A/N: Before anyone gets worried... one more chapter from Harvey's pov and then it's their dinner x3
Past, Present, Future
"Finally, darling!" Rachel greets Donna with a warm hug, pulling her in tightly like they haven't seen each other in years. "It's been way too long since we had a proper girls' night," she adds, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "I've missed you."
"Missed you, too," Donna replies, sighing as she sinks into the familiar comfort of Rachel's presence. "I've been so tied up with work lately, and family stuff. I'm sorry I haven't made more time for this."
Rachel waves her off, her smile easy and understanding. "It's okay. You're here now, and that's what matters."
Rachel insisted on cooking tonight, despite Donna's protests that she should at least help. They settle at the table, the first sip of wine warming them from the inside out.
The initial talk revolves around work, a safe topic, but as the wine flows, the conversation loosens, and Donna feels the stress of the past few weeks begin to melt away. She leans back in her chair, rolling her shoulders as if physically shedding the weight of her job's constant demands.
Rachel smirks over the rim of her glass before taking another slow sip. She places it down, then props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. There's an all-too-familiar mischievous glint in her eye, the kind that usually precedes either a dangerous piece of gossip or an outrageous idea.
Donna quirks an eyebrow, setting her fork down. "Oh no. I know that look... What are you about to rope me into this time?"
Rachel grins, reaching for the wine bottle to top off both their glasses before finally speaking. "So," she begins casually, although her tone suggests she's been holding this in for a while, "have you met the lawyer side of Harvey Specter yet?"
Donna chuckles, shaking her head. "No, not really." She's fully aware of Rachel's fascination with Harvey's behavior toward her, and it's not the first time she's tried to dig deeper into the topic. "Honestly, I'm not sure that version of him exists around me. He's different. Less arrogant, less of the cocky guy you and Mike have warned me about." She pauses, swirling the wine in her glass thoughtfully. "He's kind, Rachel. Sweet. Caring and gentle."
Her voice softens as she speaks, and she realizes she might be revealing more than she intended. The almost-kiss flashes through her mind. A moment of overwhelming intensity that still rattles her. She decides not to mention it.
"But he's also got a lot of… baggage," Donna continues, her tone tinged with uncertainty. "That makes him… I wouldn't say hard to read, exactly, but complicated? And I can't help but wonder sometimes what it would be like if I hadn't met him through work. If things were… different."
"Oh. My. God." Rachel's gasp is so dramatic that it makes Donna laugh despite herself. "You really like him!" Rachel accuses, pointing her fork at Donna as though she's just uncovered a grand conspiracy.
Donna's cheeks flush a deep pink. She tries to brush it off with a chuckle, but Rachel is relentless.
"You're so smitten with that man. It's all over your face."
"Rachel," Donna protests, "he's basically my client. His daughter goes to my daycare."
"I know he's your client, Donna. And I know you've got that unshakable rule about not getting involved with the parents. But let's be honest here… I've known you long enough to tell when you're into someone. And you're into him." She leans back, studying Donna with a teasing grin. "The way you talk about him, the way your entire face softens when you say his name—it's a dead giveaway. You've got a major crush on Harvey Specter."
Donna picks up her wineglass and takes a sip, hoping it'll help mask the turmoil brewing inside her. It doesn't. "You don't know what you're talking about," she mumbles.
"Oh, please. Harvey is a fine-looking man. He's a great, loving dad—which is, like, catnip for someone like you—and on top of that, he's got that Specter charm. Everyone knows that's lethal. If I were you, I'd be swooning too."
Donna snorts. "Aren't you married, Rachel?"
"I never said he's my type," Rachel retorts, popping a crouton into her mouth. "But clearly, he's yours."
Donna narrows her eyes at her friend, but she can't hide the tiny smile playing about her lips. Rachel always knows how to push her buttons, and tonight is no exception. "You're annoying."
"And you're deflecting," Rachel counters, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Admit it. He makes you tingle."
Donna nearly chokes on her wine. "He makes me tingle?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you know, all warm and fuzzy inside," Rachel says, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.
Donna shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out of her. "I think you've had too much wine."
"I haven't had enough," Rachel says with a grin, tipping her glass toward Donna. "But speaking of indulgences… I made some tiramisu that I'd very much like you to try."
"If it means I don't have to listen to you talk anymore, then yes, I'll have some," Donna replies, her tone teasing.
As Rachel disappears into the kitchen, Donna leans back in her chair, her smile fading slightly. She hates how easily Rachel can read her, but it's the undeniable truth: Harvey does make her tingle. And so much more.
The thought of risking her reputation, her relationship with Eden, for something so uncertain, still terrifies her. But at the same time, the idea of never knowing what could be? That might scare her even more. And Rachel probably knows that, too, even without her admitting it.
When Rachel returns from the kitchen with dessert, Donna takes a deep breath, bracing herself. She watches Rachel place the plate of tiramisu in front of her, the rich scent of coffee and cream wafting up. It's comforting, but it does little to settle the swirling thoughts in her mind.
