A/N: I've gotten so many comments on the last chapter and every single one of them made my fucking day! Keep 'em coming... Makes me giddy to hear your thoughts. Thank you all sooo much ❤️

Harvey runs his hand over his face, the rough stubble scratching against his palm as he leans back against the kitchen counter. The apartment is dark, save for the dim glow of the city lights filtering in through the windows.

After what happened with Donna, his mind's been a mess. He can still feel the ghost of her skin on his lips, the way her breath hitched when he kissed her neck, her shoulder, her jaw—how close he came to kissing her for real. And then, like a coward, he pulled away. Guilt twists in his gut even now, just thinking about it.

Eden's not there, and the silence feels too thick, too still. His phone sits on the counter beside him, Donna's contact still open from where he almost called her earlier. He wants to talk to her so badly. Apologize again for what he did, or rather didn't do. But he knows he can't. He needs to give her space.

Harvey's body flinches from the sound of his phone breaking through the quiet. He lets it ring a few times before he scoops it from the counter with a resigned sigh and picks up. The familiar voice is light and teasing, as always. "Hey, handsome. I just wanted to check in and see how my favorite brother-in-law is doing."

Harvey chuckles, turning to lean his hip against the counter. "I'm your only brother-in-law, Lexie," he says with a grin she can't see. "But seriously, do you have psychic abilities or something? Because I was just thinking this morning that we haven't talked in a while and—"

Lexie's voice sharpens just a touch, cutting through his rambling. "What's going on, Harvey?"

He hesitates, his hand tightening around the phone. "What?"

"Well, you said you wanted to call me, right? So that must mean there's something you have to get off your chest, because you never actually call." She pauses, waiting for him to say something, but when he doesn't, she softens. "Are you okay? How's my little dinosaur?"

The mention of Eden brings a small smile to Harvey's face. He moves from the counter to the sofa, sinking into it with a sigh. "She's okay," he says softly. "Really great, actually, considering this is all new to her. The city, the people, the apartment…"

"She never had much trouble adjusting," Lexie hums on the other end of the line, as if she's picturing Eden in her mind.

"I know," Harvey agrees, his gaze drifting to the framed photo on the bookshelf across the room—a photo of his infant daughter lying in her crib, snuggled up to her plush T. rex. "She wasn't the problem. I was."

Harvey can almost hear Lexie's concern crackling through the phone line. "I didn't say that, Harvey."

"But it's true, Lexie," he concedes, running a hand through his hair while looking at the photo. "I was so worried about changing our lives that I didn't even bother trying. I thought it would overwhelm her, you know, getting thrown into something unfamiliar. It scared me."

His head drops back against the sofa, and he closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Then he continues, "And I'm not saying it's easy for her these days, but she's... she's thriving. She's going to that daycare, and every time I pick her up, she's just so full of life and can't wait to tell me about the day she had with Donna."

Lexie notices how his voice catches on Donna's name, trailing off into a sigh, and her tone shifts with a knowing smile Harvey can practically hear. "Donna, huh?" Harvey bites his lip, suddenly feeling exposed. "Is that the woman running the daycare?"

He nods, even though she can't see it, and his heart does a strange flip in his chest. "Yeah, she runs it. She's... she's great with Eden."

"And with you?" Lexie's voice softens again, more serious now.

Harvey breathes out, memories flooding back of how Donna's body felt as it pressed against his. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "I thought... I thought I was ready to move on. But..."

"But you're not sure?" Lexie finishes for him.

"Yeah, I'm not sure." He lets out a long breath, his chest tight with the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He sits up slowly, elbows resting on his knees. He can't shake the image of Donna—the way her lips had parted slightly, her skin soft under his fingertips as he came so close to letting go, only to stop himself. "I mean, I want to, but…"

Lexie stays quiet for a moment. She knows him well enough to hear the battle in his voice, the war he's been fighting between his heart and his mind. "I know you still feel you aren't ready, Harvey, but don't listen to your head," she encourages him. "What does your heart tell you?"

