She sees his reflection in the mirror as he moves behind her, his hand pressing at the small of her back. They both have early meetings on opposite sides of town. It's their first official day of being apart, of adjusting to their new normal, and he hasn't said anything since they were heading home from that dumb basketball game a few days ago.

Neither of them have gotten dressed yet. His reflection shows that he only has his boxers on, hair still wet, not yet dressed for the day. She hasn't much progressed in putting on clothes yet either. She has been applying her makeup and fixing her hair before having him zip her dress up.

She feels his hand smooth up her back and round her shoulder. She puts her makeup down on the counter, practically done applying it anyway, and lets her eyes close as his fingers brush over her cheekbone. She should stop him, warm him that he's going to mess up her makeup, but she can't.

She turns to face him, leaning forward to place her lips on his. She pulls back quickly, her back hitting the counter. He follows her movement, kissing her harder, pinning her against the counter. Once she realizes she can't breathe, she pushes her hands against his chest and puts some space between them.

"Wait," she mutters, "We can't get carried away."

He pouts. She shakes her head at him. His hands press harder against the small of her back as he pulls her as close to him as possible.

"I don't get to see you all day," he says.

"That's not fair," she immediately replies, "You knew I had to meet with people about our wedding today."

"I know," he hums, "But I'm going to miss getting to kiss you any time I want."

She lifts her hands to the back of his neck and kisses him again. She can't deny him when he's really laying the being sweet on thick. She feels tears gather in her eyes and one manages to slip over the brim of her eye to slide down her cheek. She doesn't know why she's so upset about not working with him for one day when she's going to spend the rest of her life with him.

"Hey," he mutters softly, "No, don't cry. I'm going to come home to you and tell you about everything that happened today. It'll be just like you were there."

"You better," she says. He pulls her into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her. She feels a bit reassured. He's always reassuring her these days.

She meets with two wedding planners before noon. One woman rambled on for two hours about her vision of the wedding for the great Harvey Specter like she wasn't the bride. She isn't even sure that she had been asked any question about what she wanted her wedding to be like. The second woman wasn't much different. She keeps telling Harvey in jest that his wedding is a big deal, but that's almost all that either of those wedding planners had focused on.

She checks her phone to see that it's right around lunch time. She decides to head to a bistro not too far from the firm. She orders a sandwich and a salad to go and browses her phone while she waits.

Her fiancé hasn't called or texted her since during her first appointment. Her family has been a bit overbearing since her engagement party. They don't typically talk or interact every day but she has received a text or phone call from both of her sisters and her mother for the last 3 days. Jonathan is the only one she usually speaks with frequently. They are constantly asking her questions about the wedding.

She gets the food and makes it out of the bistro, heading down the street. The firm is only a few blocks away so she decides that it would just be faster to walk. She gets to the firm building and nods at the security guard. She makes it to the elevator and hits the button. She absently taps the heel of her shoe against the ground until the elevator dings, signaling its arrival.

She hits the button for the 50th floor, clutching her purse in one hand and the brown bag with food in it in the other. She makes her way through the office, following that familiar path to his office. She spots Juliet at her cubicle and offers her a small wave. She approaches the young woman. She leans against the cubicle.

"Good afternoon," she greets the woman, "How are things here on your first official day?"

The young woman takes a look around and leans towards her. She says, "He's been incredibly difficult today."

"We both knew it was a possibility," she replies. She gives the brunette a sympathetic look. She feels sorry for her because she's still getting used to him. They've only had two weeks to prepare her and Harvey has always been difficult in the workplace without her. She offers the woman a smile. She says, "I'll calm him down a bit. Maybe the rest of the day will go smoothly."

She taps on the edge of the cubicle and turns on her heel to head into his office. She wonders how she made it this far without him noticing her presence. She swings the hand with the bag in it toward him and sets the bag down on his desk. He jumps in his skin, ready to give her a piece of his mind until he seems to comprehend who it is.

She smirks. She says, "Brought you lunch, my love."

