Pure Feeling

fall in line

Harry had taken to sleeping in his office. The only time I'd seen him in the penthouse over the last five days was when the police came to ask me questions about Drew. They had plenty because they were trying to connect the dots for Gen's case. I answered everything, but I was conscious of the man sitting beside me whose fists clenched tighter and tighter with each response. Eventually, the police left, but with them, went Harry.

Gen was giving me space, and Nadia was tied up with William. I'd pushed everyone away, desperate for space. Now I had my space and all I felt was lonely and isolated.

There had been no contact with Drew, not even the police could find him for questioning, and it had me on edge. Harry hadn't left his office, but I hadn't left the security of his penthouse flat. I had the concierge take Gilligan out for bathroom breaks and had groceries delivered. I worked from home and turned Harry's formal sitting room into a makeshift office.

I was in emotional and physical limbo. The penthouse had become a space where I existed but did not live. I built a glass wall around myself so I could see my emotions but not feel them or deal with them. Every day I woke with renewed resolve to smash the glass but every day I failed myself and the ones I loved. I couldn't forgive, for I wouldn't process what I felt. I was trying to preserve myself; prevent the hurt and the pain and live in a space of numbness.

I knew I should deal with it all head-on. The problem was, I was too scared of coming to the conclusion that Harry and I were irrevocably broken.

The ding of the penthouse lift scared me back into the present and out of my swirling thoughts.

I scrambled to get up off the floor and see who it was. My heart thudded in my chest, my pulse racing at the possibility of seeing Harry.

"Sasha?"

The rush vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm in the sitting room, Olivia."

The clacking sound of Olivia's heels were a countdown to the Olivia Inquisition and Intervention. I'd been waiting for Harry's sister to make her appearance, put her two cents in, and urge Harry and me back into each other's arms. Olivia may have been protective of her brother, but she was fiercely protective of the relationship Harry and I shared. She was invested in our future, together and not apart.

"You look as miserable as Harry does," she declared. "I'm not sure why you're putting you both through this unnecessary pain. He's a wreck, you know. And a grumpy arse. He actually shouted at our mother this morning. That's how I knew something was desperately wrong."

I frowned. Harry wasn't much of a shouter. He got angry and upset but in that scary, quiet, and dominant way. Seeing him cry still haunted me, days after the fact. I squashed the urge to call him. I couldn't forgive Harry because he was hurting. It had to be real and it had to be honest forgiveness. I would only be setting us up to fail if I did anything less.

"Sash... What's going on?" Olivia plonked her bag down and collapsed onto the sofa amidst my spread of fabric samples. "I know Harry is prone to doing stupid things, but whatever it is can't be unforgivable."

I raised my brows. "He hasn't told you?"

"Nope. Which tells me he's really ashamed of whatever it is. You love each other, you'd be a fool not to see that. Don't give up on him or yourself. Please fight."

"I'm trying. I promise I am trying."

Olivia didn't buy it. She had scepticism written all over her face but she sighed and let it go. "Did you want to get a drink? We could go to the hotel bar across the road? Harry said you haven't been out in a few days."