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When the Best Man finds the Matron of Honor in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, it doesn’t have to mean anything. The Best Man and the Matron of Honor are married themselves, and she looks beautiful in a wine colored gown, and why wouldn’t he want to see her?
But that’s not why Mike texted Rachel to meet. It’s not why he’s approaching her now, tension flashing behind his eyes. When he says “we’ve got a problem,” it’s obvious, but he says it anyway. Her eyes flash with concern, but close with a sigh as she hears the problem. She has to tell the bride there will be a delay, but not to worry, everything will be fine. The groom just needs a minute. He just needs time.
When he woke up this morning, Harvey Specter didn’t plan to cause any problems for his Best Man to solve. He planned to have a big catered breakfast with his groomsmen, take a bunch of staged “getting ready” pictures, and stand at the end of an aisle while he waited for the love of his life to make her grand entrance. It was a solid plan, and Harvey expected all of his plans to succeed. For most of the morning, they did.
As he watched the clock in the hotel suite tick through the morning, all Harvey could think about was how he couldn’t believe that Donna wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She was Donna, and she chose him. He might have a rough history, or nearly nonexistent history, of maintaining serious relationships, but that had changed with Donna. He was going to make it work.
He gave his best casual, not-aware-of-the-camera candid smile as the wedding photographer snapped pictures of him buttoning his dress shirt. He stood where the photographer suggested, throwing his arm around one groomsman or the other for a series of pictures that would be nice to look back on some day, when he and Donna were old and he was managing partner at Specter Ross. Hey, crazier things had happened. Everything was going just as expected when Marcus started handing out glasses of Mccallan 25 for a toast right before they were set to leave the room and head for the aisle.
“To Harvey,” Marcus said, grinning. Mike and Louis raised their glasses in expectation, sitting on cushy chairs in the Plaza Hotel’s penthouse suite. “Here’s hoping you have a better go of it than Mom and Dad.”
Harvey saw Mike’s expression tighten slightly. Louis laughed like he was happy to be on the inside of the joke. Harvey sucked in a breath, keeping an outward appearance of calm.
“Alright Marcus,” he said, raising his glass good-naturedly and taking a sip.
It was just a joke. Harvey wasn’t some delicate little girl who was going to freak out about a joke. He took a deep breath. He was not his father, and Donna was not his mother. But it wasn’t like Marcus was the first person to put that into Harvey’s head. Harvey had been thinking of it all this week, for months even. Every so often it would pop into his head, a grating little thought wondering just what made him think he was so practiced at love that he would be able to succeed where his father had failed? No, Harvey had already considered potential truth behind the subject of Marcus’s little joke and he’d come up stronger, more sure of himself. He knew Donna. This was different. This was real.
Thud. Thud. Thud. His heart was beating harder. He swallowed like it had risen up into his throat and he might manage to keep it down. Thud. Thud. Thud. Harvey stood up from his chair in an attempt to leave the room and make his way to his wedding. He was past letting panic attacks beat him. Instead, he fell back against the white leather of the chair, dropping his glass on the marble coffee table in front of him with a jolting clatter. His hands felt numb, disconnected from his body. Thud.Thud.Thud.
Harvey’s father hadn’t had a clue about his mother. All those years he’d thought they were happy, even when his own son saw how he was being made to be a fool. Until one day that son had to tear apart his own family by telling the truth.
“Harvey?” Louis asked, putting his empty glass on the table and staring at Harvey with concern. Mike’s head snapped towards them. “Are you alright?”
Harvey shook his head, meaning to say he was fine but instead responding with a small gasp. Not right now. This wasn’t happening. He was not going to have a panic attack right before his wedding. Donna would wonder where he was. If he didn’t show up, maybe she’d leave. She should leave. What would she want with him anyway? She deserved someone who wasn’t weak.
He grabbed at the tie at his throat, pulling it away from where it must have been crushing his windpipe. That would have to explain why he couldn’t breathe. His stomach turned and a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
Thud.Thud.Thud.
The Matron of Honor finds the bride back in front of the bedroom mirror of the bridal suite, right where she left her. Wearing an a-line gown with a solid ivory bodice and her hair swept up with pearl pins in a half-up style, the bride exudes an elegant beauty that will take away the breath of her wedding guests. When they’re finally able to see her. When the groom is ready to see her.
“Donna,” Rachel says, her heels clicking on the smooth linoleum floor of the suite. She tries to make her voice sound calm and confident, as if she has any of this under control. But she doesn’t. This is Donna’s big day, and hearing that Harvey is having a panic attack right before he’s supposed to meet her at the aisle is not going to improve that day.
“What’s up?” Donna says, holding her hair up as her sister clasps a pearl necklace around her neck. She grins. “Did you come here to tell me how blown away Harvey is gonna be when he sees me like this? Because I know. But you can tell me anyway.”