He rubs his palm over his mouth, feeling the sting of tears he won't let fall. His heart? His heart hasn't had a say in anything for years now. Not since he lost Zoe. But deep down, beneath the layers of grief, guilt, and fear, he knows the truth. He just doesn't want to admit it out loud.

There's a long pause, and when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. "That I spent enough time being alone... mourning her." He leans back, his head resting against the top of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. His free hand falls to his chest, resting there as if to calm the ache that's been gnawing at him for years.

Lexie's voice is gentle, but firm, like she's always been with him. "You have loved my sister with every ounce of your soul, and you've spent these last three years holding on to that love, but I think now it's time for you to let someone else into your heart."

Harvey closes his eyes, a tear slipping out and tracing a slow path down his cheek. He doesn't wipe it away. Lexie's words pierce straight through him, hitting the part of him he's been trying so hard to protect.

"Allow yourself to be loved the way Zoe loved you," Lexie continues, her tone soft but insistent, as though she's trying to make him believe it. "The way your daughter loves you. Fully and unconditionally."

Harvey can hear the warmth in her voice, the gentle encouragement, and it makes something inside him loosen. His hand presses a little harder against his heart as he listens, trying to let her words sink in.

"And I promise you, it doesn't mean that you love Zoe any less. Or that you've forgotten her. It just means that... you're making space for more. For someone new. Someone who could be just as important to you, in a different way. You deserve that, Harvey."

He's silent, processing, his eyes still closed as he takes a shaky breath. His thoughts drift to Donna, to the way she always looks at him, like she sees right through his walls, his fears. Like she knows him in a way that scares him because it feels so real, so different from everything he's allowed himself to feel these past few years.

"I don't know if I'm ready to be that vulnerable again," he admits quietly.

"You're ready enough to want it, Harvey. That's all that matters. The rest will come."

He lets out a long, shaky breath. "I'm scared, Lexie."

"I know," she murmurs. "But you've already been through the hardest part. You survived the unimaginable, and you did it for Eden. This... this is just the next step. It's time to live for yourself now, too. Don't hang on to your grief. Don't let yourself be alone."

Sensing his hesitation, she sighs softly through the phone. "Hey, I'm not saying you should go and confess your love to Donna. Take all the time you need to figure out how you feel. Just… Just don't run away from this before you even give it a chance."

"I'm not running," he mumbles, but even as the words leave his mouth, he isn't sure they're true.

Running away—that's what he's been doing for years now. Hiding behind his grief, using Zoe's memory as a shield to keep anyone from getting too close.

Donna has slipped past those defenses without even trying, and that's what terrifies him the most. But… Love. The word feels too big, too soon, he thinks. But there's something there. He knows it.

Lexie doesn't push, but her pause is long. "I hope not," she says gently. "Because if you're waiting for the perfect moment where everything feels easy and you don't have doubts... you'll be waiting forever. So, stop overthinking and start feeling."

Harvey lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He knows she's right. The fear won't just vanish, but maybe that's not the point. Maybe it's about doing it anyway, about stepping into the unknown, even if he's scared.

"Thank you, Lexie," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome, darling. And for what it's worth... My sister would want you to be happy."

"I know." Harvey sighs, his voice soft, almost relieved. He wipes a stray tear from his cheek, feeling just a little lighter. "And Eden, she... she told me she wants me to be happy, too."

There's a beat of silence before Lexie's voice comes back, tinged with surprise. "She did? Like, she actually told you she wants you to be happy?"

Harvey can't help but smile, the memory bringing a warm spot to his heart. "She asked me if I liked Donna," he admits, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Apparently, there was some talk about us at the daycare…"

"Wait, you mean those toddlers gossiped about you and Donna?" Lexie cracks up, the sound of her laughter bright and infectious. "Oh, this is hilarious! I have to tell my husband."

Harvey chuckles along with her as he leans back against the sofa. "Anyway," he says, shaking his head with a grin, "she tells me the other kids said if I'm nice to Miss Donna, I could be her boyfriend. So I asked Eden if that's what she wanted… if that's who she wants me to be, and she said, 'I want you to be happy.'"

