Louis roamed the streets, lost in this unknown part of town, lost in his thoughts.
One part of him still couldn't wrap his mind around what just happened, and the other, more analytical part of his brain shut down completely.
And there he was, on some corner of nowhere, waiting for something familiar to come into sight, and all he wanted was to go back.
Not to go back to Sheila, but to go way back.
To go back moments before he ruined everything.
If he would have known what he knew now, he never would have broken things off with her first of all.
And his poor attempt to repair the damage he's done, surely wouldn't work out.
How could he even expect her to leave her fiance for him?
She would never do that.
That's simply not the person she was.
She was righteous.
And strong willed.
And she was a goddess between the sheets.
And she was always correct.
She was perfect.
She was perfect for him.
How did he not see it back then?
And how the fuck did he end up in this part of town?
He lost her.
He lost Balthasar TO her.
And he lost himself in the process.
The cosmic joke couldn't get any funnier.
So before he would get mugged or raped or killed in this empty street, he decides to order another Uber car, hoping dearly it would arrive in time before all of these events would eventually unfold, maybe even combined in one single act, and with an uncertain chronological order.
Half the way through the Chunky Monkey container that was stored in her fridge, Donna finally stopped crying.
Ok, so that was it.
But she tried.
It was simply too late.
Harvey made up his mind, and he clearly didn't want to be with her.
Paula was right.
He never had feelings for her.
And she just didn't want to see it.
But now, in the aftermath of events, of her frantic efforts, once again she found herself alone and lonely, with a taste of banana ice cream and chocolate chunks in her mouth.
And a bottle of Chianti placed within her reach.
Just in case the Chunky Monkey wouldn't do its job.
Sure, she could have listened to his excuses, explanations and whatnot, but she sincerely had enough of those over the past few years.
She tried.
She lost.
It was time to move forward.
And to put on her pyjamas.
The soul shattering sound of the rigorously shut door and the broken expression in her eyes milliseconds before that, deprived Harvey of his well deserved sleep.
It has been a long day, and still, he couldn't rest for the life of him.
He knew what had to be done.
And he had not the slightest idea why he kept postponing it.
Unwrapping the sheets caught up between his legs, he rapidly gets up, throws over a woolen pullover and some jeans that have seen better times, grabs his keys and takes a few seconds to empty the finger of Macallan 25 he poured in his glass after he came home but didn't finish.
A quick check in the mirror confirmed that he looked exactly how he anticipated, which meant he looked like shit, but nevertheless he leaves his apartment.
Now was not the time to look flawless.
Now was the time to make amends.
Louis finally got home without being raped, mugged, or murdered, and this decent Uber driver who picked him up wasn't even as uncooperative as the last one.
Embedded in his couch, Louis was waiting for the delivery boy with his calzone, filled with loads of mushrooms, cheese and carbs, a medley of poison he so desperately craved he even neglected all of his knowledge about clean eating and forgot about his evening prunie.
But who gives a shit, right?
Not him apparently, due to the fact he didn't drink his prunie.
But hell, whatever.
Louis simply didn't have the strength to care about this anymore.
But his stamina still equipped him with enough rage to vociferate his grievances
out loud about the delay of his delivery as soon as the doorbell rang.
"Oh my god, there you finally are you moronic piece of a so called delivery boy, I mean, how hard can it be to deliver this calzone on time? Isn't this mentioned in your work title that you're supposed to deliver? I even bet it's already cold! You people, you are just unable to perform the slightest task!
And I'm not mentioning things like service, or attitude, and you never seem to take care of your personal hygiene also! Why the hell did they hire you? I mean you… "
Louis aggressively opens the door, being greeted with a calm and familiar female voice stating "Hello, Louis."
"Sheila! What… You… You are not the delivery boy!"
"No, Iˋm not the apparently past his schedule delivery boy you've been awaiting, Louis, but I still have something to deliver to you."
Sheila lifts the heavy transport box that Louis hasn't noticed before, and the retroreflectors of a pair of almond shaped eyes flicker up in the damped light of his floor.
"May I introduce you? This is Lucky, or as you wanted to call him, I think it was Balthasar?"
"Oh my god, Sheila, you can't… "
"I spoke to Mrs. Wilder after you left, and she told me the whole story. And Louis… Balthasar isn't the only thing I'll deliver."
She slowly puts down the box with Balthasar in it, and wraps her arms around Louis' neck.
"Sheila, what…"
"Shhh, Louis…"
"But your fiance…"
"I ended it right after our kiss, Louis. Because you, Louis Litt, are the love of my life. And if you will have me, and Balthasar, I will most certainly be pleasured…. "
"Oh my god, Sheila, just shut the fuck up and kiss me!"
The Chunky Monkey didn't help.
As a matter of fact Donna ordered another box along with a quattro formaggi pizza, but in the meanwhile, she ate the remains of her Thai delivery, washing it down with the Chianti, which was a sacrilege, because the full bodied, yet fruity and somehow velvety wine didn't cooperate well with her seafood menu.
Oh my god, she just completely lost it.
She was on the verge of calling Harvey.
Then Rachel.
And then she just poured herself another glass.
The hard truth hit her like a ten ton truck, but it still remained to be the truth even if it hurt like this ten ton truck was additionally filled with ten tons of acid.
By this point she knew, no one could possibly help her and the simplest way to smooth the sharp edges of the truth was the desperate attempt to polish them with an unhealthy amount of wine and shitloads of ice cream or otherwise it would cut her right through to the bone.
Harvey didn't have feelings for her.
He had feelings for Paula.
And Paula was right all along.
Donna was a distraction, an exotic fruit, but Harvey never wanted her.
He was like a boy wandering around in a garden, picking and taking only one single bite from the most exclusive looking fruits in his sight, throwing the rest away.
The doorbell interferes with the continuation of these dark and twisted thoughts, promising the welcoming smell of melted cheese and crusty dough instead.
Harvey maneuvers his Aston Martin into the nearest empty parking space, yet still a 5 minute walk to his destination.
The night unfolded its satin curtain in its full glory by now, the sky dipped entirely in the darkest shade of blue, by this hour even without the intermittence of red tail lights irradiating his way.
He was here before, and he knew he had to go back to set things right between them.
She didn't give him the chance to explain himself earlier on, and now he would just claim it and persist that she hears him out.
Before it would be too late.
Before things would be damaged beyond repair.
Before this whole tragedy would become a greek one.
His finger hesitated for a few seconds before he pressed the doorbell.
He wasn't entirely sure he was doing the right thing.
He didn't quite thought of the content of what to say exactly, but as she told him a million times, simply being honest always would be the right way to go.
The door swings open, revealing the fascinating sight of a rather disheveled, but still naturally beautiful woman, the cheeks rosy despite the total absence of makeup, and the lips luscious without any gloss, dressed in her pyjamas.
"Harvey! What… "
"We have to talk."
"Oh, now you want to talk? That's… "
"I wanted to talk to you before, but you didn't… "
"I didn't what? What else should I have done?"
"Just let me come in and then we talk. I really don't want to have this conversation in the hallway."
"Why not? My neighbours surely won't call the police."
"Please."
The begging intonation of his plea soothes her anger, and she opens the door a bit wider for him to enter.
"Ok, Harvey, come in."
"Thank you, Paula."