"You know, Harvey and I—" Donna starts, her voice hesitant.
But the words catch in her throat. No. She can't say it. Not yet. She doesn't want to jinx it, doesn't want to tell Rachel about how Harvey asked her out to dinner. Not when the thought of it still feels so fragile, so new. What if it doesn't go well? It could be a disaster. What then? What if… No, that should stay between her and Harvey, at least for now.
Rachel's curious gaze lingers on her, her brow furrowing slightly. "You and Harvey, what?" she presses, setting her own plate down as she sits.
Donna's mind scrambles for an alternative, something that would explain the tension in her voice, the nervous energy humming under her skin. "Harvey and I…" She looks down at her plate, the tiramisu blurring in her vision as she searches for an answer.
"We get along pretty well, and you're right," she says at last. "Watching him with Eden, seeing what an incredible father he is, it stirs something in me. It reminds me of how much I want that." She pauses, catching Rachel's look and quickly clarifies, "I mean that kind of connection. That kind of relationship."
Rachel sets her fork down, her expression softening. "So, does that mean you're thinking about starting treatment?" she asks, her voice gentle.
Donna nods slowly, letting the words come out carefully, like they're fragile glass. "Right now is probably not the best time, but eventually…" She swallows hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I thought about what you said, Rach. And I want to fight for my dream. I don't want to look back in ten years and regret not having tried everything, you know?"
Rachel reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand on Donna's arm.
"And," Donna continues, her voice growing firmer, "I don't want to depend on a man. I shouldn't have to. I'd want my kid to have a father. Someone who's present in their life, who…" She pauses, her throat tightening. "…loves me. But I also don't want to wait too long for that to happen. I want to take control of this for myself."
Rachel stays silent for a moment, her face thoughtful as she processes Donna's words. Then a small smile spreads across her lips. "I'm happy for you, Donna. This isn't an easy decision to make, but you deserve another chance." She pauses, her smile growing a little wry. "And between us, I never really thought you and Mark would work out anyway."
Donna blinks, taken aback. "Why not?"
"Come on…" Rachel's tone sharpens slightly, her protective instincts kicking in. "He left you the moment he found out you might not be able to have kids. He didn't even give you a chance to process it. Instead, he added to your misery by dumping you."
Her voice rises, the anger clear. "Who does that? Who leaves a woman at her most vulnerable? The way he just packed his bags and left you crying for days? What a—" She cuts herself off, stabbing at her dessert instead. "I'm sorry, but he's a fucking asshole, Donna. You two were engaged, ready to build a life together, and he just—"
Rachel takes an angry bite of tiramisu, shaking her head as she chews. "I know you dreamed of marrying the guy, but he never deserved you. And you didn't deserve him, either. You deserve better."
Though Rachel's words stir up a flood of painful memories, Donna can't help the faint smile tugging at her lips. "I know that now," she says softly. "It took me a while, but… you're right. He wasn't the one. And I'm glad he showed his true colors before we started a family."
"Exactly," Rachel says, her tone resolute. She leans back in her chair, exhaling a deep breath. "I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who would treat you far better than Mark Meadows ever did. Like—"
"Ah, ah, ah," Donna interrupts, raising her fork to halt Rachel's next words. "Don't."
"What?" Rachel grins, the playful glint returning to her eyes. "You already admitted that Harvey Specter is a real catch."
"I never said that," Donna insists, though the smirk spreading across her face betrays her.
Rachel raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. "You didn't have to."
Donna sighs, unable to stop the warmth blooming in her chest at the thought of Harvey. "I just said he's really… sweet to me."
"You like him," Rachel teases, her voice sing-song.
"Of course I like him," Donna replies, her tone exasperated but amused. "But that doesn't mean—"
"Sure, honey," Rachel cuts her off with a knowing smirk. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
Donna snorts, rolling her eyes as she takes another bite of tiramisu. But as the conversation shifts again, she can't help the way her thoughts linger on Harvey. Maybe it doesn't have to mean anything. But maybe it already does.
•••
"Ready to have your panties scared off?" Rachel announces in her best spooky voice, carrying a giant bowl of popcorn into the living room.
Donna looks up from where she's curled on the couch, her legs tucked under a blanket. She smirks, already anticipating Rachel's over-the-top reactions more than the film itself. "Oh yeah, I'm shaking in my boots already," she quips, rolling her eyes dramatically for effect.
Rachel plops down beside her with exaggerated flair, nearly upsetting the bowl of popcorn as she wedges it between them. She kicks her feet up onto the footrest and wiggles her toes, a grin spreading across her face. "You're gonna regret that attitude when you're screaming louder than me," she teases.
"Unlikely," Donna shoots back, settling deeper into the couch as the opening credits roll.
