Chapter 5: Monday 6th September

Harvey pours himself a glass of scotch, grabs the bottle and heads over to the balcony of his New York apartment, preferring the hum of the city to the silence indoors.

He has never been one to crave a weekend or a vacation. He's usually glad to get back to work after Easter, or Thanksgiving, or Christmas, if he'd ever stopped working in the first place. But he hadn't been ready for this short vacation to end.

Dropping Donna off at her own apartment and leaving without her had felt all wrong. He wanted, with every fiber of his being, to bring her back with him, to be here with her now.

Standing at the threshold of her apartment earlier this evening, he hadn't known what to do. A kiss on her cheek? A hug? Nothing felt right, so he did nothing. He stood there awkwardly like an idiot for a bit, then said an abrupt goodbye.

And now he's here, alone. Home doesn't feel like home tonight (has it ever, he wonders): it feels sterile, empty, depressing. His penthouse used to feel like a symbol of his successes. Tonight it feels like a sure sign of his failures.

He picks up his phone, thinks about messaging Donna. His finger hovers over her name. But there's nothing he can say that's both true and helpful. The truth is, he misses her like crazy, wants to head over to her apartment, stay forever. But that won't help if they're putting this behind them. That's what they agreed. And anything else would be a big mistake, he is certain.

When he'd planned the trip, he'd just wanted to make sure she had a good time, and do a thorough job of taking her mind off everything with Stephen. He also, more selfishly, wanted to maximise the window in which he'd get to revisit the other time, which he'd never succeeded in banishing from his mind. In fact, it was his go to fantasy.

It hadn't occurred to him that they would end up jeopardising the status quo they'd carefully established. He'd never really allowed his conscious mind to explore the idea of a real relationship with Donna, though his subconscious mind periodically went there in his dreams. But now he was picturing the two of them together for the vacations and holidays and all those special occasions she had spoken about.

Would she want that with him? She said she wanted more too, but she didn't explicitly include him in that. She would done, if she meant that, wouldn't she?

Whatever the case, actually it just isn't an option, he tells himself. He'd screw it up, for sure. He downs the scotch and grimly pours himself another.

He could use the advice of someone he trusts. Not that he always takes the advice he's given. He remembers one time, years ago now, when he went to his dad for advice, and the conversation had turned to relationships relationships. And Donna, in fact.

Harvey needs some time out of New York to think about his dilemma with Cameron. He'd found he'd been burying evidence to make sure a bad guy got put away, and he had to decide whether to be part of that or not. On a whim, he takes the train to Boston first thing on Saturday morning. His dad isn't home, and Harvey correctly figures he'll find him at the batting cage in the park.

After they've thrown the ball around for a while, Harvey tells his dad about Cameron. His dad says that Cameron's behavior is likely to be a repeated pattern, and if Harvey helps him once, he will do it again, establishing a pattern of his own, that people do that. He tells him that Lily had form for cheating before he married her.

Later, they head to a bar. One drink in, his dad brings up Donna, who he'd recently met.

"So, Donna seems pretty special," says Gordon, his voice loaded with meaning.

"Yeah, she is. She's… What are you getting at dad?"

"You know what I'm getting at, son."

"I'm not looking for that, not with anyone."

"Doesn't life get a little lonely?"

"I have no trouble finding company," Harvey smirks.

"I'm talking about true love, son. The kid of an artist and a musician, and not a romantic bone in your body?" His dad shakes his head with a smile.

"I'm not gonna screw up what I have with Donna. It's better the way it is."

Harvey determines to change the subject, standing up: "You want another beer?"

"Sit down son. Why would you screw up?"

"Dad, do we have to do this?" he whines. He thought he was done having these embarrassing conversations when he left his teens.

"I don't want you to think that just because it went wrong for your mother and me, you can't find happiness with someone. What if I want grandkids someday?"

"You've got Marcus for that."

"Marcus and Katie are no good if I want red-headed grandkids. Who can actually hit a ball."

"Dad!"

"Harvey. You can learn from our mistakes. You don't have to repeat them."

"You mean Lily's mistakes."

