She can't believe he's here. Of all the places he could've been tonight—he's here. In the same building. In the same elevator. At the same time.
The odds of this happening seem absurd, like some kind of cosmic joke. Did she conjure this guy out of mid-air because she couldn't stop thinking about him?
She feels trapped, not just physically but emotionally—caught between the remnants of one encounter and the overwhelming presence of him.
And she can't seem to find the right words to tell him she's not hurt, at least not in the way he thinks. That the abrasions on her skin were caused by another man's strong fingers clamping down on her neck, while his cock filled her cunt.
But Harvey knows. He knows she's had sex just moments before they ran into each other.
She can tell by the way his expression hardens when he studies her intently, as if trying to peel back her skin and see inside her head. How his Adam's apple bobs up and down in a large swallow.
It's in the subtle tension in his shoulders, the sharp way he inhales, as if he's trying to control his reaction. The clench of his jaw that is unmistakable, the muscle ticking there like he's holding back something fierce.
She shouldn't feel ashamed for what she did. He has no goddamn right to make her feel like this. Like… like he owns her. But she can't help the feeling.
Shame floods her, hot and humiliating, crawling up her neck as she prays for the ground to swallow her whole.
If only she could vanish into thin air. If only he didn't have that look—the one that says he knows too much, more than she ever wanted him to.
She can practically feel the tension in the air as his rough voice finally breaks through the silence. "Did you have a good time?"
It is a barely audible whisper, revealing a depth of emotion that she can't ignore. There is a hurt, a longing beneath the surface, that she can almost physically see.
"Harvey…" Her voice cracks on his name and she closes her eyes against the emotions she sees in his face.
Somewhere on this journey, she lost the ability to keep her wits about her, and now she's struggling to control her own emotions.
God, he makes her feel far too much for it not to be utterly catastrophic to her soul once they have to go their separate ways.
Suddenly, his warm fingers brush her cheek, stealing her breath in an instant. She gasps, the sound sharp and unbidden, as though the simple contact has jolted something deep inside her.
Her body reacts before her mind can catch up, flinching slightly at the unexpected gesture, yet the warmth of Harvey's fingers lingers, soothing her frayed nerves.
The contradiction is dizzying—his touch both startles and calms her, leaving her caught between wanting to pull away and leaning into the comfort he offers.
As her pulse is churning, her own blood feels like a hostage in her veins. Donna cracks her eyes open, searching his. His eyes are the part that tug at her the most, so very dark and tempting.
Harvey's gaze rakes over her with unmasked appreciation, a slow, deliberate movement that makes her feel exposed. There's no hiding from him, no pretending he doesn't see her—really see her.
The heat in his stare is undeniable, and she swears she hears a low, rough growl rumble from deep within him, primal and instinctive, as if holding himself back is becoming a battle he's no longer willing to fight.
Holding her cheeks in his palms, he sweeps his thumbs beneath the hollow of her eyes, slow and tender, tracing the delicate skin as if committing every inch of her to memory.
Then his fingers trail down to the curve of her chin, brushing against it lightly before they move to the soft fullness of her lips, lingering there like he's on the verge of something he can't take back.
Her body's attraction is instinctual, and no amount of silent inner lectures can stop her from holding in a tiny little breath every time he so much as glimpses at her. It's maddening—this pull, this electric connection that has nothing to do with logic or sense.
But the way he gets under her skin isn't just physical. That's what really terrifies her. She's had great sex before, earlier tonight even, and yet here she stands, a bundle of need and longing, craving his touch like nothing that came before even mattered.
When she meets his gaze, he looks at her like he isn't in chains. Like he isn't still mending a broken heart from the wife who left him, her absence, a shadow that hovers over every new connection he tries to make.
His eyes hold none of the fear or uncertainty she's seen before. There's no hesitation, no doubt, just raw want. But Donna fears it is still there, just beneath the surface—the risk they both know too well.
The risk of letting himself fall again, of opening up to her when he's still picking up the pieces from before. The risk of having to explain to his little girl why another person he let in has disappeared. Because if this doesn't work out, if they don't work out, it's not just his heart on the line.
But none of that is in his eyes now. Right now, all that exists is this moment, and the way he's looking at her, like she's the most interesting, the most enchanting, the most beautiful woman in the world.
Harvey draws a deep breath, staring at her lips inches from his, and Donna can feel the battle playing out in his mind. Then, slowly, he looks back into her eyes, and something shifts between them.
It's like a silent question, one that doesn't need words, and what else can she do except let him know, in the way she holds his gaze, that she wants him to act on those feelings?
