P.S.

Harry hadn’t been exaggerating when he stated the pub was right up Olivia’s alley. It was long and narrow, with mismatched tables scattered under dusty, dim lights. Eclectic décor filled the walls, and there was no distinguishable theme followed while decorating. Even though the sign on the door stated it was a smoke free establishment, a light smell of tobacco wafted through the bar. A trio of men sat at the bar, dressed head to toe in leather biker gear, but appearing to be well into their fifties. Their appearance wasn’t consistent with the usual granola crunching, yoga-loving hippies of Tribeca, but it worked in the bar.

“Come on,” Harry said to Olivia, leading her past the long bar to a narrow staircase tucked in front of the washrooms. He had been hoping the bar was busier, so their venture upstairs made more sense, but walking past the handful of vacant tables to sit alone with his ex-girlfriend in a stuffy little alcove seemed silly. But, the thought of being alone with Olivia was exhilarating.

Olivia climbed the stairs behind Harry, ensuring she kept her eyes on the steps and not on his assets in front of her. She was ill at ease as they made their way to the alcove, but excitedly, as though they were on a first date and the prospect of what the night could bring was both thrilling and terrifying.

Olivia shook her head, trying to rid the thought from her mind. She’d reminded herself countless times over the past days that it wasn’t a date, and yet her mind didn’t want to believe her. Still, she would be lying if she said she felt nothing. Being in Harry’s presence brought on a myriad of thoughts and feelings, emotions she tried so hard to ignore. But she wouldn’t be acting on them… she was almost certain.

“Where’s your pocket knife?” Olivia questioned, indicating to the carved table. Harry grinned at her comment, and his dimpled smile caused her stomach to tumble. She closed her eyes for an unnoticeable moment before sitting down across from Harry.

“That’s a bit of a manly accessory for me,” Harry teased, watching as Olivia pulled off her scarf. She shook out her hair and he couldn’t help but stare. She was so beautiful.

Olivia set her scarf on the chair beside her, nodding in agreement. “It is,” she kidded. “Until Gucci starts a line of pocket knives, any way,” she added, giggling at her own joke.

“Hey!” Harry protested with a laugh. “You’re… probably right, though,” he added, his words coming out slowly as Olivia removed her mittens. The light above their table captured the gleam of the small diamond on her left hand as though it was a spotlight. Harry’s stomach fell, knotting and twisting nauseatingly. It wasn’t just a boyfriend; it was a promise. This man had done what Harry should have done, and Harry hated him for it.

“What?” Olivia questioned, noticing a curious look on Harry’s face. She was unaware he was staring at her accessorised hand.

Harry opened his mouth, about to speak, when the bartender from downstairs approached their table. The interruption was a relief, but he would have to ask about her fiancé, eventually. Harry Styles was a glutton for punishment, he supposed.

“What’ll it be, boys?” the bartender wondered, sounding bored.

“Uhm… Gin and soda, please,” Olivia answered, glancing at Harry.

He laughed. “We’re in an Irish pub,” he teased her, lightly kicking her foot under the table before reminding himself to not do that again. “I reckon, anyway. You should get Guinness. Or whiskey!”

Olivia rolled her eyes at Harry. “You can get Guinness or whiskey,” she reminded him. Her stomach fluttered at his gentle touch. The moment felt like years before.

Harry made a face. “I thought we talked about how manly I am not,” he told her, smirking. He wondered how manly Olivia’s man was. He was probably a burly farmer or mechanic, the kind of man that could disappear into the mountains with a Q-Tip and a paper clip and build a shopping mall. Harry let out a quiet sigh. He couldn’t even find Q-Tips the last time he’d been in Target.

“But, anyway… I’ll get a tequila,” Harry said after a moment’s pause. “And we’ll get, like… a plate of wings, and onion rings and…” Fuck it. “… bring us up four Three Wise Men shots, too,” he told the bartender, inciting an incredulous yelp from Olivia.

“Harry!” she protested. She wondered if she needed to remind him she wasn’t a twenty-year-old college student, and shots and she did not get along. “Come on… I can’t do shots!”

Harry laughed at her theatrics. “Sure you can,” he told her. “You’ll like them, they’re sweet,” he added, fibbing to appease Olivia.

The bartender laughed, exposing Harry’s lie. “Y’all are cute,” she commented before heading back down the stairs.

Jeez… like taking a bullet, Harry thought to himself. He smirked at Olivia, toying with the paper coaster in front of him. He didn’t want to hear about her fiancé, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Harry gestured to Olivia’s hand. “What’s his name?”