The movie begins, and for the first twenty minutes, Donna finds herself half-distracted by the flickering lights from the TV and the low hum of Rachel crunching on popcorn beside her. She can't help but notice how good it feels to just… relax. No work, no schedules. Just her best friend, a blanket, and a movie that's trying its hardest to be scary, but mostly just feels predictable.
Halfway through the film, Rachel nudges her with her elbow. Donna glances over, raising an eyebrow at the mischievous grin on her friend's face.
"See, they have such great chemistry on-screen," Rachel says, gesturing to the couple currently running from the killer. Her grin widens as she adds, "Just like you and Harvey."
"Are you comparing my life to a horror movie right now?" Donna says, amused. She reaches for the popcorn bowl, grabs a handful, and flings a single piece directly at Rachel's nose.
"Ow!" Rachel shrieks, more from surprise than actual pain.
Donna grins, her voice dripping with mockery. "You're such an idiot." She punctuates her statement by throwing a few more kernels at her friend, watching with satisfaction as they bounce harmlessly off Rachel's arm.
Rachel gasps in mock offense, grabbing her own handful of popcorn to retaliate, but the attempt dissolves into laughter before she can launch her counterattack. Both women double over in giggles, the kind that leaves their sides aching.
"I'm serious, though!" Rachel insists through her laughter. "I think you guys would be so hot together."
Donna smirks, but doesn't say anything as she watches Rachel proceed to chuck a bit of popcorn into the air. She misses in an effort to catch it in her mouth. It bounces off her chin, landing somewhere on the couch. Donna snorts at her failed attempt.
"I really have missed this," she murmurs, her smile softening as she looks at the brunette. "Missed you."
Rachel's teasing expression shifts into something gentler. "Same," she replies, her voice equally quiet. The pause that follows feels comfortable, like they're both just savoring the moment. "You want some whiskey?" Rachel then says.
Donna's smile quickly morphs into a grin. "Are you trying to get me drunk so I come clean about my feelings?"
"What feelings?" Rachel asks, feigning innocence with a hand pressed dramatically to her chest. "I thought you said there was nothing going on?" Her exaggerated expression lasts all of three seconds before she bursts into laughter, unable to keep up the act.
Donna rolls her eyes, but she's grinning. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"You absolutely did." Rachel hops off the couch, practically bouncing toward the cabinet where she stores the liquor.
She grabs a bottle of scotch and two glasses, then walks back over to the couch. Donna straightens, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her legs. Rachel pours them each a generous amount, then sets the bottle down on the coffee table.
Mumbling her thanks, Donna brushes a strand of hair out of her face and takes a long sip of whiskey, savoring the brief burn as it slides down her throat. She leans back into the couch, trying to push thoughts of Harvey—or any feelings she has for him—out of her mind.
Just then, her phone buzzes from inside her pocket. The sharp vibration cuts through the moment, yanking her attention back to reality. With a sigh, she pulls her phone out, glancing at the screen. The message freezes her in place. Her breath catches, and she almost drops the glass she's holding, fumbling awkwardly to keep it steady.
"Donna?" Rachel asks, her voice tinged with concern as she takes in Donna's pale expression and wide, stunned eyes. "What's wrong?"
Donna stares at the phone for a moment longer, as if willing the message to disappear. "I'm being sued."
Rachel's head snaps toward her, her own glass frozen halfway to her lips. "What?" she gasps, setting the whiskey down. "By who?"
Donna swallows hard, her throat suddenly dry despite the whiskey she just drank. She keeps her eyes glued to the phone. Her mind races. A tangled mess of fear, anger, and disbelief. "Remember the kid I told you about?" she asks, her voice trembling. "The one I expelled from the daycare right before Eden came to me?"
"Milo Tanner," Rachel says slowly, the name clicking into place. Her brows knit together in confusion. "Yeah, I remember him. He's the one who bit you so hard you had to rush to the ER. You had to get stitches, right?"
Donna nods, her gaze dropping to her hands. She rubs her thumb against her palm absently, as though trying to soothe herself. "I tried, Rachel," she murmurs, frustration and sadness coloring her voice. "But it didn't work.
"I did everything I could to get through to him, but it was simply too much. He was causing too much trouble, and I couldn't—" She breaks off, taking a shaky breath. "He was lashing out at me so badly. I had to do something before he started hurting the other kids. I had to protect my babies," she says, her voice cracking.
She remembers the worst of it. Milo's outbursts had escalated, his behavior becoming more erratic and dangerous. She'd agonized over every decision, every strategy to help him adjust. But when he sank his teeth into her arm with enough force to leave a scar and a week-long infection, she'd known she couldn't wait any longer.
The memory surfaces with painful clarity, each detail sharper than she wants it to be. She can still feel the bite, the searing pain that shot up her arm, the horror of seeing her own blood. She remembers the way she fought to hold it together in front of the other kids, her priority always on keeping them calm, even when she wasn't.