Wordlessly, he drops his head, his warm breath tickling her ear as his lips trace a soft path down the side of her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
As his kisses descend further, his hands follow, pushing the sleeve of her dress down, and when his lips brush against the exposed curve of her shoulder, Donna can't help but let out a soft, audible gasp.
The guilt in the pit of her stomach spreads like wildfire until she thinks she might just burn up. But instead of backing away from him and resisting temptation, her fingers bracket his wrists and squeeze as if searching for an anchor.
With a groan of pent-up desire, Harvey sucks gently on the sensitive skin of her neck, an action so delicate yet passionate it wets the juncture at Donna's thighs and sends her swaying from its pleasure.
His hand slides back across her face, his fingers tucking beneath her cheek. His thumb runs across her top lip, stopping at the edge until she lets go of her bottom and parts her lips.
She moans deep in her throat, a sound that reverberates through both of them, and almost blindly clutches his head to her neck, completely submerged in desire for the man touching her.
As Harvey traces the contours of her jaw with his lips, teasingly nipping at the corner of her mouth, withholding the taste she longs for so bitterly, a whisper of a cry tears from her throat.
She lets out her breath slowly, almost dizzy, feeling his erection press against her inner thigh, so hard and hot, she wishes it would be buried between her legs.
"Harvey," Donna sighs out his name, her voice laced with need. The heady aroma and the proximity of his body almost makes her cum there and then.
His gaze searches hers, and she meets it dead on. Sure of herself. Certain of what she wants. She wants him to kiss her. To fuck her right here, erasing every trace of Brett left on her body, and make her his.
"Donna," he rasps, and dear God, her name has never sounded so raw and exotic before. Has never been whispered against her skin with such a seductive murmur.
But just as she inches closer, ready to claim the kiss, he pulls away. It's sudden, like a sharp gust of wind that snuffs out a flickering flame, and it breaks the fragile cocoon of intimacy they're floating in, like a jagged rock falling upon precious crystal.
No, she wants to cry out. Please, don't.
Her heart stumbles over itself, tripping in its rhythm as she watches him retreat. Her lips part, but the words catch in her throat, thick with disbelief and something dangerously close to desperation.
Because she knows what will happen next, and it's like a physical pain in her chest, squeezing her lungs until she's choking on the ache of what's coming—Harvey Specter is about to break her damn heart.
"I can't," he says, his voice so rough it sounds like it's scraping against his throat, as if each word is a physical struggle.
His gaze flickers downward, and in that instant, he catches the way her bottom lip trembles, the betrayal and vulnerability she's trying so hard to suppress.
Her body, which only moments ago was moving on instinct toward him, now feels paralyzed. Her lips are still tingling from the anticipation of the kiss that never came, and now her heart is in freefall, plummeting into a void.
But then, the pain surges forward like a wave, and she feels every muscle in her body stiffening, instinctively pulling back from him, as if touching him now would only burn her more.
"I'm sorry," Harvey chokes out.
She can see the internal war going on inside him, the heat of it—he's fighting himself, fighting the desire that's still coursing through him. It's in the way his hands flex at his sides, the tension in his body screaming at him to reach for her, to pull her back in.
"Me too," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, brittle and broken in a way she hates.
She never wanted to need another man like this, to let anyone have the power to hurt her. But now it's too late, and she can't fight the tears from forming in her eyes.
Fortunately, the ding of the elevator as it lands on the lobby floor and its doors opening signals her escape. Donna strides out, not looking back. She can't. She doesn't trust herself not to crumble if she sees the regret in his eyes, the same regret that's slicing her open.
She swipes an angry hand at her cheeks as she realizes they have seriously fractured their relationship. Because she'll never forget what happened tonight. It feels foolish to even hope that she will ever be able to act normally around him again.
The next day, she wakes up with a pounding headache. It's one of those rare mornings where she can't seem to find the will to get out of bed.
The idea of doing her job today seems impossible. Her thoughts spiral as she stares at the ceiling. She can't pretend in front of the kids. They know her too well. They can sense it when something's off.
Letting the water of her daily shower run over her, the residue of last night's rejection seems to wash away, and when Donna finally gets out, the world feels a little less suffocating, a little less heavy. She breathes in deeply, telling herself she can get through this.
The smell of her morning coffee offers a strange sort of comfort, grounding her in the familiarity of her routine. By the time she's sipping the warm liquid, she feels almost normal again, like she can piece herself together and get through the day.
When Benjamin, Henry, and Ava arrive, that feeling only grows stronger. She didn't realize how much she needed this—needed them—to feel okay again.
