Carter cried in the shower every night. She hated herself for what she had done. Jacob didn't know and she wasn't ever going to tell him. He didn't deserve to feel the pain that came with knowing that he was cheated on, but she deserved to feel the guilt.

Hiding the hickeys was the hardest part. She started bringing her clothes with her into the bathroom to change after she had showered and the excuses for why she didn't want to have sex were endless.

Jacob thought it was weird, but he also knew she ran a lot of businesses and it was stressful so he didn't put too much thought to it.

Carter wanted to avoid him and work longer hours, but that would be suspicious so she bottled everything inside until she got a moment alone.

Smoke filtered through the window and into the dim morning light. She hadn't smoked since she left Harry in Paris, but the need became overwhelming during the previous weeks.

Harry hadn't tried to contact her since and she was grateful, but she was also hurt because it was clear that they both still loved one another deeply and she didn't think he would just give up like that.

A part of her wished that he was still, essentially, stalking her and another part wished that he would just stay away and move on like she was trying to.

Carter hadn't finished getting dressed and was only in her bra and underwear as she looked out and into the city. Jacob was up and getting ready for work, but she wasn't paying attention.

"Ouch. Baby, how did you get that nasty bruise on your hip?"

His voice had taken her by surprise and she jumped slightly before snuffing out her cigarette. She'd forgotten about the bruise she'd acquired from the seatbelt clip in Harry's car and internally cursed herself.

Jacob's fingers skimmed over the fading bruise carefully and she hoped that her lips weren't trembling as made something up, "Oh, that. I hit the stupid counter at work a little while back. Hurt like a bitch."

His smile was soft, his hand resting on her waist as he sponged a kiss to her neck, "You should be more careful." Jacob laughed softly before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, "When will you be back?"

Carter closed her eyes at his touch and the warm rays of sunlight that hit her exposed skin, "Hmm, about a week, give or take a few days."

She was leaving for Paris in an hour to check on another one of her shops and knock some clients out of the way. It had been too long since she had been back and she felt terrible for neglecting that shop because she was tied to the memory of when she left Harry.

Jacob pressed another kiss to her neck, "I hate it when you leave, the flat feels so empty."

His words felt empty even as he said them.

Carter turned spun around in his arms, pressing her lips to his sweetly, "Me too. I'll be back soon though. In the meantime, invite your friends over, watch some football, eat some pizza, and drink some beer. It's only empty if you let it be."

Her words were equally as empty, no matter how much she willed herself to be sincere.

. . .

Carter had just finished unpacking when a piece of paper a little bigger than an index card slid under her door.

Carter stared at it for a moment before making her way over to pick it up. Strange things that slid under your door in hotels weren't exactly good things most of the time, so she was wary as she retrieved the small card from the carpeted floor.

The back was blank, but the front was beautiful. Gold calligraphy spelled out Le chef-d'oeuvre, The Masterpiece, and beneath it was an address followed by a time.

It was from Harry, she was certain of it, but she didn't know how he found her or how he happened to have a show in Paris at the same time that she did. Sure, it had happened before, but the chances had become low in the years that they spent apart and she didn't think that it was a coincidence anymore.

Then again, things happened for a reason, so maybe it was.

Carter immediately thought about just throwing the card in the trash, or burning it outside the open window when she smoked, but something held her back and she tucked the card in her pocket for later. There was about four hours until the gallery opened for the show and it could wait, it wasn't a pressing matter and it gave her time to think about what she wanted to do.

The card felt heavy in her pocket as she went out to a quaint little restaurant for dinner. It gnawed at her thoughts and burned a hole in her pocket for three of the four hours that were between the gallery's opening.

At a quarter to eight, she found herself rummaging through her suitcase for something nice to wear. Carter cursed herself silently for hardly bringing any formal wear at all. At five after eight, she stood outside the gallery, clutching her purse tighter then she should have and debating on whether she really wanted to do this or not. He would certainly see her, but did she want him to? More importantly, did she want to see him after what they had done?

Eight fifteen; Carter walked inside the beautiful building with the hope that, maybe, he wouldn't find her in the throng of people.

Everything was so different. His works used to be so bright, inspiring, and happy, and now they were gloomy, depressing, and monotone.

And she'd done it to him. She had drained the light and the happiness from him and now she saw it in full light and fancy frames.

Her heart sank with every piece she passed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes with each step. She hadn't even made it halfway through the place when she found a charcoal drawing that nearly shattered her. Harry only drew in charcoal when it was highly important to him.

It was set up in segments, all varying in size, and each was more heartbreaking than the last. The first segment was the hotel room they shared two years ago, the note and the ring on the pillow and the words "I'm sorry" were written in her scripted cursive in big bold letters.

The next segment was a man with his head in his hands, tears falling over his fingers, with the sunlight streaming through that same hotel room window.

Carter was crying rivers, but she couldn't look away from the story he'd put on paper. He was showing the public the reason behind his sudden change in the last few years; He was showing them his heart.