Rachel's expression softens as she reaches out, running a hand across Donna's shoulder. "You did the right thing letting him go, Donna," she says firmly, her voice full of reassurance. "No one can blame you for that."
Rachel's words don't quite reach the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest, but they finally make Donna meet her gaze. "Well, apparently someone does," she says bitterly, holding up her phone. "I just got a text from my lawyer. He told me to prepare for trial."
Rachel sits up straighter, her hand still resting on Donna's shoulder. "Trial?"
Donna nods slowly, biting her lip to keep the tears threatening to spill at bay. "Because Travis Tanner is suing me for wrongful termination."
"The kid's father?"
"Yes, he's claiming Milo was unfairly treated because he has special needs. That my daycare policies are discriminatory." She presses a hand to her chest, trying to ease the growing tightness there. "And that the severe head trauma Milo suffered happened under my care."
Rachel's jaw drops, her confusion giving way to anger. "What? Donna, that's insane. You would never—"
"He's lying, Rachel!" Donna cuts in, her voice trembling as the first tear slips down her cheek. "He's just trying to—" Her words are swallowed by a sob, her shoulders shaking at the serious accusations.
Rachel moves closer, wrapping an arm around Donna and pulling her into a hug. "Hey," she soothes, her voice wrapping itself around Donna, cradling and supporting her. "I know you wouldn't let anything bad happen to any of your kids. And I know you did your best with Milo, too." She squeezes Donna gently, her other hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
Donna leans into the embrace, but her mind is racing. She remembers how hard she worked to reach Milo, how many hours she spent trying to create a safe space for him. She remembers the sleepless nights, worrying about his outbursts and how they affected the other children. And now, all of it—the love, the effort, the sacrifices—is being twisted into something ugly.
"I thought it would go away," Donna whispers, her voice muffled against Rachel's shoulder. "I didn't think—" She pulls back slightly, wiping at her tear-streaked face. "I didn't think it would actually go to trial. Because it's not true, Rachel. None of it is true."
Rachel nods, her eyes filled with empathy. "Of course it's not true," she says, sighing. "Anyone who's seen the way you love those kids knows this is all just—" She pauses, searching for the right word. "Insane. No one's gonna believe this shit!"
Donna lets out a shaky breath, but the anxiety doesn't ease. "But what if they do? What if this ruins my reputation? My livelihood?" She stares down at her hands, her fingers trembling as she digs her fingernails deep into her own flesh. "Rachel, this daycare is my life. My dream. I built it from nothing, and now—" Her voice breaks again, and she lets out a strangled cry, frustration and desperation intertwining.
"Listen to me," Rachel says softly, her hands moving to cup Donna's face, forcing her to look up. "This isn't the end, okay? We're going to fight this. You're going to fight this." She feathers her thumbs across Donna's cheek. "And the first thing you'll do," she continues, her voice soft but insistent, "is reach out to Harvey."
Donna pulls back slightly. "Harvey?"
"Yes, Harvey." Rachel's tone leaves no room for argument. "No offense to my dear husband, but Harvey is the best attorney this city has ever seen. Harvey Specter is what Travis Tanner thinks he is. And if there's anyone who could go up against that bastard, it's him."
"But I already got a lawyer," Donna counters. She sniffles, absently rubbing her thumb against her palm again, a paltry attempt to calm herself.
"Screw him," Rachel retorts immediately, her bluntness pulling a faint smile from Donna despite herself. "This is important. Too important to rely on someone you think is good enough. You have to be sure, Donna. You have to get the best. And Harvey is the best."
Donna swallows hard. She doesn't doubt Harvey's skill—how could she? She's heard him work miracles in the courtroom, heard the whispered legends about his victories. But reaching out to him? Asking for his help?
Rachel doesn't stop. "Besides," she adds, her voice dipping lower, "he and Travis hate each other. So, you know Harvey will put in some extra effort to crush this case."
Donna lets out a shaky breath, her mind flitting back to Travis Tanner. His smug face, his reputation for taking people down without mercy. She knows this lawsuit isn't just about Milo's father seeking revenge. It's about power, about making an example of her. And deep down, she knows Rachel is right. She needs Harvey.
Rachel's hand moves to Donna's knee, her touch warm and comforting. "And it affects Eden, too," she says softly. "If you have to close the daycare, his daughter will lose her favorite place. You know how much she loves it there. Please, Donna. Let Harvey help you."
Donna's heart twists painfully at the mention of Eden. That sweet, bright-eyed girl who adores art time and insisted on Donna making her plush dinosaur Mr. Snuggles his own nameplate for the coat rack. She can't let this lawsuit take that away from her—or from the other children. Her daycare isn't just a business. It's a home, a haven, a place where she pours her heart into every little detail. And now, it is being threatened.
Her eyes drop to her phone again, the screen lighting up as she absently brushes a finger over it. She hesitates, her thumb hovering over Harvey's contact. The thought of reaching out to him feels daunting, as though she's admitting she can't handle this on her own.