They're her babies, her joy, and just being with them, watching them play and hearing their giggles, lifts the cloud hanging over her. For a little while, it feels like everything will be alright. She laughs, genuinely, for the first time since last night. And it feels good.
Then the doorbell rings, and she knows there's only one child still missing from her daycare... His.
The thought of seeing Harvey makes her stomach twist painfully, a knot of tension that tightens with each step. She's been dreading this moment since the second she opened her eyes. And yet, a part of her has been impatiently waiting for it, too.
After she went home last night, she didn't know how she was supposed to face him today, or if she even wanted to. But lying in bed all night, replaying every second of their encounter, she realized she had to talk to him.
At some point, they were going to have to face what happened between them. Because what happened—or rather didn't happen—could never change how she feels about his daughter. And Harvey has to know that.
He has to know that Eden will always be her priority, no matter what. That she will do anything for his little girl, even if it means setting aside whatever it is she feels for him, even if it means moving on from something she's not even sure she wants to let go of.
But when she opens the door, it's not Harvey greeting her, it's—
"Mike, what are you doing here?" She can't hide her surprise when she sees her friend instead of the man she expected, her jaw dropping slightly.
But she manages to recover quickly from the initial shock. Crosses her arms as she leans against the doorframe, trying to mask the mix of irritation and disappointment swirling inside her.
"Harvey has an early court date, so he asked me to drop Eden off," Mike explains, shifting the toddler's bag on his shoulder.
"Does he now?" Donna scoffs. After what happened—or almost happened—yesterday, she half-expected him to use work as an excuse to avoid her today. And of course, he did. Harvey Specter, you're such a coward!
Mike tilts his head, confused. "Is there a problem?"
Donna quickly schools her features into something more neutral, even though her pulse is racing. "No, Mike, I'm just… tired."
She looks down at Eden with a genuine smile, softening for the child's sake. "Come on in, sweetheart," she says. "I'm so happy to see you."
Once the toddler's out of sight, Donna straightens and turns back to Mike, slipping back into her carefully controlled demeanor. "Will you pick her up later?"
"No," Mike replies, handing her the bag with a shrug, clearly unaware of the undercurrents between his friends. "Harvey said he might be late, but he's definitely coming."
Donna's jaw clenches, though she masks it with a tight-lipped smile. Of course, Harvey wouldn't have the decency to tell her directly. "Would've loved to know this beforehand, but—"
"You knew," Mike cuts her off, his brow furrowed. "Harvey said he told you yesterday."
Donna pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger to help her focus. All this talk about Harvey, thinking about Harvey, is making her a little dizzy.
"Right," she mutters, sighing in frustration, both at Harvey and herself, as a flash of memory hits her. "He asked me if it would be okay if she stayed until dinner, because he'll be in court all day."
"And?" Mike prompts, watching her with mild concern. "Is it… okay?"
"Yeah, of course." Donna waves it off, though there's an edge of weariness in her voice. "Of course it is. I just…" She trails off, biting her lip, not wanting to admit how much Harvey's absence is bothering her.
"And you're one hundred percent positive he's gonna show up later?" she asks, her voice dipping into uncertainty.
Mike chuckles lightly, clearly missing the subtext. "He's a man of his word, Donna. If he said he's gonna be here, he'll be here."
"Hm," Donna hums, not entirely convinced. "Thanks, Mike," she then says, flashing him a genuine smile.
"Happy to help," he replies, before he turns to leave.
•••
"Hey, what do you say we go out and have some pasta for dinner?" Donna asks, after staring into the pantry for a solid three minutes, her fingers drumming lightly against the countertop.
She sighs softly. Nothing looks appetizing—not the half-empty box of crackers, not the canned soup, and certainly not the jar of pickles sitting forlornly on the top shelf.
Eden sits at the kitchen table, her gaze wandering to the window where the late afternoon light filters through the curtains.
Donna watches her face, searching for some hint of enthusiasm or interest. But Eden just blinks slowly, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere, until she finally nods, the motion almost imperceptible.
Donna smiles, though her chest tightens a little at the familiar quietness. "So, pasta is fine," she muses, more to herself than to Eden. "Alright then," she adds briskly, "Let me just grab my coat and my purse and then we can go."
When they arrive at Del Posto, they are greeted by live classical music on the piano. The rich, mouth-watering smell of Italian cooking wafts through the air, and Donna takes a deep breath, savoring the aroma. The hostess recognizes her immediately and offers a warm smile.
"Good evening, Donna. Your usual table?"
Donna nods, returning the smile. "That would be perfect, thank you."
