Hey Everyone!

I know, you haven't heard from me since Christmas, but I've been trying to figure out how I should end the story!

***So, here's your official warning: We are coming to the very last chapters of The Art of Philophobia!

So sad! Depression ensures! But I promise you that it will be an ending that will leave you with a satisfied feeling. So don't fret! What you see isn't as it was meant to be! Just enjoy the ride while it last. Just letting you know that this chapter is short, but IMPORTANT. Or just a plot twist, whatever you would like to call it... Shmeh.

As always, enjoy!

P.S. Suits don't belong to me!

"Karly, would you... No, sweetheart, listen to me, I know it's been two weeks, but... Okay, I know, but... Karly, stop, breathe... No, that would be a bad idea... No, that would also be a bad idea..."

Max paced back and forth in her office, a hand running over her face in a tired haste. The sun was about to set, and the office was clearing. Her eyes couldn't stand to stay open anymore as she walked around her desk, leaning her head back against the comfortable desk chair. Karly sounded worried. The blonde woman had every right to be worried; Oliver Klades had suddenly disappeared on Christmas day, and his daughter couldn't think of anyone to turn to than Maxine Harris and Harvey Specter. They were the dream team; the couple that could do anything, which included hunting down her father. They weren't detectives... they were better. They were lawyers, people who study other people for a living. Although, it would have been easy to find Oliver if he would leave a paper trail.

"I'll let you know what I find... Okay, goodbye Karly."

She placed her phone on the desk, resting her tired eyes onto her propped up hands. It was as if the life had been sucked out of her indefinitely. Her life had become hectic: her work load had begun to pile up, Karly had leaned on her to find her father, and Harvey wouldn't tell Max that he loved her. Max thought that he would say it, but unfortunately, it was something Max wouldn't be expecting anytime soon. After all, Harvey was emotionally behind in everything. Ahead of the working curve, but the love curve? Max knew better than that. Seven months and the man still wouldn't say that he loved her. Max could wait, but there is a limit to every woman, and Max's patience was wearing thin. Very thin.

A knock interrupted her train of thought. Her eyes opened to see the redheaded secretary hold up a file.

"Georgian case," Ezra said with a smile, "Mike dropped it off for you."

The woman smiled. She could always rely on her best friend to surprise her.

"Tell him thanks if you see him," she said as he placed it in a filing cabinet.

The redhead turned, heading for the door, when he noticed Maxine.

"He'll say it."

Max's eyebrow rose.

"He'll say it when he feels it," Ezra continued as he stood by the door, "It's a guy thing. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. We just need to feel it at the right time. Give him time."

Max shook her head, "Hopefully, it'll be soon."

The redhead smiled, "It will be. I can tell. Don't forget that Harvey likes to plan things, even though he is impulsive. But he never regrets a decision when he makes it, you should know that."

The brunette smiled, "Well, aren't you intuitive?"

He shrugged, "I get that from Donna."

He opened the door, shouting from behind him, "Give him time. He'll do something to prove he loves you before he says it."

Max sarcastically nodded, "Yeah, uh huh. You keep thinking that, Ezra."

Her phone vibrated almost instantly, causing to grab her phone.

"Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear," she mumbled, placing the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"I've decided that I'm getting rid of the death trap."

Max's eyes widened, "Touch the Vespa Harvey, and you won't see your Tesla for the rest of your life."

"The damn scooter is worse than the Tesla. Just get a car, Max."

"I said to leave the scooter alone."

"And I said that I'm getting rid of it. End of discussion."

She slammed her papers on her desk, still clutching the phone to her ear, "Harvey Specter, for the love of God-"

He cut her off, "For the love of God what?"

She hung up with force, placing her phone on her desk. She stood up, striding out of her office as fast as she possibly could in a tight pencil skirt, walking through the office and past all the cubicles. As she was arriving to his office, she gave Donna an exasperated look. Donna returned it with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as she continued typing on her computer. She pushed the door open, letting it swing open. The man in the chair looked up with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Do you honestly have fun pissing me off?"