"Text him," Rachel says firmly, her voice breaking through Donna's internal debate.
Donna looks up at her, uncertain.
"Now," Rachel urges.
Finally, Donna nods. She pulls up Harvey's number, her chest tightening as she types out the message. Her hands tremble slightly, but she keeps going. The sound of her thumbs tapping against the screen seems impossibly loud in the quiet room, and she feels Rachel leaning in closer, watching over her shoulder.
D: Hey, I need to take you up on that offer... I'm being sued.
For a moment, nothing happens. Donna stares at the screen, her breath caught in her throat as she waits. And then, his response comes through, quick and concise:
H: I'm busy right now, but we'll talk when I'm back. Over dinner. Don't worry, Donna. I got you.
Donna exhales sharply, relief washing over her, if only for a moment.
D: Thanks, Harvey.
H: Consider the case closed.
Rachel peers at the screen, her lips curving into a slow smile. "Dinner?" She stares intently at Donna, trying to read her expression, then lets out a shocked gasp. "Wait, are you and Harvey having dinner together? Like, just the two of you?" She gently bumps Donna's shoulder. "And you didn't tell me? I'm offended."
Donna throws her phone into the cushions before grabbing the bottle to pour herself some more whiskey. "I didn't wanna jinx it," she admits. "I don't even know what I was thinking, saying yes. I'm afraid it's too… much. For me. For him. For… Am I crazy, Rachel? Agreeing to have dinner with a man who's still mourning the loss of his wife? Whose daughter relies on my professionalism? Because if this-this thing with Harvey becomes complicated, I might have to let Eden go."
"He told you about Zoe?"
"That she died?" Donna nods. "Yeah, he did," she murmurs, her voice growing smaller. "Were you close?"
Rachel sighs. "Do you remember that girls' trip we took to the Hamptons three years ago? When I said it was to honor a friend?"
"That was her?"
"It was her present. She wanted me to have a weekend to relax since Ivy was going through the terrible twos."
"Rachel, I had no idea," Donna murmurs. "You said your friend passed away, but…"
"It's okay. You didn't know." She pauses. "But I'm glad Harvey finally told you. I was worried it might slip out. And, you know, you can just think of this dinner with him as a work thing. If it helps. To get to know him better. It doesn't have to be anything… romantic."
"It's not," Donna is quick to insist as she takes a generous swig from her drink and lets the liquid slowly drain down her throat, burning her insides as it settles in her stomach. "I don't know what it is," she sighs. "I just know that I'm really looking forward to spending more time with him, because he makes me…"
"Tingle?" Rachel teases, making Donna laugh.
"Shut up!" Donna says, amused.
"You know, Harvey used to be an amazing cook. But, unfortunately, after Zoe died, he started relying on takeout more. He was too busy with work, and taking care of Eden, and cooking was kinda his and Zoe's thing, so I guess now it's just too… I don't know. Maybe it's too sad for him, now that he has to do it alone," Rachel muses, heaving a deep sigh. "I hope when Eden is old enough to help more in the kitchen, he'll rediscover his love for cooking. I miss fancy dinners at the Specters."
She halts. "Hey, Mike and I are taking Harvey out for his birthday. You should come," she suggests.
"It's his birthday? When?"
"In two weeks. The kids will stay with my parents, so it's just us. Having a few drinks. Playing some pool." She pauses, watching Donna closely. "If you'd join, we could play in teams. Us against the boys, or you and Harvey… together," she grins, "against me and Mike."
"And you're sure Harvey wouldn't mind if I—"
Rachel interrupts her with a shake of her head. "You know he wouldn't," she replies. "Like, duh! He's having dinner with you, right? So, will you at least think about it?"
Donna giggles softly. "Fine," she says, smiling. "I will."
•••
Donna hasn't stopped thinking about him all week. Every single day, he finds his way into her mind.
She thinks about Harvey every morning when a parent comes through the daycare door, arms full with their kid and a stuffed animal or a forgotten lunchbox. And she thinks about him every night, just before falling asleep, wondering if he's okay, if Eden is okay, and what he might be doing in Chicago. It's a miracle, really, that he doesn't haunt her dreams, too.
She hates admitting it, but Rachel is right. Harvey Specter makes her tingle. But it isn't just the surface attraction, the way his voice or his smirk make her heart skip a beat. No, it's something deeper.
It's the butterflies in her stomach whenever she thinks of him. The way the thought of seeing him tomorrow for dinner turns those butterflies into a full-blown battalion of bats. Donna exhales sharply, just thinking about it. She really is falling for him and there's nothing she can do.
Trying to push her racing thoughts aside, she steps into her spacious glassed-in shower, moaning audibly as the pounding water hits her from every angle, crown to buttocks. For a moment, she lets herself sink into the sensation, closing her eyes as the steam envelopes her, the water relaxing her muscles and calming her nerves.