The restaurant is as busy as always, but, thankfully, Donna never has to worry about making a reservation. It's one of the perks of knowing the chef, whose daughter used to attend her daycare back when she ran it from her Manhattan apartment.
She sits across from Eden, observing the way the toddler's eyes scan the room, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the corner of the cloth napkin, before her attention drifts to the pianist.
Donna quickly places their order, asking for a simple plate of pasta with tomato sauce for Eden, and for herself, the hazelnut gnocchi with black truffle and butter. The waiter nods and disappears to relay the order to the kitchen.
While they wait, Donna steals glances at Eden every now and then, wondering if she should try to start a conversation.
It's always tricky navigating these quiet moments with Harvey's daughter. She doesn't want to push too hard, but the silence between them sometimes feels like a chasm she can't cross.
"Do you like music?"
Eden looks up at Donna, and after a moment, she nods, her small chin dipping once.
Little does Donna know Eden wants to tell her about her bedroom mural, the jazz orchestra consisting entirely of dinosaurs that adorns her wall, and which she loves so much…
Donna's smile widens slightly. "You know, I used to love going to the opera. Or seeing a musical." She can see the way the little girl's eyes light up, how they're suddenly focused entirely on her, like she's hanging on every word.
"I love theater," she adds, her smile growing as she speaks. "There's something magical about it. The music, the lights, the way it all comes together."
She pauses, watching Eden closely, noticing the way the little girl seems to still be listening with rapt attention.
"But lately, I have little time to go. And I realized how much I truly miss it." Donna hesitates for a second, then asks, "Has your daddy ever taken you to a play?"
Eden's head shakes slowly from side to side, her curls bouncing slightly with the motion.
That answer doesn't surprise Donna. Harvey is always so busy, wrapped up in his work and the complexities of life at the firm.
She knows he's a father who loves his daughter deeply, but maybe there are things he hasn't had the chance to share with her yet. And with Eden's mother being completely out of the picture…
Donna lowers her voice as she asks, "Would you wanna go with me someday?"
Eden's eyes widen a little, as if the question catches her off guard. Donna waits, her heart almost skipping a beat. The thought of sharing something she loves with Eden fills her with warmth.
"I'm sure we can find something you really like," Donna says, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she's afraid to push too hard but hoping this could be a way to bond.
Eden halts for a moment, her tiny hand still gripping the napkin. Donna can see the wheels turning in the little girl's mind, her hesitation, her thoughtfulness. But then, after what feels like an eternity, Eden breathes a single word. "Yes."
It's soft, almost imperceptible, but Donna hears it clearly. Her heart swells with love, excitement, and she can't help the wide, beaming smile that breaks across her face. She might've just found something special, something that could bring them closer.
Donna reaches across the table, gently brushing a lock of hair from Eden's forehead. "I'd love that," she says, her smile seeping into her tone. "We'll find the perfect show, just for you."
The silence that follows their exchange feels different now, lighter, almost comforting. There's no longer an awkwardness between them. Instead, there's a sense of closeness that wasn't there before. Donna feels it deeply—this connection they're building, slow but steady.
Finally, the waiter arrives with their food, placing the plates in front of them, and Donna watches as Eden stares down at her plain pasta. She can tell Eden is hesitant, her fingers hovering over the cutlery.
Donna leans forward gently, offering an encouraging smile. "You can start whenever you're ready, honey."
Eden looks at her, then back at the plate, her little fingers tightening around the fork but still not moving.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Donna furrows her brow, her concern growing. "Come on, talk to me…" She extends her arm and rests her palm gently on the back of Eden's hand. "What's wrong?"
Eden shifts in her seat, her eyes darting away, then back up to Donna. After a moment, she lets out a soft sigh, almost too quiet to hear. "You… you have to… tell me something."
Donna tilts her head in confusion, her thumb now rubbing soothing circles on Eden's small hand. "What do you mean, baby?"
Eden glances down, her voice barely above a whisper. "Daddy always tells me a story."
Donna's heart softens at the mention of Harvey. She blinks, processing the words. "What kind of story?"
"From his day," Eden says, her words slow, as if she's pulling them together carefully.
Donna stares at the three-year-old, her confusion deepening until suddenly, it clicks into place. "Oh… you mean I have to tell you a story about my day before we eat?"
Eden's eyes brighten, and she nods coyly, her lips curving into the slightest of smiles.
Donna's heart melts. The image of Harvey, sitting with Eden, telling her stories from his day, makes her feel something deeper than she expected.
