P.S.

Harry and Olivia’s hands remained joined as he led her past the snow piles and up Canal Street. The snow was deep along the sidewalks, and Olivia had to take long strides to ensure she stepped into Harry’s prints. She could have done it without holding his hand. The only problem, she liked holding his hand.

“You doing all right back there?” Harry asked, his words difficult to hear over the sound of the wind. He turned around and laughed when he saw Olivia’s face. She had her chin tucked against her chest and the biggest scowl he’d ever seen across her face. She looked grumpy, cold and adorable. All Harry wanted to do was wrap her in his arms, warm her up and kiss her frosty face.

Olivia’s brow furrowed deeper. “I hate this,” she pouted. Her face was freezing, her legs like ice cubes, she was angry at herself for allowing Harry to hold her hand, and even more angry that she was enjoying it. She huffed out a loud sigh as she almost lost her footing. “Can’t you walk smaller?” she grumbled to Harry.

Harry laughed. Her attitude reminded him of their past. She had always been on the sassy side, but he found it endearing, not rude. “Like this?” he wondered, slowing his pace before he shuffled his feet through the snow. “Maybe wait here, and I’ll shuffle all the way home… then you’ll have a fancy Yellow Brick Road kind of path,” he teased, nudging Olivia’s arm.

Olivia looked up at Harry. She’d forgotten how he loved to tease her bad moods. He was smirking at her; unfazed by her attitude. “Okay,” Olivia agreed, stopping short. She was still scowling, but a tiny grin was forming on her lips.

Harry shook his head at Olivia. “Come on, you brat,” he told her, squeezing her hand. “We’re almost there,” he promised her. He was also freezing, and wanted to warm up, but he didn’t want the hand-holding to end. He wished they had to walk to New Jersey.

Olivia huffed out another sigh but began walking. Standing in the middle of the snowy sidewalk wouldn’t get them to Harry’s place any sooner — though, she’d have to stop holding his hand once she had no purpose in doing so any more, and she didn’t want to stop.

A few minutes later, Harry pointed down the street with his free hand. “That’s my building,” he told Olivia. He snickered at her, squeezing her hand again. “See, you made it!” he teased, her rosy cheeks killing him. His heart ached for her.

“Barely,” Olivia answered, but she matched Harry’s smile. “Guess you never saw me in the winter,” she commented. “I’m a fucking whiny baby when I’m cold.”

“Could have fooled me,” Harry kidded. It was true, but odd, that they hadn’t experienced one another for more than a few summer months. They had celebrated no birthdays or holidays together, they hadn’t reached a milestone month or an anniversary together, and yet, it felt as though he’d spent countless lifetimes with Olivia. He wondered if, after just a few months together years ago, his feelings were normal.

“We’ll get you warmed up in no time,” Harry promised Olivia as they climbed the stairs to the lobby door. His face flushed as he listened to his words. “I mean… I just mean because I have heat, yeah? Not…” He blew out a sigh. “You know what I mean.”

Olivia let out a soft laugh. “I do,” she assured him. She appreciated that he was respecting her relationship — despite the hand-holding, though it was for safety — and not planning on seducing her the moment they were alone. However, a small part of her wished he was.

The doorman opened the door and Harry and Olivia stepped inside, their hands remaining joined. Olivia wasn’t surprised, but she realised she would have to be the one to let go. With a quiet sigh, she dropped her hand from Harry’s and stuck her hands in her coat pockets, avoiding his eyes. She hoped he didn’t assume she was leading him on by allowing him to hold her hand. Then she laughed to herself. This was Harry. He would never think a thing like that.

Harry’s heart sank when she let go of his hand, but he had been expecting it. He wasn’t being as respectful to her relationship as he should be. He shouldn’t have been leaving it up to Olivia to put a stop to their fraternising — he should have stopped it before it turned into something to stop.

“Guess I got you here without you breaking a leg. My job here’s done,” Harry cracked, hoping to hide his disappointment at the disengagement with humour.

Olivia smiled at Harry. If she didn’t know better, she would say he sounded disappointed at the fact. But he had a model-actress-singer type at his beck and call. He couldn’t be disappointed.

“You did good,” Olivia answered with a chuckle. “Thank you,” she added, keeping her hands stuffed deep into her pockets as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Her stomach flip-flopped as the bell dinged. She was about to be alone with Harry in his apartment, and even with her intoxicated mind, she knew it was not a good idea.

Harry shrugged. “Course,” he answered, touching Olivia’s back to guide her into the elevator. Fuck. He needed to stop touching her.