“Come over here and sit down with me,” Rachel says, sitting on the perfectly made bed and waiting. Donna blinks at her in the mirror, absently touching the back of her necklace as if to check that her sister attached it correctly.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she says, coming to stand in front of Rachel.
Harvey shot out of the chair he had just fallen into, stumbling on shaky legs towards the bathroom. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he gagged, shoving a concerned Mike out of his way.
“Harvey!” Mike said, wisely staying out of the way.
Harvey ignored him, staggering through the now blurry suite and falling to his knees in front of the toilet, the cold of the tiles seeping through his slacks. He was dimly aware of the conversation going on behind him between retches.
“Whoa, how much has he had to drink?” Marcus asked, concern clearly coming through his attempt at humor. Louis and Mike let the question sit in the air.
“I’m going to see Rachel,” Mike finally said. “She can stall Donna until he calms- until he feels better.”
Harvey felt like shit, but he was aware enough to notice that Mike had stopped himself from saying “until he calms down,” which he appreciated. It didn’t matter though. Stalling Donna was a bad idea. First of all, she was going to know if something was up. She was Donna. More to the point, though, if they stalled her it would just be worse when he finally told her the truth. The truth that the man she was about to marry was useless and weak, and she deserved better than that. Today of all days he was supposed to keep it together and he couldn’t do that. Maybe marriage wasn’t for everyone. That was fine.
“Mike, wait,” Harvey muttered, blinking against the tears that had formed in his eyes. They were just from the force of vomiting, he told himself. The sinking in his stomach at the thought of telling Donna he couldn’t do this had nothing to do with it. He tried to look a little less beaten, to sit up a little straighter, but he ruined the effect by spitting into the toilet he was still kneeling next to. “Don’t tell Donna it’ll be fine. Tell her I’m not coming. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t a big deal,” Mike said, shaking his head. “You just need a minute and you’ll be ready to get out there. Let me just tell Rachel-“
“Damn it, Mike, just do it!” Harvey tried to shout, but it came out a little choked around the bile in his throat.
Mike closed his eyes with a long-suffering look, but he turned and left.
Harvey watched Louis stare wide-eyed at Mike’s retreating back, but glanced away when Louis turned his gaze on him.
“Don’t you dare do this to her,” Louis said, something like disgust creeping into his voice. “She could have anyone in the world, she deserves everything in the world, and she wants you. So you’re gonna give her what she wants. Get up, Harvey. Stop acting like a little girl.”
Harvey’s face heated, and he clenched his fist at his side. Whether or not he agreed with Louis was irrelevant. He wasn’t about to sit here and let Louis Litt tell him how to treat Donna.
“I’m warning you, Louis. I’m really not in the mood.”
Harvey noticed when Louis’s eyes darted to the side like he was considering making a break for it, but then they flashed with self-righteous anger and he stepped right up to Harvey, towering over him.
“Grow up, clean yourself up, and go marry that magnificent woman.”
Louis had some nerve. Yes, Donna deserved the world. That was the reason Harvey was sitting on the bathroom floor right now instead of getting married. He wasn’t good enough for her. He didn’t need Louis or anyone else to tell him that. And where did Louis get off acting like he’d never been a coward before? Louis invented being a coward! Rage welled up inside Harvey until he was going to explode with it, until he wanted to tackle Louis and beat the shit out of him.
Instead, he threw up on Louis’s shoes.
The Matron of Honor has done her best. She’s calmly expressed to the bride that the groom is a little delayed, a slight wardrobe malfunction, but that he’ll be ready to pledge his life to her surrounded by family and friends and piles of flowers that cost thousands of dollars.
“I’m going to see him,” Donna says as she walks away, deflating any sense of relief or self-congratulation that Rachel is experiencing. She lifts her skirt slightly as she slips her feet into a pair of silver heels sitting in front of the bedroom door. Rachel stands up. This wasn’t the plan. This might be her first time being a Matron of Honor but she knows the bride isn’t supposed to see the groom in the state Harvey’s in right now.
“Donna, he just has a stain on his shirt.”
Donna turns around and scoffs, like she can’t believe Rachel would even insult her with a ridiculous story like that when she knows everything. Even though she knows it’s futile, Rachel feels like she has to try to stop Donna anyway. Harvey is going to get over this, he just needs a little time. He’s stuck in a whirlpool of pre-wedding jitters and self-pity that he’ll move past.
“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” she says lamely, tempted to roll her eyes at herself. She’s surprised when Donna even turns around and responds. She was expecting nothing more than another scoff.
“I don’t need luck. He’s already mine.”
Donna sashays out of the room, her skirt swishing against the floor.