It's not just that Harvey is a good father, although that's undeniable. It's how naturally he bonds with his daughter, how intentional he is. It makes her feel that familiar pang of longing, as if there's a part of her life that's missing, a part she wants so desperately to fill.
She pushes that thought aside and focuses on Eden, who is looking at her expectantly. Donna grins, feeling lighter, and gives the little girl's hand a squeeze.
"Well, you've been here for almost all of it, haven't you, sweetie?" she laughs softly, running a hand through Eden's hair. "But if you wanna know what the most lovely thing is that happened to me today…"
She pauses, her smile growing so wide it cuts into her cheeks, eyes sparkling with warmth. "It's hearing your voice," she admits. "Hearing you talk so much."
Eden looks surprised, her eyes wide, as if she hadn't expected that answer. Donna watches as her expression softens, her lips parting slightly, maybe even considering speaking again.
"This moment right here… sitting here with you… this is the highlight of my day," Donna murmurs, her voice suddenly thick with emotion.
There's a moment's pause, and just when Donna thinks her words have marked the end of their conversation, at least for now, Eden surprises her by speaking up again. "Do you like my daddy?"
The question catches Donna so off guard that she snorts loudly, nearly choking on the sip of wine she's just taken, and it takes her a moment to recover her poise.
She sets the glass down and dabs at her lips with the napkin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she feels the little girl's eyes fixed on her, waiting for an answer. She clears her throat, shifting in her seat as she tries to compose herself.
Where did that even come from? Has Harvey said something? Or is it just the natural curiosity of a three-year-old?
Donna takes a breath, still blotting her lips, trying to buy herself a few seconds to gather her thoughts. But Eden's gaze is unwavering, expectant.
"I love your daddy," she says, and the words slip out before she even realizes what she's said.
When she does, she feels a fresh wave of heat rise to her cheeks, and quickly averts her gaze, her heart thudding in her chest. Love? Did she really just say that to Harvey's daughter?
"I mean… I didn't mean it like that, I—" she stammers, realizing Eden is still watching her with that same curious intensity, her little face showing no sign of judgment, just pure interest. "Your daddy… He's…"
Donna's flustered blush deepens, and she fights the urge to bury her face in her hands. This is actually worse than the time she peeled that princess sticker off Harvey's forehead and the kids asked her if he's her boyfriend.
And Eden sits there just waiting patiently, as if the entire world has narrowed down to this moment.
Donna exhales softly, deciding to go with the truth—at least the parts she can safely admit. "What's not to like about your daddy, Eden?"
Maybe the fact that he almost kissed me, she thinks, the memory of that near-kiss flashing through her mind, the tension from that moment returning to her chest for just a second. But she shakes it off, focusing on what she can say without giving too much away.
"He's kind and funny," Donna continues, her voice gentler now, more reflective. "And he's got a beautiful smile."
And that part is undeniably true.
God, that smile. She feels a flutter in her chest as she thinks about it—how that smile lights up his entire face, making him look younger, softer. Those dimples that appear on both sides of his cheeks, the way his eyes crinkle with amusement.
There's something about the combination of his tall, handsome frame and his wide, boyish grin that always has the power to disarm her, no matter how composed she thinks she is.
Donna blinks, snapping herself back to the present before she loses herself in the thought of him completely. Eden is still watching, but there's something playful in her expression now, as if she's picked up on Donna's slight nervousness.
Donna shakes her head at herself, grinning slightly at Harvey's little girl as she leans in closer. "But you know," she adds, "I like you more."
The teasing words seem to work their magic. Eden's face brightens as she breaks into a giggle. The sound instantly lifts the weight off Donna's chest, and she finds herself laughing along with her, the tension that has gripped her body finally easing.
•••
They eat in silence, as if Eden has a strict amount of words to use for conversation and now her storage is empty, so she doesn't speak anymore.
Donna doesn't mind. She finds something calming in the way Eden focuses so intently on her food, her small hands carefully guiding her fork, her feet swinging lightly under the table.
When dinner is over, Donna wipes Eden's hands and mouth gently with a napkin. She notices the ease they've fallen into, one that has developed naturally over time, and she marvels at how easily Eden has fit into her life. It's almost like she's always been there.
"I'm sorry," a soft voice interrupts, hesitant but kind, "but I've been watching you two all night, and I couldn't help but notice how sweet you are with your daughter."
Donna freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She tilts her head up to look at the woman standing beside their table, confusion clouding her expression.
"What?" she murmurs, her voice trembling, unsure if she heard correctly.
The woman smiles warmly, unaware of the emotional weight behind her words. "You have a beautiful little girl."