“How long have you been here for?” Olivia wondered. She’d been to New York with Harry once while they were dating, but he’d had a different apartment. She wondered if he couldn’t stand being in his houses for the same reason she couldn’t stand hers. At least their relationship hadn’t ended in his homes.

“Uhm… I bought it like right after… Like three years, I guess,” Harry answered, correcting his original statement. He didn’t tell her who’d convinced him to buy a unit in the building. Olivia hated hearing that name.

Olivia nodded. She caught Harry’s slip-up but didn’t mention it. She understood. “Seems nice,” she said instead.

“I like it,” Harry answered, stepping out of the elevator as the doors opened on the fifth floor. He should have allowed Olivia to step out first, but he was also aware that he had no self control and would have touched her again. He tried to keep a step ahead of her as they walked down the hall towards his unit but walking in front of her made him seem more disrespectful than he did holding her hand, so he slowed his pace and fell into step beside Olivia.

“Here we are,” Harry said after a moment, stopping in front of his door. “Number five-oh-five, staying alive,” he quipped with a short chuckle. “Now you’ll never forget it,” he added, shaking his head at his words. “I mean, not that you’ll… Guess it doesn’t matter if you forget it, right?”

Olivia snickered. “Now I can send you postcards,” she told him. Harry seemed more uncomfortable with the course of events than she was. Maybe his relationship was more serious than she had assumed.

She stuck her hand across the door as Harry unlocked it, stopping him from entering. “Hey… can we just not be awkward anymore?” she asked him. “Yeah, this isn’t ideal… Your girl wouldn’t like this arrangement, and neither would… But… can we just…?” Olivia let out a quiet sigh. “Let’s just make hot chocolate and watch some old episodes of Full House and just…” be us again.

Harry wasn’t awkward because of his girl. He was awkward because all he could think about was kissing the once love of his life, who was now someone else’s love of their life. He wanted to respect Olivia’s relationship, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realised he was not over her, he’d never been over her, and he would never get over her. It killed him that she had.

But stating that would only exacerbate the awkwardness Olivia was pleading for them to rid. So instead, he nodded, offering her a sheepish grin. “Deal,” he agreed, pushing the door open further and gesturing for Olivia to enter.

She stepped into the apartment and unzipped her jacket as she looked past the foyer into Harry’s home. It was dark, but it was homey and smelled of vanilla and something floral. Harry appreciated home décor and wax melts more than any other man Olivia had ever met, but she wondered if this was his doing or if his still-nameless girlfriend had made her mark on his home.

“Smells good in here,” Olivia told him, laughing as she recalled the putrid scent wafting through Harry’s home in Los Angeles the first time he’d invited her over. He had tried — and failed — to cook her dinner. It had been such a thoughtful gesture, and one of the many reasons Olivia fell in love with Harry. She wondered if he cooked for his little girlfriend.

“What are you laughing for?” Harry wondered, watching Olivia remove her jacket and her scarf. He held his hand out to take her jacket from her. He could still pretend to be a gentleman.

Olivia giggled again, bending down to untie her boots. “Remember when you tried to make me chicken?” she asked him. “And you somehow managed to fuck it up?” She shook her head; the catastrophic fail still baffling to her. “It was pretty sweet, though…” she added in a quiet voice, smiling at the fond memory.

Harry hardly heard Olivia’s words. He hadn’t meant to look, but as Olivia leaned forward to remove her boots, he caught a glimpse of her ample cleavage under her shirt. As if he wasn’t having a hard enough time remaining focused, now he had her breasts in my mind.

“Sorry… what?” he asked after a moment, shaking his head as he tried to rid the image of her curves. His skin warmed under his collar, and he pulled off his jacket in a hurry, hoping to cool down. Fat chance.

Olivia shook her head, relieved he hadn’t heard her comment. “Nothing,” she assured him. She rubbed her hands together, still numb from the winter air, as Harry nodded towards the living room.

“Well… come on in,” he told her, leading the way. “Make yourself at ho — comfortable. Make yourself comfortable,” he corrected. “I uhm… do you want to take a shower? Reckon I might need one to warm — oh! Fuck, I mean… I have another bathroom! I didn’t mean… Like, I’ll take my own and you…” Harry groaned. He was failing in not being awkward. And now, he was picturing Olivia in the shower.

Olivia sighed. “You’re being awkward,” she pointed out. “I didn’t think you meant with you, so just… stop. But… no, thank you…” she added. As much as she wanted a hot shower, stripping down at her ex-boyfriend’s house was far more inappropriate than a little hand-holding.

“You go ahead, though,” she continued. “I’m going to snoop through your kitchen and find something to eat and drink, and if you don’t have Lucky Charms, I’m probably just going to leave,” she teased.