Harvey's smile grew wider, "Possibly."

"Do. Not. Touch. The Vespa."

"And if I do?"

"I'll make sure your bed is nice and cold."

He rolled his eyes, "So making sure you don't die is a bad thing?"

"I don't care about the scooter," she said walking towards him, "But getting rid of something that I worked extremely hard for is a bad thing," Max said as she stood in front of his desk, her hands on her hips.

Harvey looked up at her, "You don't think I know that?"

Her eyes narrowed at his direction.

"How much did you sell it for?"

"Twice the amount," he said smirking, "You didn't think I'd let someone get away with your spoils now did you?"

"You're a rat bastard, you know?" Max said, walking over to his record collection, looking at the different artwork on each album.

"Right back at you," he said, signing the last document before sliding it back in the folder. His eyes left the desk and roamed up to Max. She was wearing a dark pencil skirt and a silky electric blue blouse. Her curly hair was let down, with her left bangs pinned to the side. Her eyes were focused, examining every picture on each album. He leaned back in his chair and just looked at her. How could she be so beautiful without even trying? How could she be that unintentionally gorgeous? It was impossible. Yet there she stood, her lower lip slightly between her teeth, studying the collection until her eyebrows rose, grabbing a record off the shelf. It made Harvey smile; of course, only his girl would pick 60's jazz. No pop, no rock, and certainly not anything from this generation. She placed the black disc onto the player, and hummed along with the song. The Girl From Ipanema, Harvey registered quickly. Her back was to him, but he could hear her singing along to the Portuguese lyrics. She picked up a baseball, clutching it in her hand. He's dated girls before, and he seemed to get tired of them at some point. But Max... Everyday he saw her, it caused him to long for her even more. She was so perfect... So why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he tell her that he loved her? She knew that he loved her, so he should just say it. But when he thought he should tell her, he thought of something better. It hit him almost instantly, and he wondered why he didn't ask her earlier.

"Marry me."

He heard the ball bounce off the table.

"What?" She said turning around. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly open.

He got up out of his chair, moving around his desk.

"I said, marry me."

Max looked at the man in front of her. Had Harvey gone mad? This was the best closer in Manhattan; the one who was afraid of falling in love. Yet he stood in front of her, asking for her to marry him.

Marry him.

It freaked her out.

"Harvey," she said walking away from him, towards the middle of the office, "you... I... but- we-"

"Just say yes," he said.

"But... we've only been dating for seven months."

"Almost eight," Harvey reasoned, walking closer, "my parents married after two months."

"We barely know each other," she said, crossing her arms.

"You were born a ginger, Max," Harvey said, standing right in front of her, "Even Mike doesn't know that."

"So? I could tell him right now."

"But you won't," he told her indefinitely.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you love me."

She bit her lip.

"What about me?"

Harvey's breath halted.

"You haven't told me you loved me," she whispered.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked solemnly at her.

"I do," his whispered, looking at her with soft eyes.

"So tell me," she pleaded as she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, "Tell me you love me."

He looked into her hazels, trying to find the will to say it. His mouth opened, hoping that the words would find their way out. But no noise came out. Max exhaled in sadness and anger, her eyes watering, a sad smile on her face. She sniffled as her hands let go of the slightly wrinkled jacket. She turned away from him, ready to leave the office when she felt her wrist being held. She stopped, her eyes closing before turning to face him. She opened her eyes to a pleading Harvey.

"Max," he whispered.

She shook her head, "Harvey, I love you. I love you so much. I love you to the point where I just want to take you away with me and move to a cottage in France and sit on our porch and drink expensive wine while our kids wear Faroese jumpers as they run in the yard with the dog. I want you and I love you."

Max took his hand in both her own, "But I'm sick of waiting Harvey. It's three little words. They're so small, and I know they mean a lot, but I know that you love me. I know it. So please, it's not that hard. Just... tell me, Harvey."