Donna's heart drops to her stomach, and she feels the sting of tears before she can even process the stranger's words. "Oh, she's not…" she stammers, struggling to find her voice.
She swallows back the sadness that is building in her chest, and with it, the uneasy realization that for just a moment, she has let herself imagine it—being a mother, having a child to care for and love in the way she's always dreamed.
"I'm sorry," the woman says quickly, her eyes widening as she notices the shift in Donna's demeanor. "I didn't mean to overstep."
Donna waves her hand, trying to brush it off despite the growing heaviness in her chest. "No, it's fine," she replies, though her voice wobbles slightly.
She forces a small chuckle, trying to mask the vulnerability threatening to spill over. "Thank you," she says, offering a weak smile. "But Eden's not mine, she's…" She trails off, taking a breath to compose herself. "I'm just her babysitter."
The words feel like they don't belong to her, the phrase stinging in a way Donna hasn't anticipated. Just her babysitter.
"Well, either way," the lady says with a gentle smile, "you two make a great team."
Donna smiles in return, nodding politely. "Thanks."
As the woman walks away, Donna looks back at Eden, the little girl so innocent and unaware of the emotional layers unfolding around her.
Donna opens her mouth, wanting to say something, but before she can speak, Eden turns her big eyes up at her.
"She thinks you're my mommy," she says matter-of-factly. It's more a statement than a question.
Donna stares at Eden, unsure how to respond. The silence stretches for a moment as she searches for the right thing to say. Then, with a deep sigh that seems to carry her own unspoken grief, she breathes, "Yeah."
"Mm," the little girl hums, as she slides off the chair. "But my mommy is gone," she whispers, as if afraid that saying it too loud would make it hurt more. "I only have Daddy."
The words sink deep into Donna's chest. Her expression softens instantly, a wave of compassion rushing through her.
"Eden…" she begins, her voice tender and low. "Honey, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, crouching down so she's eye level with the child. "I don't want you to be sad."
Eden's small hand suddenly grasps Donna's, the warmth of her touch catching Donna by surprise. The unexpected contact makes her gasp, a flood of emotions swirling inside her. There's a vulnerability in the way Eden clings to her, a silent plea for comfort.
"Can we go?" Eden's voice is soft but insistent as she tugs lightly at Donna's arm. "Please."
Donna's heart swells with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course. Yes," she says, as she squeezes Eden's hand in reassurance. "Let's go."
Back at her house, she helps Eden settle on the couch with a warm blanket. Eden snuggles in, tucking her legs beneath her and clutching the blanket to her chest. Donna pulls it up to her chin, smoothing it down gently.
"Your daddy must be here soon," she mutters, checking the time on her phone. "Do you wanna watch a movie until he arrives?"
Eden's earlier shyness fades as she nods.
"So what's your favorite?" Donna asks, raising her brows in mock seriousness. "I'm sure you love Frozen. Every kid loves Frozen."
Eden giggles softly, and Donna feels a tug of affection for the little girl that's grown stronger over these last few hours than she ever expected.
She picks Frozen from the list on the screen, and as the movie begins, Donna sits beside Eden on the couch, keeping a comfortable distance, not wanting to overwhelm her.
A few minutes in, though, Donna notices Eden's gaze flicker, her little body shifting, as if testing a boundary. She glances at Donna from the corner of her eye, her small hand inching out from beneath the blanket.
Donna stays still, letting Eden make the first move, feeling a surge of happiness as the little girl finally scoots closer, her cheek resting softly against Donna's arm.
Donna's breath hitches just slightly, and she gently adjusts, wrapping an arm around Eden's small frame, pulling her in just a little tighter. Eden doesn't resist. In fact, she seems to relax further, her head now resting fully on Donna's chest.
Donna presses her cheek lightly against the top of Eden's head, her fingers tracing soft, comforting circles on the girl's back.
This small body curled up against hers feels so natural. Different from when she cuddles the other kids from her daycare. She has no logical explanation for why she feels that way, but it hits her with so much force that her eyes become teary.
Resting her head back against the couch, she finds herself sinking into the moment, forgetting about the ticking clock or the fact that Harvey is still due to arrive.
Eventually, the gentle rhythm of Eden's breathing slows, her body becoming heavier in Donna's arms. Without realizing it, Donna's own eyelids begin to droop.
Before she knows it, she too succumbs to the peaceful quiet, her arms still protectively around Harvey's daughter as the movie continues to play in the background.
She doesn't know how much time has passed when she hears her name, like an echo in a dream, soft and familiar. There's a gentle nudge on her shoulder, and slowly she surfaces from her light sleep.
