ANGLES - CHAPTER 6
When Monday morning finally came around; she'd dressed in the best thing she had in her wardrobe. If she was going to be the single executive assistant to a married Boss, then she at least wanted to look fabulous despite it. When she got to work early she felt silly waiting for him, a coffee and a smile ready like old times. She thought better of it, and hid the coffee under her desk.
When she spied him walking down the long corridor and her eyes met his, she felt her stomach lurch against her ribs and cursed the idea of wearing the tightest thing she owned.
His skin was sun kissed; his hair brighter which highlighted his darkened gaze all the more.
"Morning… how was the honeymoon? Get any?" She said, arching a brow.
Suddenly playing the games didn't feel as fun as they used to.
"Where's my coffee?" He asked immediately.
"I wasn't sure if your Wife was going to get you that from now on? I am aware that there are several duties that I won't be in charge of anymore. Your brother's birthday present. Xmas. Excusing women from your life via the phone or in person."
"And my coffee?" He continued to ask.
She reached down to her desk, pulling out the coffee, which he took with a shake of the head. She followed him into his office; still unsatisfied with the lack of answers to her important questions. If their professional relationship was going to survive then he would have to help.
"So: Honeymoon. I don't want details, but I do want bullet points."
"Tuscany was…nice." He said, looking through his messages.
"Nice? Socks are nice." She groaned, impatience setting in. "What was the hotel like?"
"Five star."
"Okay maybe a little more detail."
"It was…hot."
"You spent the whole week in bed didn't you?"
"Donna." He said her name like he had a week ago.
The flight in her was ten-fold and she didn't hide it.
"You're impossible! Fine, don't tell me anything, but don't expect me to ask again." She said, suddenly sounded harsh and glided out of his office.
He wasn't making any of it easy.
She found the rest of the day pretty much the same as usual; but she didn't press anymore. Instead she kept herself firmly ensconced in work.
"Donna?" She suddenly heard come out of the intercom.
It was nearly time for her to go, and it wasn't unusual of him to call her in before day's end. She sauntered in, standing in front of him.
"Yes, Harvey?" She asked, waiting patiently.
He sat back from his work; looking at her for a second, before seeming unsure of something.
"Do you wanna sit down?" He asked.
"Okay… I'm not getting fired am I?" She asked; suddenly weary of his sudden sense of formalilty.
"Of course not!" He said, voice erupting into a familiar impatience.
"Good. So, what?"
"I…I'm not married."
Her brain froze out but there was no 'control-alt-delete' option.
"Donna?" He asked, unsure of her expression.
"Was it me or did I see you get married?" She asked.
"It's being annulled." He said.
"Oh. Right." She said, her brain completely vacant of thought.
"I uh; didn't want to tell you this morning. It would have only ruined the day. But I… wanted you to know."
He sat, watching her.
"Good." She finally said.
"Good?"
"To know. Good to know; you know, for coffee….reasons. At least that's not changed." She immediately sat up.
"No, I'd still like my coffee. Are you okay?" He asked her, noticing the change.
"Fine. Uh, I have to go. I have a date. Um, but… I am sorry."
"About what?"
"The wedding. Are you okay?" She asked; her features softening.
"I'm good." He nodded; almost too sure about his answer.
"Okay...We'll talk. If you need to. But, right now I have to go...now." She said, walking out.
She couldn't have grabbed her coat and bag quick enough if she'd tried.
And he didn't follow her.
'One by one
It's your time
Lead them both back to one
The sun has come
May your light lead them both back to one
Indivisible sum
Here's the book now the saga's begun
He wonders if she is the one
(You're the one)
You're the one.' ~ '57821' By Janelle Monae
Her brain hadn't stopped forming half-questions in her mind. She really did have a date, with Greg again, but she didn't feel much like going to it now. She'd decided to dress up as result; a beautiful deep crimson Valentino; with clean lines and a hem that cut all the way to the floor. She'd fastened her hair into a bun and decided on one long gold necklace with a small cylinder hanging down the back of it.
Greg had promised to take her to a new 'up market' restaurant that he'd booked in advance, so she wouldn't look out of place and at least she could feel fabulous on the outside. On the inside she was being confronted with ideas that were way past her own reality. They'd decided on late dinner as she'd finished a little later than eight.
