THAT PARIS WEEKEND CHAPTER 4
Just before six in the evening, Harvey arrives at the Ritz Paris. Gretchen managed to book the last available room as all the hotels are full for the late spring tourist season. He had hoped to find space at Donna's hotel, but maybe this is for the best. If it all goes up in flames, at least he'll have somewhere to retreat.
Tired and emotionally spent, Harvey drops his luggage, throws the key on the bed and heads straight for the shower. He needs to wash the last 24 hours off and calm his nerves.
After toweling off, he shaves and takes a look around. For a last-minute find, the room is comfortable.
Gretchen did good.
He selects a pair of dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. It's one of Donna's favourite looks and, tonight, he needs all the help he can get.
Donna's hotel is a 15-minute walk so Harvey decides to go on foot, hoping it might help release the anxiousness he's feeling. It's his first time in the City of Lights, but he is too distracted to notice anything. As he steps out onto the sidewalk, he takes a nervous breath and runs his fingers through his hair.
How can he manage this mess without losing her in the process?
This is going to hurt.
Harvey has to hand it to Thomas, Le Bristol Paris is a gorgeous hotel – polished marble floors, a dramatic, sweeping staircase, paintings and tapestries throughout, and flower boxes on every window. The furnishings, reproductions from Louis XV's collection, add an old-world elegance to the space. This is definitely Donna's kind of place.
As he makes his way to the elevators, Harvey catches sight of a large enclosed courtyard brimming with greenery. A bubbling stone fountain and twinkling patio lights create a romantic atmosphere as guests sample the wines and cheeses of the region. Harvey imagines that, if were not for him, Donna and Thomas would probably be doing the very same thing right now.
Feeling unsettled, he steps on the elevator and makes his way up to the fifth floor.
xxx
Donna is putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she hears a knock on the door. For a split second, it sounds like a "Harvey" knock, and she scolds herself in the mirror for even thinking such a thing.
"One second!" she hollers, curious as to why Thomas doesn't use his key.
Throwing caution to the wind, Donna is wearing the very black, very lacy, very sexy cocktail dress she had just purchased from a boutique around the corner. The halter front is open down to her navel. Scalloped lace and silk lightly cover her breasts, revealing the trickle of golden freckles in between. The back is completely exposed, except for a delicate piece of lace teasing her panty line.
This outfit is definitely more risqué than what she's used to wearing. It feels more like lingerie than something she would take out in public. But this is Paris, and the boutique owner assured her that if she wanted to make a statement, this dress was it.
With her red locks bouncing to the door, she turns the knob. "Did you miss me Mr. Kessler? Because I've missed…"
Donna's face suddenly drops, and with a shaky hand, she squeezes the doorknob tightly in an effort to steady herself. For a second, her vision goes blurry, as if her eyes are trying to protect her from what lies before her. She blinks, and Harvey has never seen such a look of panic on her face.
"Harvey?" she asks, as if she's still not convinced it's actually him.
"What are you doing here?"
"Did something happen?"
"Who died?"
"Is it my father?"
"Where's Thomas?"
She's firing off questions like bullets and Harvey thinks he's going to be sick.
"Donna." Harvey's heart is beating so fast it's pounding in his ears. He doesn't dare pass the threshold.
"Everyone is ok, but I need to talk to you." His voice cracks even though he's trying his best to appear calm.
Realizing what she is wearing, Donna steps back and crosses her arms. Her eyes are as wide as saucers and she can barely breathe.
What the hell is happening right now?
Harvey's eyes are sad, but it doesn't stop them from tracing the outline of her dress. She looks stunning.
Donna feels the heat of his gaze. She takes another step back, protectively adjusting her arms to tightens the grip around her chest. She doesn't want to look at him, so for a second, she closes her eyes and looks away.
"Thomas will be here any min…" her voice resolute.
Harvey cuts her off. "He's not coming."
She shakes her head, and lets out a frustrated laugh. "You might find this hard to believe, Harvey, but he invited me." She can feel the bile rising to her throat. "I don't know what you think you're doing here, but it's not going to work."
Harvey takes a deep breath, steps inside, and gently pushes the door closed behind him. Donna is so taken aback with what is happening that she doesn't even notice. They've had their fair share of fights in public places, and Harvey doesn't want to make a scene here. He expects this is going to be a bad one.
"He's married."
"Jesus Christ, Harvey! You came all the way here to tell me that?" she snaps. "He's divorced, actually! The firm represented him in the settlement. He told me everything. What the hell is wrong with you?!"
She doesn't know where to begin with him. "You just can't help yourself can you? You say you're happy for me, but you're not, are you?! I'm so fucking done with this!"
Her anger is raining down hard on him now and it makes his skin itch. But this is what they do. When one of them is weak, the other holds strong.
"That was his first wife," he states calmly determined to ignore her venom and give her time to process what he is saying. "He's not who he says he is, Donna. He has a wife and son in Connecticut."
Harvey decides to spare her all the details of Thomas's sordid life. She's hurt enough.
Donna shakes her head in disbelief, her mind trying to keep up with what is happening.
"Connecticut? How did you… Vanessa?"
He offers a weak nod. He feels ashamed, but after the Stephen incident, he couldn't help himself. Even if Donna doesn't want him, Harvey needed to make sure that whoever that lucky guy is, that he deserves her.
Her tears begin to fall and a wave of nausea hits her like a punch to the gut.
"So what? You think it's ok to just hire a private investigator every time I get asked out on a date?!" Her voice is shaky. Her arms are flailing now. She's coming undone. "Do you know how shitty that makes me feel?!"
"Let me explain…" he offers, an arm reaching for her.
"Forget it, Harvey! You just couldn't let me be happy for one God damn weekend, could you?!" She waves him away. "Go to hell!"
"Donna…"
Her hand is on her mouth, ready to contain the sob that's coming. Donna gives him one final hurt-filled look before turning way. She storms into the bathroom, slams the door and collapses to the floor.
Harvey slowly walks over to the bed. He sits on the edge, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Hot tears hit the floor between his feet, so he squeezes his eyes tight to control the flow. Listening to Donna's muffled sobs through the door, Harvey feels like complete shit. He's desperate to force the door open and hold her until she stops. He wants to tell her that she deserves better and more and everything.
But he knows she won't have it. Not from him. Not after this.
She might very well hate him, but Harvey isn't leaving.