Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 15

"Thanks," he muttered, smoothing the tie against his chest. His other hand went to his ear, nervously tugging at his ear lobe. "I will."

"Olivia," she mutters as both a greeting and a goodbye as she pushes past me. All I could do was look down at my feet, still in shock at how shitty of a day this was turning out to be.

The sound of the front office door closing sounded like a gun going off, threatening the deafening silence between us.

So Eleanor was right. He is a lying, cheating bastard. I can't even look at him. As much as I hate Eleanor, this situation makes me hate all of them. I hate her for being an absolute bitch who thought so little of him in the first place, and I hate him for not rising above it, for fucking anything in a short skirt and a flirty attitude. I thought I knew him. I thought he was my friend. I thought he was better than this.

Disappointment tastes so bitter. I couldn't even look at him.

"You got something for me?" he chimes, his jovial tone making me want to slap him.

Yeah. A kiss with a fist, you prick.

"A magazine from Eleanor," I mutter, hearing him walk back around his desk and plop back into his chair. I close the distance, pushing the magazine onto his desk. I didn't want to be close to his touch. I didn't even want him to touch something I was touching at the same time.

"Martha Stewart Living?" he smirks in mock excitement. "The floral issue. Olivia, you really shouldn't have!" he squealed playfully.

All I could do was force a bitter smile. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. "What's wrong, Al? Your dopplar radar machine broken?"

You, you asshole. You are what's wrong. You are playing into Eleanor's evil little plan by fucking the wedding planner, you absolute idiot.

"Eleanor fired Stacey this morning," I mutter. My words betrayed my heart. I didn't want to tell him anything, yet here I am spilling my guts to my lying, cheating... "But I'm sure you knew that," I add bitterly.

Harry's frown deepened. "No...no, I didn't know that." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest in a concerned fashion. "She tell you why?"

"I guess she sold photos of her first wedding dress to the magazines, and then tipped off the paparazzi to your tux fitting," I shrugged. Why was I telling him this? He didn't deserve to know. Not from me.

"Are you fucking serious!?" he interrupted, his face hardening into one of anger. "I...I didn't think she was like that," he muttered. He ran a hand through his unruly short hair.

"Yes, it's just tragic," I mumble, not even capable of minimizing the sarcasm falling from my lips. I can't help but wonder if he was banging Stacey, too. Was there more to this story Eleanor conveniently left out to play tricks with me?

I look up at Harry, seeing a confused, almost hurt look on his face. It must be my imagination. What does he have to feel hurt by?

"You okay?" he asked, worriedly. His eyes are cautious, and he has that same look on his face as he does when he's trying to judge Eleanor's mood.

"I'm fine," I mutter defiantly, forcing what I think is a brilliant smile.

He chuckled ironically. "You're not fine, Livvy." His voice was gentle, and he genuinely was concerned.