She smiled sadly at him.

"I love you, Harvey, but I'm tired of waiting."

She pulled away, but Harvey grasped onto her again.

"No," he said harshly, "You can't leave."

"Then say it," she pleaded, "Please."

He looked at her, his eyes filling with his own tears as Max let hers fall. His chest felt heavy as he tried sucking in air. God, it wasn't that hard! It was three words for Christ's sake! He'd said them to her before! Be a man, Harvey, he told himself, just do it! She's awake now. Just tell her! She's everything you've ever wanted. She knows you love her! So just say it! It's not that hard! Just do it!

But as he stood there, he knew he couldn't say it.

"I can't," he whispered.

She nodded, as she bit her lip, causing more tears to fall.

"Max, don't go," he begged. Harvey Specter had never begged for anything in his life, but he would have pleaded with Max for anything.

"Please, don't go."

She leaned in, kissing him. She inhaled his scent, the lovely, musky, manly scent she loved so greatly. His lips felt the same, perfect, as they molded onto hers. She could feel Harvey pouring everything into the kiss, grasping her face, physically holding her in her place. He didn't want her to leave. She was too perfect. He was too perfect. She was everything he wanted. He was everything she wanted. Max loved him with everything she had in her body, and Harvey loved her equally.

But he knew Max wanted him to say it. Max always wanted a definite answer, and Harvey wasn't ready to give it to her.

Not yet.

She pulled away, and Harvey could feel that she didn't want to leave.

"Stay," he whispered sadly, "Max, stay with me. Please."

She lightly punched him, letting more tears flow.

"You know what to do to make me stay, Harvey."

He looked deep into her eyes, knowing that it was killing her as much as it was killing him. Harvey finally let his eyes look out into the office, noticing that it was surprisingly empty. He nodded, not only clearing his nose, but his mind as well, as he grasped Max by the hand. With their unspoken language, he pulled her to her office, where she let go of his hand for a moment as she gathered her things. She pulled her scarf on as Harvey held her jacket open for her. She laughed softly, shoving her arms through the holes. She turned to face Harvey as she buttoned up her jacket, only to have him remove her hands so he could button it up. She looked into his eyes, with him staring directly at her, his eyes never leaving hers as he buttoned up her jacket. When he finished, he took her hand, slowly walking to the elevators. They didn't speak a word. He just held onto her hand as she grasped tightly onto his. Suddenly, the elevators were too close. Harvey unwillingly pressed the elevator button. The elevator took longer than it should, possibly to do with the fact that fate did not want to separate. That they were meant to be together.

She stared at him lovingly as he mirrored her exactly. How was it that two powerful people could be so vulnerable together? Or was it that they were strong enough to not be together, yet still be together?

The elevator dinged. It sounded like an execution bell in the gloomy state it rang in. The metal doors slid open, and Max got in, not letting go of Harvey's hand. As Max stood in the elevator, Harvey stood outside of the elevator, both of them still holding hands. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers once more. Harvey knew it wasn't a goodbye kiss. It was a goodbye for now one.

"I'll be here," she whispered against his lips.

He looked at her with knowing eyes.

"When you... are ready," she said, desperately holding her tears.

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear with his free hand, "I wish I could be, Max."

She chuckled, "You're Harvey Specter: the best closer in all of Manhattan. You'll close this deal. I know it."

He smirked at her.

"You can count on that, babe."

She smiled, the threat of new tears rising as she pressed the button to the main floor.

Babe. He had to call her babe.

His hand still clasped in hers, he pulled away, allowing the elevator doors to close. Just as the doors were about to reach their hands, Harvey, against his will, let go of her delicate hands, the elevator doors parting the connection he had with his love. The elevator indicated the lift was going down, and Harvey placed a closed fist on the cold steel.

He vowed from that second to make things right. Max deserved that.

Hate me later. Review for now.

xoxo N.