Lexie's laughter fades, replaced by a soft sigh. "She takes after her mother," she murmurs, half in earnest, half in jest. "And I'm glad she told you, because I think you needed to hear that. Your child sees how much you struggle, Harvey, even if you try to hide it from her."

"I guess I didn't realize how much I've been holding back around her. She's only three, but... she knows more than I give her credit for."

"Kids are like that," Lexie says gently. "They see right through us, don't they? She wants you to be happy because she loves you, Harvey. And she knows you'd do anything to make her happy, too."

He nods, a lump forming in his throat at the thought. "I just... I've spent so long keeping this part of myself locked up, Lex. For her, for Zoe. I didn't want to let anyone close enough to see how broken I was. But if I can't move on, neither can my daughter."

His voice is so low he seems to be talking to himself. "And she deserves someone who can love her like her mother would've… Like she did." He pauses, swallowing against the ache inside him. "Zoe never got to meet our little girl, but she loved Eden with all of her heart."

"And someone else will love her just the same," Lexie says, her voice carrying a warm smile that Harvey can feel even across the distance. "And last time I checked, you're pretty lovable, too. I mean, underneath all that arrogance, there's an actual softie hiding."

Harvey lets out a laugh that's more like a surprised cackle, the tension breaking as he barks, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Never," Lexie fires back with a smug sneer. A moment of silence falls between them, comfortable and light. "Listen, I gotta go, but keep me updated on... wait, what does she even look like? Is she pretty? I bet she's gorgeous!"

"Donna?"

"Mm-hm," she hums.

"Google her," he proposes with a grin. "She has some photos on her daycare website."

"You know what? I'm gonna do that right now, actually," Lexie says, chuckling, and he hears her tapping on her keyboard.

A few seconds later, there's an audible gasp on the other end of the line. "Harvey, are you kidding me? Her beauty is insane!" she exclaims, clearly awestruck. There's a pause, and then she adds with a knowing tone, "It's that smile, isn't it? That's what you fell for first?"

Harvey's own smile softens, his eyes closing for a moment as he pictures Donna's smile—genuine, warm, the kind that lights up her entire face. The memory stirs something in him he hasn't let himself fully acknowledge, and he opens his eyes, sighing. "I didn't fall for her," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

"Yeah, not yet, but you're, like, totally smitten with her, aren't you?" Lexie counters.

"Stop it," he chuckles, feeling the warmth creeping up his neck.

"Are you blushing?" she presses, and he can hear her smirk through the phone.

"I'm not," Harvey insists, but he knows he's not fooling anyone. With a sigh, he gets up from the couch and walks over to the bar, pouring himself a drink. Then, after a beat, he adds, "Okay, maybe a little."

Lexie laughs, her voice turning softer, almost wistful. "I'm rooting for you, Harvey," she says. "And I don't mean for you and Donna. I mean, for you to find happiness. Whether that's with the stunning redhead who runs your daughter's daycare or someone else, I'll always be in your corner, cheering you on."

Harvey pauses, her words settling over him like a comfortable hug. "I know you are," he says, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "And I love you for that."

"I love you, too," she replies, and there's a warmth between them, an unspoken bond that reminds him he's never truly alone. "Now, I really gotta go. But promise me, you'll call me again, maybe next week, hey?"

"Next week… Yes, I promise."

"Perfect. Now go on and be someone's boyfriend," she teases before hanging up.

Harvey laughs, setting his phone down with a shake of his head. Then, he drains his glass in one swift gulp, as if steeling himself with a shot of courage for the conversation he knows he needs to have with Donna.

You're ready enough to want it, Harvey. That's all that matters. Maybe it is, he thinks. At least for now.

•••

Donna must think he's a coward for not showing up this morning after he almost kissed her last night. He got so close, let his guard slip just enough to give her a glimpse of something he's kept buried for years, only to pull away at the last second. She probably thinks he's an asshole anyway, though, so what does it matter? Maybe he deserves it.

