Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 62*

"WHEREAS, the parties are presently unmarried and intend to be married to each other within the next year and, in anticipation of such marriage, the parties desire to fix and determine various financial relationships that will apply during their marriage and upon the termination of their marriage whether by death, divorce or otherwise..."

The words stand out starkly on the page under his elbow, and as much as Harry is trying to concentrate on the work in front of him, he can't help but let his eyes drift to the legal agreement.

This is why he hates working in the office. It's Eleanor's office, decorated in creams with glass tables, white woods and silk fabrics — nothing masculine about the space at all. But Harry finds that he's been spending more and more time here over the past several months. It started out small, bringing home a few files from the office one night so he wouldn't have to deal with them in the morning. He'd sat at the kitchen island and powered through it, having nothing better to do — what with Eleanor in Paris and Olivia...well he didn't want to think about her.

He had found he worked better at home, was able to concentrate more easily, so he started leaving the complicated stuff for home — and the next thing he knew, he was bringing things home every night.

Eleanor had been shocked when she'd gotten back and found him elbow deep in record contracts, telling him she was happy that he was finally really starting to enjoy the business end of things.

Since he'd been bringing home so much work, he decided it was only practical to work in the office — those little spindly chairs in the kitchen were killing his back — and so here is where he's been spending most of his nights. He'll come home from work, pour himself a glass of wine, and get to work, spending hours pouring over documents and demo tapes, then climb the stairs to bed where he'll slide in behind Eleanor, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek before resting his head on his pillow and trying to sleep.

He doesn't sleep much these days. Work has been on his mind a lot. He's been thinking expansion, maybe taking on more artists, maybe opening a studio. He's been talking a lot with Nick about expanding the clothing line to shoes and high fashion, opening a few more stores around the country, Miami and Chicago maybe. He'd talked to his restaurant partner about maybe opening a version of his restaurant in NY. There is a lot to do and a lot to think about, money to be made and time to be spent.

He finds that if he keeps himself busy, he's happier. If he's busy, he doesn't miss his family, doesn't wish Nick was around more, doesn't miss the smell of Olivia's skin and hair, her smile or her laugh. He shakes his head hard. He's sure the funk he's been in is some weird manifestation of stress from trying to figure out how to fix his life. After all, the wedding is only a month away now, and he still hasn't done what he's supposed to.

His eyes flick to the legal papers again, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You know we're going to have to get you a desk in here, I think."

Harry cranes his neck, finding Eleanor leaning against the doorway, a soft smile gracing her lips. She's still wearing her work clothes, a soft chiffon blouse ruffled up to the neck, arms bare. A pencil skirt hugs the slight curve of her hips, cinching her waist and giving her legs the illusion that they go on for days, peep toe heels skyrocketing her into the stratosphere. Harry gives her a small smile, looking back down at the papers in front of him, wondering how long she's been standing there.

"Yeah..." is the only thing he can think of to say, and he can hear the dull thud of her heels as they sink into the carpet.

"You've been working a lot lately," she states, reaching to run a hand over the short stubble on his chin, "you look tired."