Harry grinned. “You know I do,” he replied. “But… you’re sure? I feel kind of bad abandoning you,” he admitted. And I want to spend every fucking second I can with you.

Olivia gave Harry a playful shove. “Get away from me and let me snoop,” she told him. She wasn’t actually going to snoop. She didn’t want to discover anything more about his girlfriend. In her opinion, she’d learned enough.

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed. “I’ll be ten minutes,” he promised before disappearing down the hallway.

Olivia watched him walk away before spinning in a slow circle, examining the room. Deciding she should reassure someone in her family she hadn’t ended up buried in a pile of snow, she sent a short text to Stephanie. She would face the wrath tomorrow. After turning the volume on her phone off, she wandered into the kitchen and began pawing through Harry’s cupboards. She grabbed the ever-present box of Lucky Charms and helped herself to a bowl, having no shame about pawing through her ex-boyfriend’s kitchen cupboards. She was about to retreat back to the living room when a box of wine on the counter caught her eye.

Olivia had to laugh. Harry had been of the understanding that boxed wine was nothing but rancid swill until she introduced him to it. He’d been a brat about it, insisting it tasted like stale plastic until Olivia had tricked him by filling an old wine bottle with the boxed wine. When he didn’t make a fuss about it, Olivia declared herself the winner, and took great pleasure in pointing it out to him every chance she had. Tonight would be another chance.

Olivia decided wine and Lucky Charms would go fine together and found glasses, pouring herself and Harry a drink. She carefully carried the dishes into the living room and set the wine on the coffee table. She took a bite of cereal as she perused Harry’s eclectic record collection. It tickled her to see a separate collection off to the side — his records, his bandmate’s records and each of the records he released with One Direction.

Despite not knowing any of the band’s songs when she met Harry, Olivia had quickly become their biggest fan. She listened to nothing else during their relationship — in the car, in the tub, while cooking dinner… it was always One Direction. Harry had teased her for becoming such a Directioner, but he appreciated it. Olivia had a hard time hearing their songs now, but since the entire evening had been nostalgic, she wanted to keep it going.

Olivia set her cereal bowl on the table before selecting one of the albums from the shelf. She lifted the lid off of the record player and hoped she remembered how to work one. She moved the needle and grinned when her favourite song began playing through the speakers.

Harry had tried to shower as fast as possible. He didn’t care if Olivia snooped through his apartment — he knew she wouldn’t — but he ached to see her. He also ached to do something else, but he couldn’t bring himself to pleasure himself with Olivia in the other room. The shower water was barely lukewarm, but he was still hot all over. At least Olivia decided to not shower. She always looked so cute with damp hair and a fresh face. Who was he kidding? She was cute — beautiful — all the time.

Harry emerged from the bedroom, stopping short as he listened to the familiar music coming from the living room. He shook his head to himself.

“Why’s this one your favourite?” he called out over the music.

Olivia whirled around, grinning at Harry as she sang in response. “Oh, oh, ohh, oh! Cause it’s a stand up!” She laughed, her stomach tumbling as a damp-haired Harry joined her at the stereo. She wished he wasn’t so handsome. Olivia took a couple of dancing steps towards the coffee table, ignoring her stomach. She picked up a glass of wine and handed it to Harry.

“Tastes like stale plastic,” she teased him, taking a sip from her own glass as she smirked at Harry.

He shook his head at her. “Oh, fuck off,” he sighed. “I knew you filled that bottle. I was just being the nice guy and letting you think you were right,” he added, his eyes sparkling as he fibbed.

Olivia snorted. “Oh, please!” she laughed. “You live for being right!” This was better. This wasn’t awkward. Olivia was almost giddy.

Harry shrugged. “I’m just… I’m right so often, so…” He trailed off as he offered Olivia a wide smirk. “But seriously…” he continued, holding his hands out questioningly. “This song is awful. Why do you even like it? We had one or two that were a bit better…”

“It’s cute and fun!” Olivia protested. “And you were awfully adorable as a sixteen-year-old…” she added shyly, looking down at the floor. She rolled her eyes at herself. What a silly thing to be bashful about.

Harry smiled, letting out a quiet chuckle. Before he was able to stop himself, he reached out and gently grasped Olivia’s chin. He nudged her face upwards, urging her to look at him. Olivia’s chocolate brown eyes widened as she stared at Harry.

“I think you’re adorable now, Liv. I think you’re beautiful,” he told her in a low voice. Time stopped moving between the two of them as they stared into one another’s eyes, a silent conversation between them. Neither knew what to say, what to do — but they both knew what they wanted to do.