"Donna," he whispers. "Hey."
Her eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light. And there he is. Harvey, standing by the couch, one hand stuffed into his pants pocket while the other hovers uncertainly at his side.
Their eyes meet, and for a split second, everything she felt last night rushes back. But then Donna's gaze drops to Eden, still curled against her, and the chaos in her mind quiets.
"Hey," she murmurs, voice rough with sleep as she looks back up at him, her eyes scanning his face. The tenderness in his expression nearly slays her. "What time is it?"
"It's almost nine," he replies softly. "I'm sorry. I meant to be here sooner, but—"
"It's okay, Harvey." She smiles, a small, sleepy one, as she carefully disentangles herself from Eden's loose grip. "Don't worry about it."
She moves slowly, not wanting to wake the child. Her hand brushes against Eden's hair as she tucks her back into the blanket, letting the little girl remain undisturbed.
Once she's free, Donna stretches out a little, her body stiff from the awkward position. Then she turns her attention fully back to Harvey.
He's standing closer now, in his signature Tom Ford suit, but she notices the subtle details—how his tie is a little looser than usual, and the faint shadow of scruff on his cheeks, like he's been too preoccupied to shave.
He looks good, annoyingly good, and for a second, she feels a wave of desire course through her—she wants to reach up, smooth her hands over his stubbled jaw, pull him down and kiss him until neither of them remember why they're supposed to be holding back.
Donna clears her throat, shaking the thought away, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture.
"Do you…" He pauses, and she watches as his hand drifts up to rub the back of his neck. "Can we talk?" he finally asks, his voice a bit wobbly.
She blinks, the confusion clear in her expression. "You mean now?"
He nods, and the intensity in his gaze makes her heartbeat quicken, but she keeps her face composed, or at least she hopes she does.
"I'm not sure this is the right—"
"Please, Donna, it's important to me," he says, his tone softer, like he's afraid of scaring her away.
Swallowing, she presses a soft kiss to Eden's head before standing, instinctively brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt. Harvey watches her closely, and she feels the warmth of his eyes on her.
"Okay," she murmurs, tilting her head toward the kitchen.
Harvey follows closely behind as Donna leads the way, the wooden floor creaking under their weight. She can feel his presence at her back, the closeness of it, and it takes everything in her not to glance over her shoulder.
When they reach the kitchen, she stops, turning to face him. "How did you—?"
"Your roommate let me in," he interrupts, stepping into the space beside her. His voice is low, almost apologetic, as if he's already aware of how much he's intruding. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he's not sure where to put them.
Donna's eyes drop to the floor for a beat before looking up at him again. She's trying to gather her thoughts, but it's hard when he's this close, his scent lingering in the air, and his eyes focused on her in a way that makes her insides melt.
She doesn't understand why this particular man—a man who is brooding and difficult and way too much of a challenge—makes her feel so many things in so many ways. She doesn't understand why he makes her want things she's decided not to want, ever again.
"So, listen," Harvey begins, his hand absently running along the edge of the kitchen counter, his thumb tracing a small groove. His eyes flicker to hers, but before he can continue, Donna interrupts.
"If this is about last night…" She can't help it; the words rush out before she can stop them. She's been holding onto this tight knot of emotion all day, and now it's unraveling.
Harvey tries to get a word in, his mouth opening slightly, but Donna presses on. "Harvey, I get that it's hard to have your wife walk out on you when your child is just an infant… I really get it," she says, her voice breaking, just a little, and she hates how vulnerable it sounds.
"But that doesn't give you the right to treat me like…" Her breath hitches, and she halts mid-sentence, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Why would you do that, Harvey? Why would you get… so close… and then… If you're not…"
She drags a hand through her hair, fingers tugging through her red strands as if she can shake out the tangled emotions with the gesture. "It's not fair," she murmurs. "Especially because…"
For a moment, Donna can't even look at him. The hurt, the confusion, the yearning that she can't quite put into words—it's almost too much.
She takes a deep breath, exhaling hard. "No, you know what? Just forget it. It's fine," she then says. "Eden needs me, and I won't let anything or anyone jeopardize my relationship with her… Not even her own father."
Harvey's shoulders slump slightly, the tension leaving his posture as he releases a deep, weary sigh. "Can I please just say something?"
Donna tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down lightly. Then she finally nods, mentally preparing herself for the words she knows are coming, but not sure if she's ready to hear them.
"You're right. I shouldn't have done that," he admits. He takes a slow breath, his eyes never leaving hers, as though he's trying to gauge her reaction before he says the next part. "But I wanted to."