The segment after that was a man destroying a warehouse. His warehouse. Carter could feel her heart contract further with each frame. Following that, was a series of plane tickets that all led to the cities that she had shops in, all of the places that he hoped he could find her in.

He'd been looking for her since she left and she had been doing the exact opposite. If she thought that her heart had hurt before, it was suffocating her now.

The next segment didn't make anything better either. London framed the background, the city awash with light, and there was a woman running away with her hands at her eyes and a man, on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk, a tear streaking down the visible side of his cheek.

Another segment and they were kissing behind her shop, his hands pressed to her cheeks and hers on his chest. Then there was a car door, flung open wide and her figure walking away.

The last segment was the worst. A man curled up in the center of the bed, no sheets covered him and he was only in his boxers, tears were visible trailing down his cheeks and the clock on the nightstand read 4:36A.M.

It was strikingly clear that the man and the woman in the drawing represented herself and Harry. To an onlooker, it wouldn't be obvious because he had changed features to make them look like different people, but she knew because she had been there and so had he.

He wanted her to see how much she had hurt, and was still hurting him, and it had worked.

She felt it in every part of her body and it felt like drowning. Not the good kind of drowning either, the kind of drowning that was smothering and terrifying, the kind that drug you further into the darkness and gave you no way out.

Once, she had wanted to drown in his love, to be encompassed in the thick and rolling waves and pulled further and further from the shore. And she had, Carter had drowned in Harry and his love and she still was today.

She was suffocating and it was all her fault.

While Carter stood in front of the drawing crying her heart out, Harry walked over, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He'd seen her the moment that she walked in, but he had trouble walking over to her because he felt the guilt in heavy waves every day since they'd been together in his car.

What they had done was more his fault than hers and the look that she had given him afterward had kept him up all night since.

Harry's lips parted and his voice struggled to leave his throat, "I...I didn't think that you'd come."

He'd startled her, but she had hardly shown it. Carter wiped at her eyes hastily and turned around to face him, "I didn't think that I would either."

Smothering silence passed between them and created a thick atmosphere where everything felt elevated. Carter swore that she could hear his heartbeat beneath his ribs and the blood rushing in her veins.

Harry sighed softly, the words he wanted to say wanted to be let out quickly, even with Carter looking at him like he was the worst and the best thing that ever happened to her, "I wanted to apologize for what I did, for making you something that you never wanted to be, something that broke your heart way too many times. My sadness had finally gone away when I saw you and I just...I lost control of my morals, what was right and what was wrong. What we did was wrong and it was my fault because I never should have kissed you.

When you told me that you loved him, I lost it and I wanted to piss him off, I wanted you to cheat and that was so fucking wrong. I realized it the moment you said that you were the worst hypocrite in the world. I hate that I did that to you. Every night I think about it and I don't sleep because I know how much that broke your heart.

You told me to move on, and, even if you don't think so, a piece of your heart was in there somewhere and you meant it. I can't move on Carter, I can't. I've tried and nothing works. It's always you.

I hate that you want to move on and that you are moving on, but you're not mine to control and if you don't want me anymore, then that's your decision. I just want you to know that every piece of my heart is still yours and will be yours, if you ever want it again. And...and, if you ever need me, I'll be there for you. All you have to do is ask."

He'd started crying the moment he opened his mouth and Carter cried with him. People were staring, but many of them were kind enough to walk away and not eavesdrop. A good number stayed and spectated, but they didn't even notice because they were too absorbed with one another.

Carter shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks heavily. She didn't want to move on from him, she wanted to continue drowning in him but she just couldn't make herself leave from the man that had become her distraction, "I don't want to move on from you. I want you as much as my body wants oxygen to survive, but I don't want to break his heart, Harry. You're so...wonderful and you're everything that I want, but you aren't the absolute safety that I need. I'm so, so sorry."

Harry wouldn't look at her anymore, if he was everything that she wanted and needed, then she would have chosen him long before now. He was pissed too because she broke his heart every fucking night since she had left him in Paris and she didn't even seem to care.

"You don't want to break his heart, but you're okay with breaking mine over and over again every single day?" His voice broke a few words in, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know how much she was hurting him.

Carter's lips trembled and her chest heaved with each breath, "I...no. Harry, I'm not okay with doing that to you. I hate myself for doing that to you. I just...God, I don't know! Either way, I'm breaking someone's heart and I don't want to be that person, Harry. I don't."

Finally, he wiped at his eyes, even though it made little difference because he was still crying, "Have you told him yet?"

She was the one averting her eyes now, "No. He'll leave me if I do."

"He deserves to know, Carter." Harry's voice was flat and hard, Carter nearly flinched at the sound.

Carter shook her head and explained herself, "But he doesn't deserve to feel that bad because of what I did. I deserve to live with the guilt eating at me every day and to cry in the shower because I hate myself for the decisions that I've made. Not him. He shouldn't have to feel pain because he fell in love with me."

Harry felt like someone had just impaled him with the largest and sharpest object. He could hardly breathe.

"But I do?"

Glossy blue eyes met his, "You least of all. I never ever meant to hurt you so bad. I am so sorry."