"No, I mean our mistakes. I have a hard time with how Lily handled things with you, I do. And like I said before, she had form for cheating. But Harvey, I wasn't a good husband. She wasn't the only one to blame.

"You were a great husband. A great dad," says Harvey emphatically. He doesn't want to hear any excuses for Lily.

"I wasn't. I persuaded her to have kids young. I couldn't wait to be a dad. And when you and Marcus came along, I loved you both more than I can say. But parenthood is hard. We were kids ourselves when we had you. We had no idea what we were getting into. And I put it all on your mom.

"I expected her to sacrifice everything, and I got to carry on like nothing had happened. Travelling with the band for weeks on end. Going out any time I chose. I don't think she picked up a paintbrush for about ten years when you were little.

"I regret that now. I regret a lot of my choices. But the three of you, yes, your mom included, brought me so much joy. I want that for you."

They sit in silence for a few moments. Gordon sighs.

"OK Harvey, how about those beers?"

He'd taken his dad's advice about Cameron, which years later turned out to be spot on. But he didn't take his advice about Donna.

Whether it's down to his parents' genes, their poor example, or just something fundamental about him, his own pattern of behavior was already clear. He has a less-than-stellar romantic track record. He'd disappointed every woman he'd tried a relationship with, hurt them, and himself, in the process, and lost them. And he'd been ok, but he isn't sure he'd be ok if he lost Donna.

He hopes he'd never cheat like Lily. But he could all too easily see himself putting work over family like his dad. He's done it before. He wasn't there Marcus was sick, when Haley was born, when his dad reached out right before he died...

No, he wouldn't be able to sustain the perfect boyfriend act from this weekend. He'd let her down, and sooner rather than later. It wouldn't work, and she'd be gone, and he'd miss her so damn much.

But then he misses her now, he thinks sadly, re-entering his apartment, setting his glass down on the counter and heading over to his bedroom.

He gets ready for bed, then flops down, picking up his phone and scrolling through a few pictures of the weekend that Donna sent him. They look so happy. He finds it hard to associate the smiling Harvey on his phone with his New York self. He stares at a photo of the two of them together looking like the epitome of coupled-up contentment, then tosses his phone on the bed and stands up abruptly.

He pulls open a drawer and reaches under the sweaters to pull out a framed photo. The picture was taken at the gig where his dad first met Donna. They'd struck up a friendship of sorts over the phone when his dad called to speak to Harvey, so his dad had invited Donna along, and, to his surprise, she'd said yes.

They'd stayed late after the gig, drinking with the band. Donna had had them all eating out of the palm of her hand, he remembered with a smile. Just as they were leaving, his dad had got the barman to take a group photo.

In the picture, young Donna is looking directly at the camera, tipsy, laughing, beautiful. Young Harvey is looking at her like there's no one else in the room, a soft smile on his face.

The photo used to sit on top of his drawers with a bunch of other pictures. When he first got his apartment, Donna had informed him that it lacked the personal touch. She had taken it upon herself to buy some frames, and asked Marcus for some family photos to fill them.

So there's Harvey and his dad at his Harvard graduation; Harvey and Marcus in Marcus's new restaurant; and Harvey holding Haley as a baby, a look of awkward fascination on his face.

There had also been one of him playing baseball as a kid, but when his dad sent this picture, probably not long after his trip to Boston, he'd replaced that with this. It saved the bother of getting an extra frame, and he wasn't keen on any reminders of his childhood in any case.

The photo has stayed there alongside the others for years until he'd shoved it in a drawer the first time Scottie came back to his apartment. Ostensibly it's just a picture of him with his dad's band, but he'd thought Donna's presence might open a whole can of worms.

He notices the picture has slipped in its frame, so he takes it out to adjust it. He sees with a jolt that there's a message on the back, scrawled in his dad's handwriting. He must have seen it at the time, but he'd forgotten about it.

Thought you might like this for your fancypants new apartment. If she brings you joy don't overthink it son. Keep hold of her.

Harvey replaces the picture and stands the frame on his nightstand, deep in thought.