"This place is really lovely Greg. I can see why you pre-booked." She said, taking in the orange impasto artwork on the walls, the pink crystal chandeliers made out of plates of glass hanging in the grand ceiling.
"Yeah; I'm glad to bring someone who I can have a proper conversation about it with rather than deviate around small talk with a stranger."
"Tell me about it. It's rough out there." She agreed.
Greg was nice; since the wedding, he'd been her 'go-to' date. They knew eachother quite well; it was nice to spend time with a man without the drama. Greg was practically drama-less.
"You wanna take a look at the wine list?" He asked.
"Oh no, you go ahead. I trust you," She said, smiling.
Her smile was caught off guard by her phone buzzing. "Sorry; one sec…" She said, clicking through her phone.
It was Harvey.
One message, reading:
Ditch the date.
Come to 149 West 45th Street and ask at reception.
She was overwhelmed with her situation; sat opposite an attractive man who was willing to take her out; and a Boss who wanted her to brave the still cold May weather for a cab across town.
She text back:
No Harvey.
"You okay?" Greg asked; a concerned at the look on her face.
"Fine. Sorry. Wine list?"
Her phone beeped again in record time from a man who swore he didn't know how to text.
His name lit up her screen in a way that caused her blood to boil.
Please Donna.
I need you.
Her face paled when she read the words. It was his 'get out of jail free card'.
The Bastard. He promised he'd never use it again…
"Are you sure you're okay?" Greg asked again, clearly feeling left out of the loop.
She exhaled, fighting the urge to swear at her phone and composed herself; the man opposite her watching every second tick by until she finally looked up.
"Greg; something's happened, with work. My Boss is giving me a hard time. I have to go."
"Really? Didn't he just get back from his honeymoon?"
Trust him to now grow a thinking bone...
"And how quickly things fall apart when he's not here… Look, I have to help, I'm sorry. Raincheck? My treat next time,"
"Sure." He said, shaking his head.
As she left, grabbing her coat from the coat check and wrapping it around her she figured this was the worst idea of her life; possibly even worse than going to his hotel.
When she stepped out of the cab she knew instantly what he had been alluding to. The Lyceum was her favourite Theatre in New York; the oldest surviving Broadway venue.
She entered and went straight to the box office – not a reception, she noted – and a helpful young usher led her down the stairs in the direction of the stalls.
What had he planned?
The Usher left her at the doorway without a word. The Theatre was dark, save for the small candelabras warming the edges of the huge hall with their orange glow; creating domes of light to scatter around her.
She loved the theatre. It was where her heart led her always. How ironic a thought…
She slowly walked up the small pair of steps towards the stage and turned when she arrived in the middle. The stage was lit up.
Her breath caught in her chest as she took in the audience; rows and rows of chairs rising into the heavens; the balcony, curved and ornate with gold filigree and an ostentatious command of the room. She'd brought Harvey here once to see 'Olleana' By David Mamet. How odd, that he'd remembered, but never mentioned the fact, considering he had hated the play, and had dragged her to a sports bar straight after.
"You need to wear red more often."
The voice startled her as she turned to see Harvey walking in from the wings. She shook her head and turned back to looking around the dark empty auditorium.
"How did you...?" She all but whispered.
"Called in a favour." He said.
She turned her head to face his as he joined her at the front of the stage. "But you don't have any clients in the theatre?" She toyed with him. It wasn't unimaginable that he could orchestrate this but she was curious.
"It was a big favour."
"So, why are we standing in the theatre in the almost dark?" She asked, noticing the tuxedo he had on.
"So I could give you this," He replied, pulling a single, long stemmed Rose out from behind him.
It was Orange. Almost flame coloured with these little flecks of yellow.
"I thought Red for a Rose was a little… passé. Plus it matches your hair. And you know how much I love your hair."
"Passé?" She couldn't help but roll her eyes, her mouth threatening a smile as she took the flower.
"Plus, it's named after you," He clarified, a smile tugging at his lips.
"You named a flower 'Donna'?" She looked incredulously; eyes disbelieving but caught in the depth of his own.
"No, there's already a flower named Donna. It's called 'Donna Paulsen'. I thought that name should exist somewhere…"
"Well, I have that name so-"
Her words were halted.
He was kneeling.