In his defense, he really does have an incredibly busy day at work, one he spends most of in conference rooms and courtrooms. The demands keep him moving constantly, burying him under briefs and arguments until he barely has a chance to look at his phone. But even then, in the few spare moments he manages to steal, he catches himself thinking about her.

By the time he finally gets off, the city's skyline has slipped into darkness, the streets glowing in soft pools of light. He's tired, his shoulders aching from hours of tension, and he feels too drained to drive himself, so he asks Ray to take him.

Ray knows him well enough not to ask any questions, not to press when he's this quiet. They ride in silence, and it feels almost as if he's heading somewhere he's not supposed to go, like lambs to the slaughter. And it's odd, really, because a part of him can't wait to see her again. To explain. To apologize, even if he's not sure he can find the right words.

Harvey hovers outside the front door of Donna's brownstone, his hand pausing over the bell. The small button feels almost insignificant under his fingers, like it shouldn't be this easy to cross a threshold that could change things. But he presses it, hearing a melodious chime sound throughout the house, followed by faint footsteps.

When the door opens, he's greeted by a woman with striking features. Her dark, voluminous hair falls in soft waves over one shoulder, and the coral pink dress she's wearing clings just enough to hint at her figure without being overt. The neckline dips low, but there's nothing forced about it. She exudes a natural, effortless confidence that draws his eye.

Her gaze sweeps over him, sharp and appraising, as if she's reading more than his appearance. There's a flicker of amusement in her expression, like she already has him figured out before he's even said a word. When their eyes meet, her lips curve into a knowing smile—playful, a little teasing. She's fully aware of how she affects him, noting his subtle, uneasy movements under her intense stare.

"You're the new dad, aren't you? Damn, you look hot!" She laughs softly, stepping aside to let him in, but not without adding, "No wonder Donna…" She catches herself, biting her lip. "Warned me about you," she finishes, trying to soften the damage of her loose tongue. "I'm Dana, Dana Scott, but you can call me Scottie. I'm Donna's friend slash roommate."

Harvey tries to keep a straight face as his mind lingers on one detail—he's used to the effect he has on women, but this feels different. Donna isn't just any woman who falls for good looks and a practiced charm. If she thinks he's attractive enough to mention to her friend, it means something more. And perhaps, despite everything, he hasn't lost her respect entirely.

He feels relieved and even a glimmer of hope. Scottie's smile doesn't hint at any resentment, which probably means Donna hasn't painted him as the worst person in the world. Maybe he didn't screw things up as badly as he feared. And if Donna still talks about him—still thinks of him fondly enough to make Scottie treat him like this—maybe there's still a chance to make this right.

Clearing his throat, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. "Harvey Specter," he says, offering his hand. "I'm here to pick up my daughter."

Scottie's smile widens. "Her and Donna are watching a movie." She gestures up the stairs, leading the way. "Follow me." As they walk, Scottie glances over her shoulder. "Sorry if I made things awkward. I've got a big mouth sometimes," she says, almost sheepishly.

"It's fine," Harvey replies, trying to suppress a chuckle. "I mean, I know that—"

"You're hot? Yeah, I'm sure you do." Scottie cuts in, her smirk growing wider as she laughs.

Harvey can't help but shake his head, half-amused, half-intrigued. It's no wonder she and Donna are close. Scottie's sharp, funny, self-assured. Probably brilliant, too. And Donna... God, he can't stop wondering what exactly she might have said about him.

As they make it to the top of the stairs, the space opens up immediately into a wide, open-plan living room. There's no hallway there to separate the floors—the room welcomes Harvey as soon as his foot hits the last step.

The living room feels expansive, with high ceilings and a flood of natural light pouring in from the large windows at the far end. The L-shaped sectional sofa is the first thing that catches his eye, positioned in front of a brick fireplace with a large flat-screen above the mantle, where the end credits of Frozen are rolling.

Just off to the right is a sleek set of sliding doors, their frosted glass panels subtly obscuring the area behind them. The doors are left slightly ajar, allowing a glimpse of the kitchen inside. He can see the countertops and stainless steel appliances, but the space remains tucked away, not overwhelming the living room.

