to assure her Donna isn't a threat, and the way she's attacking him is nothing short of controlling. "You don't get to decide who I can or shouldn't see."
"That's not what this is about," she counters, keeping a tight hold on the glass in front of her. She'd never once told him he couldn't see Donna. It was her assumption that the three of them had come to a mutual agreement that benefited all of them in the long run, but the way his face tenses makes her wince.
"Then what the hell is it about, Paula? Because I need Donna in my life and if you can't accept that, then I don't know where we go from here—" the statement bolsters out before he can fully process it, but Paula latches straight on.
"That right there, is exactly my point."
He looks confused by the remark, and she staggers her breathing, feeling trapped by the weight of his ignorance. For weeks she'd thought he was finding himself and now she has no idea if that was her input or Donna's influence being reflected back on him, but based on past experiences she can hazard an educated guess."When she isn't around, you lose yourself, Harvey. And I gave it time. I waited, hoping you would talk to me, but you didn't. You let me think things were okay, and then you went running straight back to her."
"It wasn't like that," he argues, knowing whatever's she's manifested in her head isn't even close to the truth. "We spoke on the phone after the wedding, that was it, up until the other night."
The timeline clicks into place and she takes a large sip of wine, the liquid swirling around her reaffirmed fears—that the reason he'd been coping so well had nothing to do with her. "You talked to Donna about Mike leaving."
It's not a question, the flash of anger in her gaze escaping him. "What does that have to do with—"
"Everything, Harvey." She abandons her glass, conscious of using the prop to hide behind. "You went to her instead of me, again."
"I was with you. I chose you," he argues, not sure how else to bare himself. The call had been a five-minute conversation, but he'd been with Paula every night, coming home to her, and he doesn't understand how she can't goddamn see that.
"Then answer my question," she snaps, angling her body toward him. "Who would you choose right now if Donna called?"
He breathes in deeply, keeping a firm resolve because nothing has changed since. He would still need to know Donna wasn't in trouble, but that doesn't mean what Paula is implying it does. "You know that isn't fair."
The derailment sends a hot flush crawling along her skin and she pushes herself to stand as tall as she can. When he'd first asked her out it had been after his therapy ended but the imprint of their sessions is lingering now more than ever. Donna was the catalyst for his panic attacks, and at the time she'd truly believed Donna wasn't the reason behind them, but faced with everything that's happened, she's no longer sure of that fact. "It's fairer than being with me when you're really in love with her."
He grinds his jaw, tired of repeatedly having to defend the accusation. "I don't know how many times you need me to say it, Paula. I'm not in love with Donna."
"Once," she challenges, deliberately giving him no chance to deflect. "If you can look me in the eye and say you need me more than her, I won't ever mention it again."
He holds her gaze—all the moments Donna has been there for him stalling the words out of his mouth. When his father died, after Jessica left, the late night phone calls, her unwavering faith in him—everything.
"You can't, because it isn't true…" she answers for him, his hesitation shattering the reality she'd been clinging onto and the fight inside her quickly withers and turning bitter. "I don't know who I pity more. You for not admitting it to yourself, or Donna, for—"
"Don't."
His voice borders on a growl, the warning not to insult Donna fueling her hurt. Even having his own integrity questioned, he's wired to protect Donna first, and maybe she pities herself the most—for believing he would ever stand up for them—her—in the same way. "She isn't here and you're still diving in front of a train to defend her."
"Because she hasn't done anything," he fires back, throwing out a wayward hand. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't made her resign in the first place!"
The blame stings like a slap to the face. She had no control over the circumstances that led to Donna getting hurt but the way his eyes flash with resentment makes it obvious he thinks she's in some way responsible. "I didn't force her into that job, Harvey, and I definitely didn't make you hide that you were seeing her again… but clearly Donna comes first, right?"
The dig is laced with sarcasm, and frustration he doesn't have an outlet for burns through his chest. There was nothing to hide. There never was, and he's not going to stand around being threatened with more ultimatums. That's not who he is, and he forces down the hurt coiling inside him, even pushes aside his ego—because despite what she thinks, he wanted things to work between them. He goddamn tried, and the finality that it's over slams him hard, but not as deeply as it would have if he stayed. "I should go."