She takes her time, massaging shampoo into her scalp and smoothing conditioner through her hair, enjoying the small luxury of the hot shower. It's one of the few places where her mind feels quiet, where she doesn't have to think about all the ways Harvey Specter is getting under her skin.
But, of course, the quiet doesn't last. By the time she steps out and grabs a towel, her thoughts are right back to him.
As she stands at the vanity, drying her hair with one hand and scrolling through her emails with the other, her phone buzzes suddenly, its vibration rattling against the marble countertop. Startled, Donna snatches it up, her brows knitting together as she sees the caller ID flash across the screen. He's calling her. Harvey is calling her.
Her heart takes off, pounding hard and fast in her chest like she just ran drills. She feels a rush of adrenaline so intense it leaves her slightly breathless.
"Harvey… Hey!" she answers as she sits on the edge of the bathtub. Her voice is light, though her cheeks are flushed just from saying his name out loud. She enjoys the way his name rolls over her tongue. "You're the last person I expected to call me, especially this early."
Donna smiles, the corners of her lips lifting automatically. But as her mind races with possibilities, contemplating the reason for his call, a sudden realization strikes her—he might have bad news. "Is something wrong?" she asks, unable to keep the worry out of her voice, her stomach twisting at the thought. "Is Eden okay?"
"She's fine," Harvey mumbles, his tone soft, and Donna exhales quietly, a great flood of relief washing over her. That's the most important thing—Eden's fine. "Is it okay if we…" He clears his throat, and for a moment, he sounds… bashful? "Can I put you on video?"
Donna blinks, her brows lifting in surprise. Video? She hesitates for half a second, wondering why he'd want to see her face. The thought sends her stomach flipping again. Maybe he needs to tell her something and wants her to see his expression. Maybe it's something she won't like. Or maybe it's something she'd definitely like.
Oh God, she's not even wearing anything.
A nervous laugh escapes her as she catches her naked form in the mirror. "Y-yeah, just give me a second…"
She scrambles to her feet, her gaze darting around. Spotting the white shirt draped over the armchair in the corner of her bedroom, she darts over, still clutching the phone with one hand. She pulls the oversized shirt over her head, its soft cotton sliding down to cover her. She doesn't bother with anything else—he'll only see her from the shoulders up, after all.
Once dressed, she crosses back to the bed, perching on the edge and brushing a hand through her damp hair. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before speaking.
"Okay, I'm ready," she says, her voice a little breathless but laced with a soft giggle. She smiles into the receiver, unable to stop herself from imagining his face on the other end as she waits for him to tap the video call button. The screen lights up, and when Harvey's face comes into view, Donna's breath catches in her throat.
He appears to be wearing gym clothes, the dark gray shirt clinging to him like a second skin, damp with sweat. His hair is slightly mussed, as though he'd run his hands through it after finishing a particularly intense set. The subtle sheen on his skin, the way his shoulders seem broader under the thin fabric, sends a wave of heat rolling through her lower body. For a moment, she just stares, her lips parting slightly.
Damn it, Harvey. He looks good—too good—and it's honestly unfair.
"Hey," he says, a smile spreading across his face. He's adjusting the angle of his phone, the movement making the muscles in his arm flex ever so slightly. Donna forces herself to swallow, dragging her eyes away from the distracting details and up to his face. But even that doesn't help.
His cheeks are flushed, either from the workout or from the heat of the gym, and there's a hint of vulnerability in the way his eyes meet hers through the screen. It's a lethal combination—strong and a little unguarded—and it sends another flutter through her chest.
"Good morning," she manages to get out, trying to steady her voice and hide the way her pulse is racing. "Why are you calling?"
Not that I'd mind…
Harvey exhales, running a hand over his face, and Donna can already tell something's wrong. "Because I can't make dinner," he says finally, the weight of his words heavy in the air. Her heart sinks. Just a little. But she says nothing, waiting for him to explain.
He pauses, clearly frustrated with himself. "I'm so sorry, but we had some major turbulence during our flight, and Eden got so scared, she doesn't want to fly back. So…" He sighs deeply, leaning back to rest against what Donna assumes is a desk or a table in his hotel room. His expression is pained, his jaw tight as he continues, "We have to get a rental and drive to New York, which means I won't be back in time for our date."
Donna feels a pang of disappointment, but it's brief, overshadowed by her understanding of what this situation must have been like for him—and Eden. She can imagine it so clearly: Harvey on the plane, doing everything in his power to comfort his terrified daughter.
She watches him through the screen as he waits, bracing himself for her reaction. She recognizes the tension in his posture, the regret in his eyes, and it hits her then, just how much this dinner means to him. How much she means to him.
"It's okay, Harvey," she says softly, offering him a reassuring smile. She means it, too. Of course she does. How could she ever be upset with him for putting Eden first? But instead of relief, Donna sees the frustration tighten his features further.
He shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he pushes back against her words. "No, it's not okay," he says, his voice sharper than before. "This is…" He cuts himself off, but she knows what he's trying to say. She can feel the unspoken weight of the word important. It hangs in the space between them, unacknowledged but undeniable.
Donna's heart feels heavy at the sight of him, so clearly upset, so clearly blaming himself. It tugs at something deep inside her, the part of her that wants to step in and make it better, to soothe the panic she can see bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Harvey," she says gently, her voice breaking the silence like a soft touch. "What if we just do it on Sunday instead?" She watches as her words pull him back, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he takes a deep breath. The tension in his jaw eases, his eyes closing briefly before he looks back at her.
"Yeah," he croaks, his voice rough with emotion. He clears his throat, nodding more firmly this time. "Yeah. That'll do."
Donna's smile widens, warmth spreading through her chest as she watches him steady himself. "Then Sunday it is," she says, her tone light and sure, as though rescheduling is the easiest thing in the world.
Inside, though, her thoughts race. She's not mad. She's not even disappointed, not really. She's just struck, all over again, by how much Harvey cares. About her. About Eden. About not letting anyone down. And while part of her is relieved that their dinner will still happen, another part of her is deeply touched by how much he wanted it to be perfect in the first place.
On the other end of the line, Harvey looks at her for a moment longer, as if he's searching for something in her expression, maybe permission to let go of his guilt. Donna holds his gaze, offering him nothing but warmth and reassurance, and she swears she sees something soften in his eyes.
"Thanks, Donna," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, more genuine.
"Anytime," she replies softly, her heart swelling at the vulnerability in his tone.
Silence settles between them for a moment, then Harvey's expression hardens. "Do you wanna tell me about who's suing you and for what?"
Donna looks away, her stomach twisting painfully as her heart beats against her ribs. She swallows hard, trying to breathe through the constriction in her chest. If this were a nightmare, she thinks bitterly, she'd eventually wake up. But it's not a nightmare, it's real. And that reality feels like it's suffocating her.
She wants to tell him everything. God, she wants to. About how Travis Tanner, of all people, is the one coming after her. How he's suing her daycare, threatening her livelihood, her passion—everything she's worked so damn hard to build. But not like this.
Not over the phone, not when the weight of it feels so crushing. This is a conversation she needs to have face-to-face, not with miles of distance and a screen between them. She doesn't want to see the flicker of anger or pity in his eyes through pixels. She wants to be able to feel his presence, to know he's really there.
Sucking in a quiet breath, Donna shakes her head lightly, not trusting her voice at first. "Not over the phone," she murmurs, her words barely audible.
Harvey exhales slowly, his expression softening, though his concern doesn't waver. He studies her closely for a moment, his sharp gaze searching her face as if trying to read between the lines she isn't saying. "Fine," he mumbles, his voice steady but edged with reluctance. "I get that. But… How are you feeling? Are you okay?"
The question cuts through her defenses like a blade. How is she supposed to answer that? Is she okay? Not really. Not when she feels like the walls are closing in. Not when everything she's built is under threat. But she doesn't want to unload all of that on him. Not now, not when he's already juggling so much.
Donna nods, her lips curving into a faint smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she breathes softly, the word feeling hollow even as it leaves her mouth. She knows Harvey won't buy it, though.
Sure enough, his brow lifts slightly, and his silence feels like a challenge. So, as if to bolster her answer, Donna adds with a bit more conviction, "I'm okay, Harvey." His eyes narrow slightly, unconvinced, but he doesn't press her.
There's a beat of silence before she continues, her voice quieter now, but carrying the raw sincerity she knows he needs to hear. "I'm okay knowing you'll help," she murmurs, her smile softening and becoming a little more genuine.
Harvey doesn't hesitate. "Of course," he says, his reply instinctive, almost automatic. There's no doubt in his tone, no second-guessing. "And just so you know," he adds, his voice firm, "I'm doing it for free."
Donna's lips part as she starts to protest, the words already forming on her tongue. "Harvey, you—"
"No," he cuts her off. "I don't want you to pay me a single dime."
She's about to push back, to tell him she doesn't need special treatment, but something in his expression makes her pause.
"Donna, you spend every day of the week looking after my daughter. The least I can do is make sure you win this case."
Donna watches him closely, her heart squeezing in her chest. She can see it in his eyes—the depth of his care, how much vulnerability he's letting slip through the cracks. Her smile grows softer, filled with genuine warmth. She mouths a quiet "Thank you," her voice catching slightly when she finally says it aloud.
Harvey nods, his expression a little brighter, and for a brief moment, the distance between them doesn't feel quite so far. And then, as if on instinct, Donna's lips curl into a smirk, and a teasing sparkle dances in her eyes.
"So, what have you been up to?" Her gaze flits over him, taking in the faint sheen on his forehead and the way his T-shirt clings to his chest. "You look all sweaty."