The setup is clever, he thinks, with the way it maintains the flow of the open-plan design, while offering the option of closing off the kitchen for a more intimate, tidy feel when necessary.

When fully opened, the sliding walls disappear seamlessly into the structure, blurring the line between the living room and the kitchen. When closed, they create a more distinct division, perfect for quiet dinners or just keeping the mess of cooking out of sight.

A narrow corridor branches off from the living area, its entrance subtly marked by a soft archway. He assumes it leads to the bathroom and the bedrooms, creating a sense of privacy away from the rest.

In one corner of the room is a small round dining table laden with fruit and flowers, with two chairs arranged around it. A cozy armchair nudges up against the large windows, positioned perfectly for reading or simply enjoying the view outside.

The walls are lined with framed photographs, snapshots of Donna and Scottie's lives, along with colorful, abstract artworks.

As Harvey's gaze drifts over the shelves, he notices something that makes him stop short—small, intricately carved wooden pieces. He squints, unsure if he's really seeing what he thinks he's seeing.

"Is that…?"

Scottie catches the direction of his stare and nods, grinning. "Yeah, it's kinda part of my job." Harvey blinks, taken aback, and she laughs at his expression. "I own a sex toy store," she adds casually, as if this is the most normal conversation in the world.

"So, those are…?" he trails off, not quite willing to say it out loud.

"Dildos carved out of wood, yes," Scottie finishes the sentence for him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "We don't bother hiding them up here. The kids never come into this part of the house, and honestly, I'm not sure they'd even know what they are if they did."

Harvey lets out a nervous chuckle, feeling a little off balance. "But these are just for display, right?"

Scottie's smirk deepens. "I'll let your imagination run with that one," she teases. Before Harvey can process the situation any further, Scottie straightens up. "They're knocked out. Must've been quite a day," she says as she gestures toward the couch. "I have a date, so I gotta get ready. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Specter."

"Nice meeting you, Scottie," he replies, feeling strange about how familiar her nickname sounds on his lips. He's barely met her, and yet, between the shop revelation and the playful banter, it feels oddly personal.

Harvey walks over to the sectional sofa, but as he rounds the corner, the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks.

His daughter is curled up in Donna's arms, fast asleep, her soft and even snores barely audible. Donna sits slumped against the couch, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open, lost in the same deep exhaustion as his little girl. Her chest rises and falls gently, one arm cradling Eden protectively while the other lays limp across her lap.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, Harvey leans against the fireplace mantle, taking in the sight of his daughter. She's tucked so perfectly against Donna, as if this is the most natural place in the world for her to be, her tiny hand clutching at the fabric of Donna's shirt.

For a moment, Harvey swears she looks like she belongs there, as if this is how it was always meant to be after his wife…

But it's Donna's face that holds his attention. Her features are completely relaxed, her lips curved slightly upward in the faintest smile. He stares at her, his heart swelling in his chest, so full it almost aches.

She looks so beautiful, he thinks, in a way that's pure and effortless. It makes it difficult to think about anything but kissing her.

His mind turns somersaults at the thought—the foolish thought of kissing Donna awake like he's Prince Charming and she's Sleeping Beauty, because right now, with the way she's cradling his precious baby girl, she's nothing short of magic to him.

Slowly he moves closer, trying not to make a sound, until he's standing by the sofa. He leans down and brushes a strand of hair from Donna's forehead, his fingers lingering on her skin for just a moment longer than they should.

Her warmth pulls him in, and before he can stop himself, he lowers his head, his nose brushing through her hair, breathing her in. The faint scent of her shampoo—he tries to figure out why it matters whether it's lilacs or lavender—wafts into his nostrils, but her natural smell is much stronger, and it makes him dizzy with yearning.

Intoxicated by her aroma, Harvey closes his eyes as though that can help him fight its visceral impact. He dares to feather his lips across Donna's temple, giving her the lightest of kisses, barely more than a whisper against her skin. Donna stirs but doesn't wake, and he watches her for a beat longer, smiling to himself.

"Hey, Donna. It's me," he whispers. He gently nudges her shoulder, careful not to startle her awake too suddenly. "Donna."