"Hey," he says slowly, "How did you sneak in?"

"Guess you were just hard at work so you didn't notice," she says.

She leaves her purse in the chair he has opposite of his desk. She makes her way around his desk. She lifts her arms as she approaches him, prepared to wrap her arms around his neck. He stands up to receive her. She feels him slide his hands around her waist.

"What are you doing here?" He asks. She places a soft kiss against his jaw just below his ear. He pulls back to look at her.

She says, "I had a free few minutes before I had to meet with the next one. So I brought us lunch. Plus, I knew you'd want to see me."

He smiles as he releases her from his grasp. She turns away from him and reaches for the brown bag containing their food. She reaches for his hand then and leads him over to the couch. She sets the bag down on the coffee table and kicks off her heels. She sits in the corner of the couch, gesturing for him to sit in the middle. She waits for him to sit before she reaches for the bag. She pulls his sandwich out and hands it over to him. She proceeds to reach into the bag for her salad.

"How were your meetings?" He asks, opening his sandwich.

"Eh," she hums. She opens the container with her salad and grabs the fork. She stabs a leaf. She says, "They were very concerned about what your wedding would look like."

"I don't really care about the wedding," he replies. He looks mildly confused. She knows he doesn't mean anything by it but she wants him to care about the wedding. He seems to notice because he quickly says, "I care about what my bride wants."

She is extremely comforted by his words. She still wants him to care, but she knows his preferences. Whatever he would want, she already knows. And he trusts her inexplicably.

"I just want to be married to you," she says. She takes a bite of her salad, quickly realizing that she isn't that hungry. She starts pushing the remainder of her salad around the container. She shakes her head and adds, "But I've already let the news of you going off the market get too big."

"Me?" He finally says, sandwich pinched in his hands, "I wouldn't have been much of a catch for anyone else. I mean, you've been my emergency contact for the last decade."

She quirks an eyebrow up on her forehead and bites the inside of her cheek for just a moment. She lets go of her fork and closes the container as much as it will go. She leans forward and sets it on the table before leaning back. She turns, lifting her legs to spread across his lap.

"I don't think anyone else sees it that way," she replies. He drops the sandwich onto the paper wrap and wipes his hands off with the napkin. He turns, angling his body towards hers, hands flattening against her legs. She sighs. She says, "I just have to face it. This is Harvey Specter's wedding and I'm just a prop."

"Don't be like that," he says, "You're Donna Paulsen. You've never accepted anything you didn't want to. It's one of the things I love about you."

"You love that I don't take your shit like everyone else," she counters.

"That, but also that you know exactly what you want and you go for it. You can tell these people that I get the lucky honor of becoming your husband, not the other way around," he says. His fingers press into her calf but continue to slide up to the back of her thigh. Her gaze narrows warningly. He grins and says, "You're the most amazing person I've ever met. And if you can win me over, you can win over anyone."

"Oh please," she hums, "You were easy to impress."

"Then anyone else should be a cakewalk," he replies.

Her talk with her future husband is helpful, to say the least. She goes into the next meeting with a potential wedding planner prepared to not take any bullshit. This is her wedding. It's her only wedding and she wants it to be perfect.

As much as she pretends she didn't, she had dreams about how her perfect wedding would go. She had envisioned the perfect centerpiece, the perfect dress, the color schemes and, at times, she had even pictures the correct groom. She's been to a lot of weddings so she knows what she doesn't want. She never had a particular venue in mind, or a particular guest list. She maybe never even had a particular color scheme.

Donna goes into the wedding planner's office dead set on figuring out as many gory details about this woman's vision. She doesn't even know where to start. Here she is, acting like planning this wedding is their privilege when she's beginning to realize she needs a guide. She was practically Rachel's wedding planner, but at least Rachel had some idea of what she wanted.

She strolls into Kate Edmonds' office with poise and grace. She clutches her tan purse in her left hand, curls her red locks with her right hand. Her blue dress splashes against the white walls as the wedding planner's office becomes clearer to her.