"I think that's for the best."
He doesn't flinch, and she doesn't say anything else.
The silent communication is clear—they can't salvage their relationship, it's finished, and he squares his shoulders, confirming out loud what they both know is happening.
"Goodbye, Paula."
He turns his back against her silence, taking her keys from his pocket as he moves through her house, dropping them in the bowl by her front door.
It's anticlimactic—like everything they've been through should have amounted to more than just a soft click as he leaves her house for the last time.
But that's all there is to it.
The dull ache he feels is bearable, not suffocating. It stings but nowhere near as much as the point she'd highlighted; he'd let Donna leave the firm when he should have put her first—made sure she was really okay.
And he's determined to fix the mistake.
…
...
Donna clutches her purse, her heart pounding as she makes her way through a group of people to the darker recesses of the bar. She deliberately let Collin choose the place, her only stipulation being that he picked a location where they could have a conversation, not be distracted by pulsing music or hoards of twenty-something-year-olds.
She'd also stressed that talking was her only intention—half expecting he would hang up there and then.
But he hadn't.
He'd surprised her by suggesting a popular jazz venue, and the dulcet sway of the mellow tunes works to calm her nerves as she spots him waiting, perched over a table with a drink already in his hand.
She could use one herself—several—but she steels herself against the urge until she can gauge if he's here to listen or has another agenda. She's not walking into this blind but by making the first move is at least taking some control back, and she steers herself to where he's waiting, pushing a forced smile onto her lips.
He glances up at her approach, acknowledging her with a guarded expression. "Donna." He sets his glass down, angling his body towards her. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you decided to reach out." After her declaration claiming she had his father's unwavering approval, he'd expected her to slink away with her tail between her legs—and maybe he should know better than to indulge her with more attention but his ego had driven him to engage his curiosity.
She takes in the bruise forming under his eye which doesn't lessen her anger towards him or Harvey but it does make her feel more confident that Collin can't misconstrue her intentions. "I wanted you to know that I don't condone what happened today."
"I appreciate—"
"But you need to understand that your behaviour the other night was completely inappropriate." She fixes him with the stern dressing down. Regardless of what happens with her job, if he can't acknowledge his actions were wrong, then she fully intends to take matters further. "If you can't recognize that, then I have nothing else to say here."
Anger rushes hotly through his veins but he keeps it simmering below the surface of his impulses. The only thing he did wrong was not making sure she understood her place the second she walked through the doors at his company, but the stakes are higher now, and he wants to watch her crash and burn more than he needs instant gratification. "Then I apologize. I thought we had an understanding, clearly I was mistaken."
The deadly calm of his voice unsettles her, but she forces herself to take a breath. "And my job?"
"Is still up for debate…" he muses, taking a sip of his drink, and landing the glass back on the table between them. "As are the pending charges against your lawyer."
She stiffens at the threat. No matter how angry she is at Harvey, there's part of her that will always be driven to protect him. "If you go after him, you're only going to make things worse for yourself."
He smirks, rising to the challenge in her gaze. "I have a whole floor of witnesses who saw him assault me." He lords over her. "You have what we've both just acknowledged was a misunderstanding. I'd be very careful about your next move if I were you."
"Asshole." She has no shame in letting the cuss slip out. He may think he's untouchable but she has an entire HR department that will claim otherwise, and she knows the second he's backed against a wall with testimonies, he won't be able to rely on the arrogance he's been coasting on. "We're done here and consider this a warning," she stares him down with a harsh glare. "If you push Harvey, he'll come back swinging twice as hard, and I'm not just talking about your face." She turns on her heel, a rush of adrenaline leading her towards the exit.
Confronting him wasn't a mistake.
She's completely sure where she stands now, but she isn't going to be blackmailed into getting her job back or putting Harvey's situation above her own needs. She's always going to care about him, but he'd made his bed with Pullman and Paula.
She has to focus on protecting herself and the people Collin's abused with his power. If that means distancing herself from Harvey, then maybe it's finally time they cut the cord.
AN: Adios, Paula! ;) Thank you to everybody who stuck with this story and has put up with her hahaha. And for all the amazing commets and reviews! And as always to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for giving me the motivation and tools so that words make sense :D xXxx