On one knee,
In her favourite theatre,
With a Cartier box in his hand. (She'd know that damn red box anywhere…)
It felt like an alternate version of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'
And she couldn't lose all the questions in her head.
"Donna Paulsen. You are relentless, sharp, unyielding, stubborn and very headstrong for an assistant."
"Executive assistant," She corrected.
"Shut up. 'Executive' assistant. But you are also kind, giving, considerate… and you have a great rack."
"Wait, why are there more cons than there are pros?"
"The rack is…two things,"
"You're a pig." She rolled her eyes.
"Will you let me finish?!" He pretended to yell, but knew deep down she only ever got mouthy when she was nervous.
"Go on." They shared a look, until she relented.
"I trust you on and with just about anything, but when you said I needed to get married, instead, I should have just…dragged you to Paris."
"Yeah, that wasn't our finest moment." She said, finally ready to admit.
"No…it wasn't. I told Alex that I'd screwed up, and that I needed out."
"How did she take it?" She asked; guilt forming it's little questions.
"She threw a lot of things at my head. But after I explained further she understood… Look. That's not what I came here to say."
"Okay. What did you come here to say?"
"Donna. I'd already fallen for you when you told me you could perhaps fall for me…during the 'other time'. I loved you when you tried to tell me that you loved me like a brother…which I know is definitely a lie." He said, his eyebrows challenged her.
"We all love our brothers in different ways, Harvey."
He glared at her and she laughed.
"My actual brother loves you. My Mother, somehow loves you. My father adored you. I am in love with you. So, Donna Paulsen... will you marry me?"
"Is there a ring in there?" She asked, excitement winning over.
"Could you just answer the damn question?" He asked, shoulders slumping.
"Just one question," She started.
"You aren't allowed to ask the questions." He said, half irritable and half amused at the woman in front of him.
"Can we just invite family and friends… and Louis?"
"If you say yes, then…yes… Well?"
She pulled him to standing; watching the space between his eyebrows deepening as they furrowed. She closed the distance between them, her hands finding the crease in his tie before her eyes found his. Her hand ghosted to his cheek and she placed her lips close to his ear and placed the rose holding hand around his back.
She'd be a devil to the end. He would expect no less...
"Yes, Harvey. I'll marry you." She whispered; her lips sought out by his in a rush, engulfing the end part of the sentence in a kiss. The kiss was long, slow and indulgent; she'd almost forgotten he was holding a little red box until she felt it dig lightly in her back.
"Can I have a look?" She asked, eyes lighting up.
"No, it's a prop." He said, the sarcasm dripping.
Her breath caught as she opened the little box; enclosed in the red velvet was a platinum set rock of an Asscher-cut diamond; square, faceted and elegant. This was one of a kind. She browsed on the Cartier website every month even without a groom. This wasn't on there once.
He took the ring out of her hands, placing it on her finger with an amused look.
It fit. She expected no less.
"This one is on loan until our appointment at Cartier tomorrow morning."
"And if I like this one…?" She asked; her words careful.
"Then it's yours."
Her stomach lurched as she tried to hold back the odd swoon of nerves.
The ring was beautiful. Perfect, even.
"Maybe we'll just have a look…anyway." She whispered.
"Okay," He replied; his dark eyes sparking in the stage lights.
"You know, just in case I see something…else." She said; her gaze still firmly focused on the ring.
"Okay." He nodded.
"Did you choose this?" She asked him, so intimately that it sounded as if she was waiting for the answer to a lost secret.
"Yes. But Rachel confirmed it for me. You forget I've seen every engagement ring you've ever been given. And we both know how many. Only once did you ever get something vaguely approaching this. And you nearly married the guy..."
"Oh yeah… Paulo…from the West Village…"
"From Portugal!"
"Ah. Yes." She said. She wasn't even really concentrating anymore. The ring was taking up two hundred percent of her time in this moment.
"So… are you hungry? Seeing as I inturrupted dinner and you didn't have lunch..." He asked.
"Maybe…?" She looked questioningly at him.
"I booked a table. And that dress needs be shown off. Ray is waiting." He gestured, holding out a hand for her.
"Let's not make him wait." She said, taking his outstretched hand in hers.
There was a distinct possibility that Harvey would be the better half of their marriage. But he'd had practise, so…
Love, love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Fearless on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter
Fearless on my breath ~ 'Teardrop' – Massive Attack