Olivia followed Harry’s gaze to her hand. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she didn’t know why. She and Harry hadn’t been together for years. She was allowed to be in a relationship with someone other than him. Still, for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt as though she was cheating on Harry.

“Ben,” Olivia answered after a pause. She kept her head down, fiddling with her ring and avoiding Harry’s eyes. She didn’t want to look at him and see what his reaction to her engagement would be. Happy or sad, Olivia wasn’t sure what reaction she would rather see.

Harry cocked his head, trying to see Olivia’s eyes. “He’s a good guy?” he questioned. If he wasn’t, Harry was certain he would kill him.

Olivia looked at Harry, meeting his eyes. She couldn’t read his expression, and it bothered her. “He is…” she assured Harry. Despite her present company, the mention of her fiancé brought a small smile to her face. “I think you’d like him,” Olivia added with sincerity.

Harry held back a snicker. Not bloody likely, he thought, but he held the words back, too. “You’re happy?” he asked instead. He didn’t want to watch her face, but he had to hear her truth.

Olivia’s smile grew, and she offered Harry a light nod. “I am,” she told him, her words her honest truth. She couldn’t deny the emotions she felt seeing Harry, but she also couldn’t deny how happy Ben made her either.

Harry matched Olivia’s smile, though a hint of sadness appeared behind his eyes. “Good,” he affirmed. “Happiness is important. That’s all I want for you, Liv,” he told her with a shrug.

Olivia beamed. Harry was taking the news of her engagement better than she would have taken the news of his. “Same for me, for you,” she told him as the bartender approached the table with a tray full of drinks. Olivia waited until she left again before voicing her question.

“What about you?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink. In typical dive bar fashion, the drink was strong.

“What about me?” Harry countered cheekily. “Shouldn’t we have cheered something, also?” he wondered, holding his drink up in thought. The first name that popped into his mind was Ben, but Harry refused to cheer to Olivia’s fiancé.

“Sorry, I was thirsty,” Olivia laughed. The only thing thought she had was to cheers themselves, but it would be inappropriate to cheers their past relationship moments after announcing her engagement. Instead, she lifted her glass to meet Harry’s and said, “cheers to… that little coffee shop we were at, which actually does have a pretty decent peppermint coffee.”

Harry laughed, touching his glass against hers. “Cheers to that,” he agreed before taking a sip. He was doing an okay job at avoiding her question, but he knew Olivia. She wouldn’t forget.

Olivia tapped her fingers against the table. “Well?” she urged, desperate to discover his relationship status. “What about you? And you know what I mean,” she added. “Do you… have a girlfriend?” The word left a terrible taste on her tongue.

Harry took another sip, larger this time, as he replayed Olivia’s question in his mind. He didn’t want to answer her. He set his drink down before picking up the coaster, flicking it against the table.

“I do,” he finally answered. It was uncomfortable telling Olivia his relationship status. They hadn’t been together in so long – and she was engaged – but he felt as though he was confessing to fooling around on her. “I mean… I guess…” he answered as a second thought.

Olivia furrowed her brow, ignoring her devastation at Harry’s words. “What do you mean, you guess?” she repeated, taking a drink. “You either do or you don’t,” she pointed out, letting out a forced chuckle. She hated this girl already.

Harry shrugged. This was awkward. “I mean, well… I don’t see her that often…” he told Olivia. “She’s in LA and I…” don’t go there very much, because that house only reminds me of you “… I’m here most of the time, so…” He trailed off, shrugging again. “See her when she’s here.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair, studying Harry’s face. She wasn’t sure what to make of his declaration. She was all too aware that he was a private person, but he was romantic and passionate, and while he might have kept Olivia’s identity a secret when they were together, he wouldn’t have spoken about her in such a blasé manner in private. This girl couldn’t have been special to Harry. The realisation pleased Olivia.

“So… you basically just fuck her when she’s in town?” Olivia pondered, the words coming out more biting than joking, as intended. She replayed the sentence in her mind and made a face as she envisioned Harry’s reply. “Don’t answer that,” she added, shaking her head as she took another drink.

Harry let out a surprised chuckle. “Jeez…” he commented, a smirk playing on his lips. “You always did have a way with words,” he told Olivia. He shrugged again, tearing pieces off the coaster. “It’s… not like that…” he told her, exhaling loudly. “It’s…” He didn’t know how to explain his relationship to Olivia, when he didn’t understand it himself. She was a fine girl. They had fun when they were together, and he did like her. But… she wasn’t Olivia. He couldn’t say that though. Not with Olivia’s sparkling hand and happy life. He had to make his life sound as great as hers did, even if it was a lie.