She lets out a soft moan as her head lolls forward and her lashes flutter open, but her hold on Eden never loosens. His daughter sighs in her sleep, snuggling deeper into the redhead's embrace.

The moment their eyes lock, Donna blushes, straightening up slightly as if embarrassed to be caught like this. "Hey," she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

He gives her a tender look, as though he's thrilled that he is getting a glimpse of her softer side. "It's almost nine," he replies softly. "I'm sorry. I meant to be here sooner, but—"

"It's okay, Harvey. Don't worry about it."

Her weak smile is sleepy, but damn, he loves that smile—and in that moment he thinks he would devote eternity to seeing it light her face just as much as possible.

He watches as she gently untangles herself from Eden's grip. With a tenderness that feels second nature, she smooths his daughter's hair and tucks her back under the blanket, as though she's done it a thousand times before. It's instinct, he realizes. So effortlessly maternal.

God, you'd be a wonderful mother, Donna, he aches to say. But the words stay lodged in his throat. He doesn't know why she doesn't have any children of her own, and the thought of his words unearthing something painful in her is unbearable. The last thing he wants is to hurt her again.

Donna tucks a strand behind her ear, drawing his eyes to her creamy throat and the perfect shell of her ear, which he has the overwhelming urge to nibble—he quickly reminds himself of the apology he owes her.

"Do you…" He stops, his voice faltering like a car engine sputtering before it dies. His hand moves almost automatically, rubbing the back of his neck—classic tell of his nervousness, he knows, but he can't help it. "Can we talk?"

She blinks, the little furrow between her brows deepening. "You mean now?"

Harvey nods, and he can feel the weight of the moment in his chest, heavy and suffocating, as his heart is racing. Her heartbeat quickens too. He can see it in the way she holds herself, but she's hiding it, trying to stay composed. It's one of the things she seems to be better at than he is.

"I'm not sure this is the right—"

"Please, Donna," he says, cutting her off. His voice is quieter now, softer. He can't risk her walking away from this. "It's important to me."

She presses a soft kiss to Eden's head, and Harvey can feel the love in the gesture. She stands slowly, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt like she's resetting herself. He watches her closely, completely drawn to her, his eyes following her every move.

He can tell she wears no bra, because as she moves, her breasts jiggle more than they would if confined. He dares to let his gaze drift straight to her bosom, noticing the faint outline of her nipples visible through the cotton fabric.

Get a grip on yourself, Specter, a gruff voice commands from the inner recesses of his brain. He should consider himself fortunate that she hasn't caught him staring.

"Okay," Donna murmurs, tilting her head toward the kitchen. When they reach it, she stops, finally turning to face him. "How did you—?"

"Your roommate let me in." His voice comes out lower than he intends, almost like he's apologizing for being here in the first place. His fingers twitch at his sides, restless, unsure of what to do now that he's standing this close to her.

"So, listen," he begins, his hand absently running along the edge of the kitchen counter, his thumb tracing a small groove. Christ, finding the right words to mend the rift between them is even harder than he thought.

His eyes flicker to hers, hoping for some sign that she's willing to hear him out. But before he can continue, Donna interrupts. "If this is about last night…"

He feels a rush of heat at the mention of it, the bitterness in her tone making him wonder if she thinks of their near-kiss as a cruel joke. He opens his mouth, trying to say something, but she presses on, and he can see the resolve in her eyes hardening.

"I get that it's hard to have your wife walk out on you when your child is just an infant, Harvey… I really get it," she says, her voice breaking, proof of a vulnerability barely held in check, wrenching at Donna's heart. He wants to reach out, to comfort her, but he's paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt.

"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. He can sense the storm of emotions raging beneath the surface. "Why would you do that? Why would you get… so close… and then… If you're not…"

Her words hang in the air, sharp and accusatory, cutting deeper than he expected. He can see the hurt etched on her face, a mix of anger and confusion that makes his chest tighten. He's aware that his actions have repercussions, that his inability to push past his fears has left her in turmoil. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her.