"Miss Paulsen," she greets, standing to her feet, "I'm Kate Edmonds. Pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well," she murmurs.

"Please, have a seat," Kate says, gesturing to an empty chair on the other side of the desk. The chair is a cream color, pulled straight from a living room. It's extremely comfortable. She looks at the woman, ready for her pitch. Kate says, "Thank you for meeting with me today. I know you must have a full schedule. Have you picked a date yet?"

She's mildly taken aback by the question because she hasn't been asked that yet. She nods, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. She says, "March tenth. We don't want to wait any longer than we have to."

"How long have you been engaged?" Kate asks.

"Six months," she replies.

"How well do you know your husband to be?"

Donna laughs. She can't help the laughter peeling out of her at the question. She doesn't think she's been asked that specific question about Harvey for years. She collects herself quickly and smiles an apology.

She says, "I know him better than he knows himself."

"Your fiancé is..." she trails off like she's trying to recall but just slips over it, "Is he going to be joining us?"

"Oh," she says, eyebrows furrowing, "He doesn't care about the wedding too much."

She finds herself pouting immediately at the admission. She hadn't initially known that she had wanted him to care all that much. In fact, she's spent months telling him not to worry about the wedding and she would handle everything. She's sure that if she asked him to care then he would. She just felt like her dealing with this wedding stuff a few days a week would help them prepare for a day when she didn't work for him. She felt that, perhaps, training a secretary would benefit them so she could explore something else if she wanted.

She doesn't really know what she wants for herself anymore outside of marrying him.

"He doesn't have anything particular he cares about? Like music? His suit?"

She stills in her movements like she's having an out of body experience. He's very particular about both of those things. But she knows him well enough that she can get it right without him being active in the decisions.

"He trusts me," she replies.

"What do you want your wedding to be like then?" Kate says, looking at her.

She stares at the woman then. She truthfully doesn't know how to answer the question. It's almost like all of the weddings she's been to she never stopped to think about what she wanted her wedding to be like. It seems like it was all just an idea she'd given up on.

She goes to the bookstore and buys all of the bridal books and magazines she can find. She might even be there for a few hours browsing. She takes home a rather large sack of reading material and ends up spreading them all out on the coffee table. She looks through the pages for hours but they begin to blur together.

He comes home earlier than she's expecting. The moment he walks in the door she realizes that the pages are only blurring together because her eyes are actually flooded with tears. She blinks and the tears begin to fall.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, rushing to her side, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know the first thing about weddings," she replies. Her throat strains. A lump forms in her throat and she can barely speak at all. She feels the cushion of the couch shift beneath his weight and she's pulled into his vortex.

"You just planned Mike and Rachel's wedding," he replies, "What do you mean you don't know the first thing about weddings?"

She feels his hand slide across her shoulders and come to a stop on her upper arm. She shakes her head quickly and tears fly from her cheeks. She swallows the lump, but she can still feel the strain in her throat. She says, "Rachel knew what she wanted, but I don't have a clue."

He stretches his arm out and pushes the mess around the coffee table just a little bit more. He takes one of the magazines in his hand and pulls it to his lap. He examines the cover with a slightly confused look. She watches him as he flips through the pages, voice seemingly caught in his throat.

He finally says, "What did the wedding planner say?"

"She asked me what you cared about," she replies, voice finally beginning to clear, "Then she asked me what I wanted."

"What did you imagine when you were a kid?" He asks.

She laughs suddenly, like it's the dumbest question. She says, "I thought I was going to marry Jordan Knight and we were going to dance to Duran Duran. I clearly had no taste."

"You don't get to pick the music," he replies decidedly. He tosses the magazine back onto the stack of magazines scattered across the table, but it slides all the way to the other side only to fall to the floor. He says, "I know that you can do this. I have faith in you."

"I might need your help," she says.

"You don't," he says, "But if it's too much, we can just elope."

"No," she says forcefully, "No, we can't do that."

"Okay," he says with a nod, "Then you can do this and it's going to be perfect."