P.S. (Please Stay)

Nineteen

"No," Harry said in response to her unanswered question. "But... go on," he urged. He didn't want her to stop talking.

"Anyway... Jess said he looked like you..." Olivia glanced at Harry for only a moment as she gestured to her head. "The hair..." she explained with a dry snicker. "Somewhere along the way, we got the bright idea to make it into a voodoo doll. And then we found a blonde Barbie and obviously... Taylor..." she surmised with a shrug.

Despite her admission of cursing him, Harry allowed himself a small smile. "A voodoo doll..." he repeated, echoing Olivia's snicker. "Creative..." he teased, hoping to get a smile out of her.

Olivia didn't smile. "Yeah... We drew tattoos and... cut off all the Taylor doll's hair, and then... We threw them in a fire."

"Jesus," Harry snickered. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or not, but the thought of Olivia furiously drawing his tattoos all over a doll and then tossing it into a fire was amusing to him, and not insulting.

Olivia stopped pumping her legs and stretched her toes towards the ground, coming to a quick stop. She ran her hands across the chain link before looking up at Harry. "It might not be the same as saying you're dead to me, but... I wasn't singing your praises either," she told him with a shrug. "I said some things... mean, ugly things... about you, about Taylor. And I lied about our relationship and made you seem like a total asshole. I wasn't innocent either. God, I was so mad at you, back then..."

"I never, ever meant any of it..." Harry tried to explain as he slowed his swing. "I was only..."

"Yeah," Olivia interrupted. "I was, too..." She was silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. She wasn't an emotional person, but she could feel tears pricking in her eyes. "It's just... it makes me sad we were both once at a point where we... really didn't like each other."

Harry heard Olivia's voice crack, and he reached out for her swing, pulling her closer to him. "Listen to me," he told her, his voice hoarse. "I've always loved you. Even when it seemed like I didn't, I did. And I always, always will."

Olivia covered Harry's hand with hers. "I know," she answered, not surprised by her answer. "Me, too," she promised him. There had never been a doubt in her mind she would always love Harry. "Even when I was throwing your doll twin in a fire, I still loved you. Wouldn't have cared so much if I didn't..."

Harry beamed, relieved she would not give up on them. "I get that," he answered. "So, I guess now, we...?"

"Keep going?" Olivia supplied. "I mean, Harry, I want to move past this. I don't want to lose us over this... I just got you back," she reminded him with a choked chuckle. "And I'm not mad at you now," she added. "I'm just... It makes me sad. Both what I said and what you said... that whole shitty blip in our past. But I want to move past it because I love you."

Harry tugged his fingers through a lock of Olivia's hair. "It's like that scene in Sex and the City," he realised. "When Steve and Miranda have to go onto the bridge if they're both willing to just... learn from their past, let it all go, and move forward together." He pushed on the swing, getting Olivia to his eye level. "I'm on that bridge, and I love you too."

Olivia furrowed her brow. "Did you really just...?" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Of course you did..." she snickered. A romantic-comedy reference was not rare with Harry. It would have been odd if he hadn't thrown a movie narrative into their conversation.

"But I'm on that bridge, too," Olivia whispered, resting her forehead against Harry. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Harry grinned, pulling Olivia into a tight hug. "You're supposed to say 'and I'm not looking back' and then I can say 'oh, but Miranda looked back' and then you roll your eyes at me and we both think about that sex scene, remember?"