“Our lives are just busy,” said Harry. “You can understand that,” he added. Of course she did. The biggest reason for the demise of Harry and Olivia was his busy life.

Olivia nodded. “I know,” she replied. Lord, did she know. “As long as you’re happy,” she added, plastering a bright smile on her face. She didn’t want Harry to be anything but happy, but she wished he wasn’t happy with a young, leggy blonde.

“I am…” Harry assured Olivia, forcing a smile. He’d won awards, he could convince his ex-girlfriend of his happiness. “Anyway…” he stated, desperate for a topic change. “How’s work going?” He sighed to himself. This was the woman he once believed he would marry, and he was talking about work? How the times had changed.

“Oh… it’s good, I guess…” Olivia answered. “I don’t really work as much anymore, though…” She trailed off, meeting Harry’s confused eyes. “I, uhm… we moved down to the coast. So… I’m subbing, but I only really get a couple calls a week…”

Harry nearly fell off his chair. “You… moved?” he asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. He’d tried so hard to get Olivia to move with him, and she refused. It wasn’t an option in her mind. He had accepted her stance and would have done anything to make it work with her, despite her refusal to leave her home or her career. But now, King Burly Ben swoops in, steals Harry’s girl and forces her to move with him. Harry loathed him.

Olivia shifted uncomfortably. She knew telling Harry she’d moved would be a soft spot for him. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged, hoping she appeared nonchalant. “I mean… yeah, but it’s just a couple hours away,” she answered. “He’s a police officer, so… he can get transferred around…”

Jesus Christ. A police officer. Of course he was. Officer King Burly Ben was winning every round. Harry pursed his lips together, but he decided to let this one go. He reminded himself that there was a lot more wrong in his and Olivia’s relationship than just their distance – though, on the spot, with her pretty face in front of him, he couldn’t think of a thing.

“Well… I reckon change is as good as the rest, yeah?” Harry stated, shrugging again. He nudged one of the shots towards Olivia. “Come on…” he urged, offering her a dimpled smile. “I know you can down a shot like a champ!”

Olivia laughed, pulling the shot closer to her. She didn’t want to do it, but she wanted to rid the tension in the air. Alcohol was a good way to do so. “Well… I guess if you’re peer pressuring me…” she told him, dragging her finger along the top of the glass.

Harry laughed. “I am,” he answered. He wanted to get drunk and giggly with Olivia and move past the awkward portion of the evening. He lifted his glass, pointing a finger at Olivia. “No whiskey faces allowed,” he warned her, his eyes twinkling. She never made a face after a shot. He, on the other hand…

Olivia rolled her eyes. Harry always resembled someone who’d drank a bottle of Lysol whenever he did a shot. “Oh, I’ll try!” Olivia teased. She held up her glass and looked at Harry. “To…?”

“Us,” Harry said simply, downing the shot in a hurry. It was what he wanted to say, anyway.

~*~*~*~

“Stop laughing and pay attention!”

Olivia braced her hands on her knees, ducking her head as she laughed. “I’m sorry!” she gasped, struggling to get the words out between giggles. She looked up at Harry, who was standing beside the table, hands firmly placed on his hips and a scowl on his face, and she cracked up again. “You’re just such an idiot!”

Harry rolled his eyes, kicking the leg of Olivia’s chair. “No!” he protested. “You’re a terrible listener!” Her laugh was contagious though, and he chuckled in spite of himself. He grasped Olivia by the shoulders and gave her a light shake. The few drinks they’d shared, and the few more shots they’d downed, had loosened Harry’s inhibitions and he found himself caring less and less about Officer King Perfect Burly Man Ben.

“I just want to show you a magic trick,” Harry murmured in a whiny tone, jutting his lip out in a dramatic pout. It wasn’t a great magic trick, but it was the only one he knew. And he loved making Olivia laugh.

Olivia looked up at Harry. Her breath hitched in her throat – he was so close to her. The two of them had moved past the awkwardness of the start of the evening – Harry’s bad idea shots and turned into a good idea – and the conversation was toeing the line of flirtatious. First, he touched her foot under the table. Then she carefully examined a new scar on his wrist. Then he brushed away a piece of her hair that had gotten stuck on her lips. With every touch, Olivia’s heart raced and broke at the same time. Her sister was right – she was playing with fire… but she loved the burn.

“I already know how you do it,” Olivia told Harry, breaking eye contact as she laughed again. “You let the fake coin fall from your hands!” She looked up at Harry again, whose hands were still on her shoulders. “Such a dork!”

Harry sighed. “You’re so mean,” he told her, shaking his head. He laughed again as he caught Olivia’s eyes. Her crinkled smile was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. As though he was out of his own body, he moved a hand from Olivia’s shoulder and let his fingers tangle through the ends of her hair.