"It's not fair," she murmurs. "Especially because…"

And that's when it hits him—what she's really saying. She's not just mad; she's scared. Scared of him, scared of what's between them, and maybe even scared of wanting something she thinks she can't have. The realization settles heavily in his gut, nearly choking him.

He wants to tell her it's okay, that he's just as lost as she is. He wants to explain that he's terrified, too, of opening up his heart to her, of not being able to give her what she needs and losing whatever it is they already have, and more importantly, what she has with his daughter.

But every time he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat, drowning in a tide of self-doubt and unresolved feelings.

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 for him to bear. He watches her, his heart tightening as he realizes how deeply he's affected her. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, filled with unspoken words.

She takes a deep breath, exhaling hard, as if trying to purge the tension from her lungs. "No, you know what? Just forget it. It's fine," she says, her voice clipped. "Eden needs me, and I won't let anything or anyone jeopardize my relationship with her… Not even her own father."

Her words strike him like a physical blow. He can feel his shoulders slump slightly, and he releases a deep, weary sigh. "Can I please just say something?" he asks, his voice low and earnest, desperate to be heard.

Donna tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture that tells him she's bracing for impact. He notices the way her eyes flit away, a mix of apprehension and determination in her posture. She nods eventually, and he can see the mental preparation in her expression, as if she's steeling herself against whatever he might say next.

"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 reveals the next part. "But I wanted to."

He lets those words linger in the space between them, heavy and raw. He studies her, searching her face for any sign of how she'll take them, feeling the tension in the air shift around them.

"And I know that was incredibly selfish," Harvey continues, his tone softening. He feels the vulnerability in her gaze, the flicker of emotions battling within her. "But I really am sorry, Donna."

Her response is immediate, tinged with an edge of vulnerability. "For leading me on?" Her voice has shifted too, softened, but beneath the surface, he can't miss the hurt that slips through in her words.

"No," Harvey breathes, the single word taking on all the more emphasis as he steps closer, as if the physical distance between them could somehow be closed. "For hurting you."

His tongue darts out, swiping over his bottom lip like he's chasing her taste from last night. The memory is vivid—heat, urgency, and the intoxicating sweetness of her against him in that confined space. It's a moment that refuses to fade, echoing in the back of his mind.

"You wanted to?" she whispers. "Why?"

Harvey watches her, struck by the vulnerability in her eyes. He takes another step forward until his chest is almost brushing against hers. He hears Donna's breath catch in her throat, and for a split second, everything else ceases to exist. It's just the two of them, suspended in this moment of possibility.

He gives her a shy smile, a smile that's undeniably a little crooked, and makes him look like a lovesick fool, bringing a soft blush to his cheeks. But he can sense that it does something to her heart—he can see it in her eyes—and that only makes him smile more.

"Cause you're…" He yearns to touch her, but there are a thousand reasons swirling in his mind about why he shouldn't, and so he stays still and just keeps staring at her. "Beautiful," he murmurs. "And funny. And smart. And you make me feel like…" He sighs.

"What, Harvey?" she asks softly.

She makes him feel like a tongue-tied schoolboy. Some uncivilized savage, who's going to combust from desire. Like he's skidding toward an unseen cliff, but that she is his parachute, so he's good to go. But above all—that's the thought that finally breaks him—she makes him feel like the man he was before tragedy turned his soul black.

"She's dead," he croaks, his throat tight with the effort to get the words out. "My wife's dead."

It's a confession that feels both liberating and terrifying, and he can instantly feel the tears coming in a choking flood, can feel the burn at the back of his throat and against his eyes that warns of a break he cannot fight.

Unable to quiet the harsh sobs that erupt from the pit of his stomach, three years' worth of sobs stampeding their way through him, he raises his tear-streaked face to gaze at her. He can see the conflict in her glazed eyes, the way she hesitates, almost as if she's afraid that reaching for him might cause him to shatter completely.

It does.

As Donna's palms cradle his face, a loud sob bursts from deep within him, causing his body to shudder without control, the combination of his grief over his wife and the feeling of being touched by Donna so tentatively, so intimately, making for a near crippling experience.