The groom has his arm resting on the toilet seat and his head resting on his arm. His jacket is discarded under the sink, where he attempted to fold it carefully. One groomsman is watching TV on the couch, not getting involved in whatever drama has befallen his brother. Another groomsman is rinsing off his leather shoes in the shower, shrieking about how much money they cost and how they’re garbage now. You can’t clean leather shoes in the shower.
Harvey’s eyes are burning with tears and he doesn’t even care. No one can see his face. It’s against the toilet. He can’t believe this is happening to him. He’s calming down now, but his body feels exhausted and he’s shivering slightly. Louis was right to be disgusted. He wants to stand up and get himself together, but what’s the point? Mike will already have told Donna the whole thing is off.
“Harvey?” His heart jumps when he hears her voice, just before his stomach drops. She can’t see him like this.
“Go away Donna,” he says, kicking the door closed.
“Harvey, I’m not gonna stand here in a wedding dress and talk through the door. I’m coming in.” She says it gently though, pressing down slowly on the door handle as if to give him a chance to protest. He doesn’t. Why bother? She’s already here. She must know by now how low he really is.
When the door opens, Harvey loses his breath. He can’t believe that something as beautiful as Donna today could even exist in the world, much less be standing in front of him. For a moment, all he can feel is awe. Then he remembers how he must look to her right now, and the feeling sours.
“Aww, my baby,” Donna whispers, and the love in her voice somehow negates some of the sting of the pity. Even though he knows it’s because he looks pathetic, a small part of Harvey that he tries to keep hidden laps up the affection. Most of him cringes in shame. She continues, as if she doesn’t notice. But she probably does notice, because she’s Donna. “Louis, can you give us a sec?”
Louis shoots a bewildered look down at his bare feet and the wet shoes in his hands, but he steps out of the shower anyway, his feet slapping on the tile as he goes.
“Come here,” Donna whispers, setting a towel on the edge of the shower to protect her $100,000 dress before she sits on it. Harvey insisted on paying for it and she didn’t put up a fight. She’s holding a little pearl clutch, which she rests on the bathroom counter. Harvey hesitates, so she pats her knee insistently. He sighs and slides across the floor to lay his head on her lap. He closes his eyes when she runs a hand over his hair. Her touch is gentle, careful not to interfere with his hairstyle.
“Donna,” he says, his voice stronger than it’s been since the attack started.
“Shhh,” she replies, running a light finger over his cheek. “I know we’re gonna be late. It’s fine. What are they gonna do? Start without us?”
“No,” he protests, sitting up to look at her. “You can’t tell me that after this,” he gestures vaguely to himself. “You still want to do this today.”
Donna gives him an impatient look, like she can’t believe he would waste her time with this nonsense.
“Harvey, honey, did you think I didn’t know you had panic attacks?”
He sighs, running a hand over his tired eyes. No, he doesn’t think that. He can’t hide anything from her, especially not once they started actually dating. If he thought it was bad when she was his secretary, he had no idea how much she would know everything now. He just doesn’t understand how she knows all there is to know about him and she hasn’t left yet.
“Do you not want to marry me?” she asks.
His heart drops at the question. It’s one thing to tell her he’s sorry from a distance and not show up. It’s another to look at her right here and maintain enough strength to set her free. He can’t do it. He doesn’t want to do it. He won’t do it.
“I do,” he says, so quietly it’s as if the words weren’t convinced whether they should come out or not.
“What was that?” Donna asks, leaning forward. Harvey sighs and smiles despite himself.
“Yes, Donna, I want to marry you.”
“Thank you, Harvey,” she says, in a throwaway tone of voice like she knew that’s what he would say all along. Which of course she did. Her face grows more serious as they look into each other’s eyes. “I’ve always loved you. I love you as much when you’re scared as I do when you’re strong. Don’t ever try to hide yourself from me again.”
He leans his head back on her lap and closes his eyes, goosebumps raising on his skin when she slowly strokes the back of his neck. The fear seems so ridiculous now that she’s here. Of course they won’t end up like his parents. She’s nothing like his mother. She cares about him more than anything. She’s the best thing that ever happened to him, and he should know better by now than to let her get away.
“Ok,” he says finally, reluctantly lifting his head off of her lap. “Let’s go get married.”
She hesitates, and for a split second his breath catches as he wonders if she changed her mind.
“First you better take this,” she says, reaching for her little pearl clutch and pulling out a small toothbrush and a travel tube of toothpaste. “I love you but you smell like the morning after a frat party.”
He laughs, snatching the toothbrush out of her hand. Of course she would have thought to bring this. She’s good at what she does.
The crowd erupts in small gasps and whispers of adoration when the bride steps into the aisle, her steps in rhythm with a song from the groom’s father’s last record. The Best Man turns towards the groom, watching the unabashed joy that lights up his face with a sense of relief. He smiles at the Matron of Honor, and her eyes meet his.