He lets those words linger in the space between them, heavy and raw, watching her closely for any sign of how she'll take them.
Donna can feel his confession like a second skin. One moment it's crawling over her like a skein being drawn by an invisible insect, the next it's hugging her body in a cloud of silk.
"And I know that was incredibly selfish," Harvey continues, his tone softening as he searches her face, "but I really am sorry, Donna."
"For leading me on?" Her voice has shifted too, softened, like she's offering him a way back from the edge of whatever this is between them. But she can't hide the hurt that slips through in her words.
"No," he breathes, the single word taking on all the more emphasis. "For hurting you."
His tongue darts out, swiping over his bottom lip like he's chasing her taste from last night.
And it takes Donna right back, to the heat of the elevator, his lips trailing over her neck, her collarbone, the way they hovered just at the corners of her mouth, so close it felt like they were already there.
Her skin tingles at the memory, but the ache beneath it isn't just from desire. It's from everything left unsaid.
"You wanted to?" she whispers, her voice almost tentative, as if she's afraid of the answer. "Why?"
She doesn't know if she really expects one, but she has to ask. She has to challenge him, to push past whatever boundary they've built because she's been replaying that moment over and over again, wondering what he's thinking, wondering why he pulled away.
Harvey's gaze flickers between her eyes and her mouth, and he swallows, the sound almost audible in the quiet kitchen. Then he takes a step closer until his chest is almost brushing against hers.
Donna's breath hitches, her pulse quickening as she looks up at him. And then he smiles—his smile is a little crooked, not the smile of a man dazzling a jury in court and disarming his opponents, but a soft, almost shy smile.
"'Cause you're…" His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for her, to touch her, but thinks the better of it. "Beautiful," he murmurs, the word almost reverent. "And funny. And smart. And you make me feel like…" His voice trails off into a sigh, barely audible, as though even he doesn't quite know how to finish the thought.
Donna feels the vulnerability radiating off of him, the rawness of it, and it makes her own lip quiver. She's never seen him like this—so unguarded, so open.
It's as if he's tangled in a web of emotions he doesn't know how to express, and his eyes, filled with something she can't quite place, plead with her. He looks like he's waiting for her to set him free, to offer him something that will ease the weight he's carrying.
"What, Harvey?" she asks softly, inviting him to share whatever's trapped inside of him. Maybe he isn't brooding and surly because he is miserable, she thinks. Maybe he is afraid, just like her.
He doesn't answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor as he swallows hard. And then, his voice cracks, so fragile she can barely recognize it. "She's dead," he croaks, his throat tight with the effort to get the words out. "My wife's dead."
Donna lets out a soft gasp. She sees his eyes glisten, the pain too raw for him to hide. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if by doing so he can hold it all back, but it's too late.
Before she can fully grasp the gravity of what he's just said, tears slip past his closed eyelids and run down his cheeks.
She feels the world shift around her as she watches him break, completely unguarded and exposed in a way she never thought possible.
All the tension, the confusion, the unspoken words between them dissolve into something much deeper—grief, vulnerability, and the undeniable need to comfort him.
Harvey draws in a deep breath, finally looking at her, and in that moment, it's like the last piece of her resolve crumbles. His eyes hold so much pain that it's impossible for her not to feel it, too.
Tears well up in Donna's eyes, and she doesn't even try to fight them. She knows she can't—not when the man in front of her is breaking in a way she's never seen before. Those visible signs of his soul's distress are too much to bear.
Before she can even think, her hands are moving on their own, reaching out to him. Her fingers feather gently across his cheeks, barely making contact at first, as though she's afraid he might shatter at the touch.
But then, as her palms cradle his face, she feels him shuddering in reaction, and it breaks her all over again.
She cups his broken—still so heartbreakingly handsome—face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears as they fall, catching them like fragile drops of glass.
Harvey's eyes flutter shut, and she sees his Adam's apple bob convulsively as he fights back a sob, his whole body trembling with the effort to stay composed.
But he's losing the battle, and Donna knows it. She can feel it in his shaky breath, the way his lips tremble beneath her touch. He's unraveling in front of her, and all she wants is to be the one to hold him together.
"It's okay," she whispers, though she knows nothing about this is okay. Her thumbs trace slow, comforting circles along his cheeks, catching each tear as it comes. "You don't have to hold it all in."
A soft sob escapes him, and Donna's heart aches as she pulls him closer, her forehead gently resting against his, offering him the quiet comfort of her presence.
She doesn't say anything more, because there are no words that can heal the wound he's just revealed, but she stays with him, letting him know he's not alone in his grief.