His chuckle comes easily, his posture relaxing as he settles onto the bed. "I've just been to the gym."
Donna arches a perfectly sculpted brow, her smirk deepening as she tilts her head, just enough to let her hair brush her shoulder. "I guess you could use a shower then, huh?"
The words roll off her tongue effortlessly, but she knows there's an edge to them. She observes him, reveling in the way her comment lands. His reaction is subtle but unmistakable; there's a flicker in his eyes, a moment of hesitation that makes her wonder just how much her teasing is affecting him.
"Yeah," he says after a beat, his voice dropping to a gravelly tone that surprises her. "I probably should." She doesn't miss how his gaze lingers on her, how his eyes trace the curve of her smile, the stray strands of hair she didn't bother to tuck behind her ear.
She doesn't look away, holding his gaze. "Probably?" she presses, her grin widening as she lets her amusement seep into her tone.
He matches her smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he finally relents. "Okay, definitely," he says, and there's something about the way his voice softens, the way he looks at her, that causes her heart to skitter as it hasn't done since she was in high school and had a crush on the popular boy in her class.
With a small sigh, Donna crawls back, her movements fluid and unhurried, as she settles herself against the headboard. She tucks a leg beneath her and stretches the other out, propping the phone in her hand as she tries to find the right angle. The camera wobbles briefly, catching a soft laugh from her as she adjusts her grip.
"Hold on, let me just—" she murmurs, the phone tipping slightly in her hand as she gets comfortable. The camera dips in the process, momentarily filling the screen with a view of her chest, before it snaps back to her face, her hair slightly mussed now from where it brushed against the pillows.
She gives him an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Just trying to get comfortable," she says, dashing a hand through her hair to smooth it down. "How are you and Eden doing?"
Harvey remains silent, but Donna can see his jaw tightening through the video. She settles her back more firmly against the headboard as she studies him, the telltale flex of his muscles having her frowning slightly. He said Eden was fine, but something in his demeanor feels… off.
"Harvey?" she prompts, her tone softening, though her expression turns serious. "Everything else okay over there?"
He nods once, a sharp, clipped motion that doesn't do much to convince her. "Uh, yeah," he mutters, but the gruffness in his tone raises another red flag.
Donna's gaze narrows as her concern deepens. "That doesn't sound very convincing," she points out, her voice gentle but probing. She shifts her grip on the phone, leaning just a fraction closer to the screen, as though she could reach through it and pull the truth out of him if she tried hard enough.
On the other end, Harvey clears his throat, visibly gathering himself. "No, it's just…" He pauses, glancing down, as if searching for an answer. "I have a meeting today... with some people I can't stand," he finally says, his voice measured, though the slight edge to it doesn't escape her notice. "But Eden's doing well. I mean, apart from her newly developed fear of flying."
Donna's features soften instantly. "That might just be a phase," she offers, her voice tinged with empathy. She adjusts her position again, curling her legs beneath her and clutching the phone a little tighter. "Maybe she just needs a bit of time to process what happened before she feels safe flying again. It's not unusual, Harvey."
He watches her intently, nodding slowly as her words sink in. "I hope so," he murmurs, though his tone carries a weight she recognizes: a father's worry, unspoken but ever-present.
"Maybe it'll help if she knows you're taking her fears seriously. Let her see that it's okay to feel scared, that it's not something she has to hide from you."
"I'll try," he says, his voice sounding strained like a rope's tightening around his throat. "Anyway, I should probably leave you to it," Harvey says, the words tumbling out in a way that feels unlike him. His abruptness isn't lost on her, but she doesn't call him on it.
Instead, she smiles, opting to keep things light. "Alright, go shower," she says, her voice lilting with amusement as she waves him off. "And don't kill anyone later, okay?"
Her tone is easy, teasing—an olive branch in whatever strange tension has settled between them. She doesn't know what's wrong, why it seems he's already left the conversation, but something tells her to let it go. To give him space to figure out whatever it is he's wrestling with.
"Yeah, I'll… I'll see you soon," he says, his voice rough.
"Looking forward to it," she replies warmly, the sincerity in her voice softening the edges of the moment.
As the call ends, she sets the phone aside and throws her head back, closing her eyes. A slow exhale escapes her lips, and a soft smile creeps across her face. She still can't believe she's actually going on a date with him.
The butterflies in her stomach are relentless, and for once, Donna doesn't try to tamp them down. Instead, she allows herself to sit with it, to feel the anticipation coursing through her. She's always been good at staying composed, at masking what's swirling beneath the surface, but right now, there's no one here to see her guard slip.
She presses her fingers to her lips, as if trying to suppress the grin she knows won't go away anytime soon. She's not sure where this is going to lead, not entirely. But for the first time in a long time, she feels like she's standing on the edge of something real. And that's enough.
With one last glance at her phone, she grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest, her smile widening as her thoughts drift back to him. The date can't come soon enough.