Donna has always brought him joy: he can see it clearly in those pictures, taken so many years apart. But the only way he knows how to keep hold of her is to keep things the way they always have been.

He switches off the light and lies for a while, staring at the ceiling. Sleep doesn't come

He snaps the light back on and buries the photo back in the drawer. Don't be a pussy, he thinks. He needs to conquer this.

Across town, Donna scrolls through photos of the weekend, lingering over a shot of her and Harvey together. Tonight it feels like a part of her is missing. How did she get so used to having him so quickly? She wonders about messaging him, but doesn't know what to say, what tone to strike. In the last 24 hours they'd gone from being so close to so distant so quickly that she has whiplash.

She finds the emptiness and silence of her apartment oppressive. It's not too late, so she messages Rachel and invites her over.

She'd told Rachel that she was spending the weekend with her parents, and she is in two minds about whether to tell her the truth now. Harvey is Rachel's boss as well, and if Rachel tells Mike, he might talk to Harvey and it could start to feel like high school. But she could really use an outside perspective. Her need to talk things through wins out, and she decides to trust her friend and confide in her.

"So how was Cortland?" asks Rachel, snuggling down on the sofa with a glass of wine.

"Um, Cortland was kind of… Martha's Vineyardy," replies Donna, screwing up her face. "I was never going to Cortland."

"Oh? But I thought you said…?"

Donna takes a deep breath. "I went away with Harvey."

"Donna! Oh my God, you're with Harvey! How long...?"

"It isn't… we're not. It's a long story."

"It's clearly not a too-much-to-drink one-night-stand scenario either. Then what?

She tells Rachel the full story as factually and objectively as she can.

"He loves you."

"He didn't say that."

"Donna, he showed you! In every way. And you love him."

Donna doesn't say anything.

"You do."

"I do," she admits, to herself as much as to Rachel.

"I bet he asks you out on a date this week. Or you could ask him."

"I don't think so. It was like his shutters had gone back down when he left today."

"You guys can't just go back to how things were before."

"I don't know Rach. We have gone back before. It wasn't easy, but we did. And he is adamant that he can't handle a relationship."

"Wait, what? You've gone back before?"

Donna had forgotten that she had never admitted the other time to Rachel, so she briefly explains that too.

"OK, but this time has to be different. He's older now, and he actually said he wanted more."

"Not specifically with me."

"But he clearly meant with you! And anyway, it sounds like you didn't tell that you meant him."

"No. But whatever he did or didn't mean, I know him. I don't think he'll risk what we have for… for what we could be."

"This is a man who does nothing but take risks."

"This is different. He has issues."

"All the handsome ones do," Rachel smiles sadly. "What are you going to do?"

Donna stares into her wine glass. "I have literally no idea."

Rachel can't stay late - she has law school and a brutal work schedule. Donna assures her she will be fine, and as soon as she is gone she runs a deep warm bath, with dimmed lights and her favourite bubble bath, in an attempt to relax before bed. It doesn't work: she is barely aware of her surroundings as her mind runs at top speed through the different ways she could handle this.

She imagines what might happen if she just never went back to work, cut him off, and everyone and everything that reminds her of him, and had a fresh start?

Or what if she marches over there right now and tells him once and for all how much she wants and needs him, how much she loves him that he can do this, and if either of them is to be happy, he must.

Her mind runs feverishly through all the ways these drastic options might play out, from the realistic to the ridiculous, the disastrous to the happily ever after.

Decisive action holds an appeal tonight. She is sick to death of the ambiguous gestures and words left unsaid. Blowing everything up would leave him nothing left to defend, and might open up the possibility of actual progress.

She gets out of the shower, and into pyjamas, but she's a little chilly. She had borrowed one of Harvey's sweaters, and she spots it lying on top of her open suitcase.

She is sorely tempted to put it on, to feel him close. Or should she throw it right in the trash?

She lingers for a moment, then rams it to the back of her closet.

When it comes down to it, she won't do anything radical. She wants to defend what they have as much as he does. To guarantee that he stays in her life, she will simply have to put this weekend to one side and go back to normal, just like they originally agreed. Like it or not. However much it hurts.