"It's okay," she whispers, tracing slow circles along his cheeks with her thumbs, catching each tear as it comes. "You don't have to hold it all in." Her tone is soft and soothing, a balm against all his broken pieces. She draws him in, their foreheads coming together, and they close their eyes.

Harvey feels the hard-won shields he's learned to put around his heart fall from him like a tattered and outworn garment under her gentle ministrations. The world slowly begins to fade away as his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer.

His head falls to rest against Donna's shoulder, their bodies pressing against each other, a fragile harmony woven from the threads of their intertwined destinies. Time seems to stretch, encapsulating a lifetime of emotions in a single breath, a single sob.

He's crying because he's mourning his wife, and Donna's crying because she cares about him, feels for him. For an instant, Harvey's afraid he might be hurting her, because his arms are like iron bands around her small waist. Hers feel like home to him—it scares him just how much.

It's the first time since Zoe died that he's melted into another woman's touch, feeling safe to be vulnerable and succumb to his emotions, letting the tension leak out of his muscles as he weeps bitter tears.

He cries until he thinks his eyes must surely be squeezed from their sockets; he cries until his chest hurts and his throat feels like he has been gargling ground glass. He bawls like a child, letting snot flow freely, scrubbing at his face and nose with the sleeves of his ten thousand dollar suit.

It must only have been a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity until his body stops shuddering, his breathing calms, and his sobs die down, reducing to a faint whimper like kitten mewls. Each sound feels like it's wringing the last drops of grief from his chest.

And when those sounds finally stop, leaving the room blanketed in silence, Harvey doesn't move away from her. He stays in Donna's arms a beat longer, his cheek resting against her shoulder, her warmth seeping into him like something he doesn't want to let go of.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he murmurs into her ear, his voice barely more than a rough whisper. "I should've told you sooner."

She shushes him softly. "You told me now," she says. Her hand moves to his hair, her fingers gentle as they smooth over the back of his head. "And I'm glad you did, Harvey."

He pushes her back a little and brushes the side of her neck with his lips. His mouth barely grazes her skin, but he can feel her shiver against him, a soft exhale slipping from her lips as he lets her go. She's so close he can see the slight glisten of unshed tears in her eyes.

She smiles faintly, her fingers feathering across his cheek in a way that's both reassuring and somehow intimate. "Do you wanna tell me more?" she asks, her voice soft, inviting, as if she'd sit there all night if he wanted her to.

"Not tonight," he croaks, swallowing the lump in his throat, and she nods, her understanding somehow making him feel less like he's retreating and more like he's just… taking a breath.

"Okay," she whispers, her thumb brushing over his skin. "But I'm here for you… Whenever you need me."

Harvey offers her a weak smile, and mouths a quiet thank you, the words he can't say yet filling the space between them. Then he clears his throat and says, "I better take Eden home before she gets the wrong impression."

The words come out too quick, and as he sees Donna's gaze drop, a pang of regret tightens his chest. "But if you want…" he stammers, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice as he scrambles to recover. "I mean, I… I'd like to have dinner with you." His voice rises at the end like a question, as if he's not even sure it's okay to ask.

There's a sudden wave of insecurity as he studies her expression, wondering if he's reading too much into this, if he's stepping over some invisible line. Fuck, is he really asking her out?

"Or coffee," he adds, almost too briskly, like he's correcting himself. "Coffee is…" His voice trails off, his mind grappling with the right words. Coffee is less. Less than dinner, less than what he really wants, but maybe safer, more casual. It doesn't carry the weight that dinner would, doesn't suggest… well, what he's not sure he can even admit yet. "We can have that coffee you wanted."

Donna's eyes rise back to his, and for a moment, a warm smile dances across her lips, soft and knowing, like she sees right through him. He feels a flush rise up his neck. But he holds her gaze, sensing a spark of something he hasn't allowed himself to feel in far too long—bliss.

He watches as she tilts her head, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes, and he knows, in that way only he can with her, that she's not fooled by his attempt to downplay it. And as he waits for her answer, heart pounding, he realizes he doesn't want her to be.