Olivia had to remind herself to breathe. Harry’s gaze was penetrating her soul, her mind, her entirety. He’d never released his hold on her, and she would never allow him to. His aura was an elixir. Everything she was, everything she would become would be because of him. She was foolish to think she would ever have a life that wasn’t Harry.

But she’d made a promise to a man, and that man wasn’t Harry. She had been full of more love for Harry than she ever believed possible, and while that love hadn’t vanished completely — it never would — her heart now belonged to someone else.

“Harry…” Olivia managed to croak out, her gaze dropping. “I can’t do this…”

Harry hadn’t realised how close his lips had been to Olivia’s until she spoke, and he felt her breath. He pulled back from her, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed out. “That… I… I’m so sorry,” he repeated. He’d crossed a line.

Olivia shook her head, dismissing his comment. “I think I need to go to bed,” she whispered. “It’s okay,” she assured Harry, “but…” if I don’t leave you now, I’m not going to.

Harry nodded, his stomach dropping with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he told her again, not knowing what else to say. His head dropped shamefully as he gestured towards the hallway. “It’s the first door,” he murmured. He was having a hard time keeping it together, and he hoped Olivia wouldn’t see him crack.

“Thanks…” Olivia told Harry, hesitating for a moment. So much for avoiding awkwardness. “It’s okay,” she assured him again. Harry looked distraught, breaking Olivia’s heart. “I’ll… see you…” she told him before turning down the hall, unsure if she would be able to face Harry in the morning, or if she would make a break for home at the crack of dawn.

Harry bit his lip as Olivia disappeared, his words remaining silent until the last moment. “Why him?” he called out, against his better judgement. The sound of Olivia’s steps stopped. “Why him, Liv?”

Olivia stopped. She’d been expecting the question all night, but she still didn’t have an answer for Harry. “Harry…” she began, leaning against the wall, out of his sight. “Don’t…”

Her answer didn’t placate him, but he should have let it go. Instead, he pressed on. “No, tell me! You moved for him, you quit your job for him… So, why? You wouldn’t do that for me. Why him?”

Olivia huffed out a sigh. “Why him, Harry?” she repeated. “What about her? Why her?”

Harry rolled his eyes though Olivia couldn’t see. “Hailey and I are different than…”

“I’m not talking about Hailey!” Olivia retorted. Great, now she had a name. “I’m talking about…” She trailed off, pressing her palms against her eyes. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about that.”

Harry was quiet. He wanted to tell Olivia how much he regretted those months after their breakup, how he was aware it would kill Olivia seeing Harry with that girl, but he did it anyway. No. He didn’t want to say that. Olivia, too, was quiet in the hall. Harry wasn’t sure if she even still stood within earshot, but he called out to her.

“You told me you’d never love anyone the way you loved me,” he reminded her. He wanted to see her face. He forced his next question through the steel wall in front of him. “Do you love him more than you loved me?”

Olivia huffed out a sigh, stomping back into the living room. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Can’t you just accept tonight as a fucking shoot-the-shit catch up and leave it at that? Why do you have to get all… Harry on me?”

He ignored her question. “Do you?” Harry pressed. He did not understand why he wanted her to tell him something that he didn’t want to hear. Of course she loved Ben more than she loved Harry. She made a life with him, not Harry. He was only embarrassing himself with his questions, but he needed her answer.

Olivia shook her head at him. “Fuck… Harry, I…” She blew out a shaky breath. “I… can’t tell you that…”

“Why not?”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “Because… you know when I’m lying, and… I’m with him now, and… not supposed to tell you the truth…” she confessed to him, keeping her eyes on the ground. “It’s always been you, Harry… but it just can’t be anymore…”

With her simple statement, Harry realised she’d just confessed to loving Harry more than she loved her fiancé. Her admission should have left him elated, but it left Olivia distraught, evidenced by the pained expression on her face. Rather than elation, Harry felt disgusted that he’d put Olivia in such a predicament.

“I’m sorry…” Harry finally mumbled. It was weak, but anything he would say at this point would be.

Olivia turned from Harry. Her confession couldn’t mean anything, not now. “Why didn’t you just call me after everything? Why did you let me go so easily?” Olivia wondered, her words almost inaudible. “You fell in with her, and you forgot about me, and… now it’s too late…”

Harry sat up straighter, staring at Olivia’s back. “I never forgot about you,” he told her. There was so much more he could say in response to her question, but he needed her to know that he’d never forgotten about her, and he never would.

Olivia turned, meeting Harry’s eyes for a brief moment. “Ditto…” she told him, shrugging with remorse. With a final sigh, she turned towards the bedroom. She had so much to say, so many words he needed to hear, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. “Goodnight, Harry,” she simply stated instead.

“Goodnight, Liv,” Harry echoed. What else could he say?

Notes