“thank you for the flowers. they were beautiful.”

there’s something about his gaze that makes it hard for her to sit still. 

it’s possible it’s her own guilt eating her up-- she is not prone to outbursts but her honesty at the dinner where they’d been introduced is fresh on her mind and despite her apologies to his family, the gifts she’d sent and the bruises her mother’s palm had left her with she still felt it. fresh on her mind. she looks like a picture, a chanel dress-- heels, a purse, bone straight hair, every bit the trophy wife she’s fairly sure she’s expected to be. the thought of it-- their impending nuptuals, makes her stomach swim, and she digs her own nails into her palm. 

breathe harley. breathe. 

"i'm not normally so.... open." 

harley is not good at apologising-- and his gaze is intense enough that for a second she falters, before regrouping. 

"what i mean to say is-- i didn't know i was doing anything but meeting a man i was supposed to go on a few dates with. my mother didn't warn me that it was marriage. and then you came in and made me feel even more like a child-- it...  i didn't mean to insult you. or your family. i'm sorry. i meant no disrespect." 

he's inscrutable and hard to predict. he had been cold and distant at the dinner though-- to be fair-- she hadn't been the warmest person in the room. now he just seemed like a man. handsome--certainly. but aloof too.