It was only for a moment but it seemed as though they stared at one another for an eternity, his fingers knotted in her soft hair and neither making a motion to move. Finally, Harry snapped out of his trance and yanked his hand away.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t. Despite not knowing Ben, he didn’t like him, but he didn’t have to be disrespectful to Olivia’s relationship. He couldn’t help it. She was like a magnet to him.

“It’s okay,” Olivia whispered back. Guilt consumed her – it wasn’t okay, but it was okay.

Harry took a step back, casting a gaze to the table. They’d ate enough, they’d drank enough, but he didn’t want to say goodbye to her. He let out a quiet sigh. He would have to. She wasn’t his anymore.

“Well…” Harry began, cutting himself off as he heard loud footsteps on the stairs behind them. The bartender stopped short as she saw Harry and Olivia, her mouth dropping open.

“You’re still here!” she yelped.

Olivia furrowed her brow. “You brought us a drink twenty minutes ago,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

The bartender snickered. “No… over an hour ago,” she corrected.

Harry let out a high-pitched giggle. “Oops,” he laughed, catching Olivia’s eyes. She echoed his laughter – the situation not hilarious, but funny enough to the two inebriated exes.

“Haven’t you looked outside? It’s practically a blizzard!” The bartender continued, rolling her eyes as she gathered up the last of the glasses. “The streets are closed, the city is shutting down as we speak!”

Harry and Olivia glanced at each other before bolting in unison to the window. The tiny peephole was grimy, and half covered by a neon sign outside, but through the light they saw the massive flakes blanketing the city below.

“Oh, shit… let’s go make snow angels!” Harry quipped, still giggling. The snow wasn’t concerning to him; he had a driver.

The bartender let out a loud groan. “No, you need to go home,” she reminded them. “Do you live close? You can walk if you take a main artery. The side roads are going to be a fucking mess.”

Harry scoffed. “I have a driver,” he told her, the words not intending to sound as haughty as they did. “I mean… Like, I have to call him… and pay him… But he’s not a taxi. His name is Sebastian, but I call him Bass.”

The bartender shook her head and gestured to the window. “Do you see any taxis out there, sweetheart?” she asked him with a roll of her eyes. “Unless your friend Bass drives a helicopter, you’re fucking walking.”

“He doesn’t,” Harry answered with a sigh. “Okay, well, here,” he added, taking his credit card from his wallet and handing it to the bartender. She still had the portable machine tucked into her apron, so she quickly rang up the bill as Olivia and Harry pulled on their winter garments.

Olivia peered out the window again. The snow wasn’t wasting any time piling up. She didn’t know exactly how far they were from her sister’s Midtown apartment building, but the drive over took twenty minutes. She couldn’t walk that far sober, let alone now.

“Get out of here, now,” the bartender advised. “And thanks for coming in,” she added as an after thought before disappearing down the stairs.

Harry gestured to the stairs. “Come on,” he told Olivia, leading the way. Olivia followed him, but she didn’t know how long she would follow him for. He lived nearby, but was he expecting she would join him for the night? There had been flirtatious moments throughout the night, but the Harry Olivia knew would never make a move on a taken woman. Would he? Would she?

“Holy shit!” Harry exclaimed as they walked out of the pub. The heavy snow was so thick, Harry had difficulties seeing the building across the street. The wind was howling, blowing the flakes sideways and causing massive snowdrifts to build up along the sidewalk.

Olivia tightened her scarf around her neck, trying to prevent too much snow from falling under her jacket. There was no way Sebastian could pick them up. The streets and sidewalks hadn’t seen a plough. “Harry…” Olivia began, her voice muffled by her scarf. “What am I supposed to do?”
Harry turned to face Olivia, ducking his head against the snow. “Walk this way,” he directed, taking a step around her towards 6th Avenue.

Olivia didn’t budge. “And go where?” she pressed. “Back to your place? Come on.”

Harry sighed. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked her. “You can’t walk all the way back to Hell’s Kitchen, Liv,” he pointed out. “It’s not a big deal. Just come on,” he urged her. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go.” He reached out and took Olivia by the hand – ensuring he took the right hand, to not feel her ring under her gloves. He would never want Olivia to be uncomfortable, but the selfish part of him thanked the blizzard with all of his heart.

Olivia sighed. She was not behaving like an engaged woman should. She trusted Harry, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself. But, he was right. She couldn’t walk back to Stephanie’s building. So with another sigh – and an exciting jolt in her stomach she pushed aside – she nodded.

“Okay.”

Notes