Before he could stop her, Carter wiped her eyes hastily and started to walk away, shouldering through throngs of people and muttering weak apologies as she went.

Carter knew that he couldn't leave until his showing was over and used that to her advantage. Harry sunk to the floor and cried with his back against the wall with thousands of eyes staring at him.

. . .

Carter tossed and turned for hours. Nothing was wrong with her bed, but everything was wrong with her.

Her heart hurt and her mind ran in circles.

After a few hours, she gave in and gave up on trying to sleep.

Her phone screen was bright and burned her eyes for a moment before she dimmed the backlight. Carter's fingers typed in the familiar numbers with ease.

He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice deep and weighed down with sleep, "Hello?"

Carter held her breath. She wasn't sure that he wouldn't hang up on her after she told him who it was. That, and she felt god awful about what she'd done to him.

He was about to hang up when she rushed out, "It's Carter. I can't sleep."

There was a muffled sound from the other end and she envisioned him shifting into a more comfortable position.

"It's three twenty in the morning."

Carter sighed as she glanced at the clock on the bedside dresser, "I know."

Silence filled the receiver, the only sound that carried over the phone was their breathing.

Harry spoke first, his voice holding more emotion than it had the previous time, "Carter, shouldn't you be calling him?"

She should have, but he was the one she wanted to talk to. His voice was soothing, even if it was scratchy from sleep, she missed it more than she wanted to admit, and he always knew the right things to say.

"Yes. But I wanted to call you."

Harry was smiling on the other end and she didn't have to see him to know, "I'm glad that you did. Why can't you sleep, sweetheart?"

The familiar endearing term pulled at her heart and stirred up a storm in her stomach, she took a deep breath before she responded, "You."

His sleepy laugh filled her ears and she couldn't help but to smile. She'd missed the sound.

"If I'm what's keeping you up, how would calling me help you?"

Carter could still feel his smile through the phone, imagining how his dimples indented his cheeks and how his eyes crinkled with the small action.

Carter smiled up at the plain ceiling, tears spilling over the corners of her eyes, "Because I miss you."

Harry couldn't hear her, she was good at crying silently, but he knew that she was crying because something felt wrong, "You're crying."

She nodded even though he couldn't see her, "Yeah."

"I hate it when you cry."

A broken laugh passed her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop crying, "Me too."

Harry didn't know what to say.

Carter couldn't stop her thoughts and there was one that had been berating at her for years that just wouldn't go away. She had to tell him; she couldn't keep it a secret anymore.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, "There's something that I need to tell you. About...about after I left you."

Harry took a shaky breath, whenever someone says 'there's something that I need to tell you' it hardly ever ends well. "Okay."

Tears were streaming down Carter's face for the umpteenth time during the day, "A few weeks after I left you, I...I missed a period. I took like twelve tests and they all read positive."

Carter gave him a moment to process before she continued.

"I...you were pregnant?"

"Y-yeah. Everything was fine and I went to go get an ultrasound and...and everything wasn't fine Harry. They couldn't find a heartbeat at sixteen weeks." Carter was almost hysterical, "I lost our baby, Harry. I lost our baby boy."

He was crying with her now, she hadn't ever told him that she was pregnant and he felt beyond awful that she had to go through that alone, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Carter choked back a sob, "I was so afraid Harry. I wanted to, and I had the text typed out so many times, but after I lost the baby, I just couldn't do it. It's been tearing me apart ever since and part of the reason I'm not letting myself get lost in you again is because I'm afraid that if we did, it would happen again. I don't ever, ever, want to feel like that again, Harry."

He didn't say anything and there was a knock on her door. When she didn't get up to answer, he spoke up, "Please open the door Carter. Please."

Her feet carried her to the door, she was tired of ignoring him and his touch would make the suffocating sadness go away. He was her medicine, even if they were both broken and falling apart.

Carter opened the door to wide, glossy, green eyes and messy hair. Harry didn't give her a chance to say anything before his arms were around her and his head was in her neck.

He was sobbing, but that was okay because she was too.

Her hands clutched to him and held him tightly, as if holding him tighter would make everything better somehow.

It took a while for them to break apart and shut the door, but, when they did, they ended up in her bed, feet, foreheads, and hands touching and tear streaks staining their cheeks.

They'd found comfort in one another, just like they always had and, finally, their hearts had a moment of peace.

"It isn't your fault, you know."

Carter's light eyes looked over his features, soft in the dim light. Harry could tell her it wasn't his fault for the rest of her life and she would still feel like it was. "I still feel like it is. I'm sorry that I lost our baby."

Harry didn't think as he pressed his lips to hers, his hand lifting to rest carefully against her cheek.

Carter let him do it consciously, he was her addiction and she'd come to terms that she would hurt someone either way, so it didn't really matter because he would be hurt one moment and Jacob would be hurt the next.

But she was hurting now and he was there; Harry was always there, even when he wasn't.

Harry's voice was gentle and full of compassion and unwavering love, "It wasn't your fault. I forgive you, sweetheart. I will always forgive you."