Eliza peered at her reflection. Just two short weeks had passed since she'd taken a pair of not so sharp shears to her long and expensive locks (let's be real here, lux hair extensions in that shade of red were not something to be had at your local salon.) What she had come to realize in those two weeks were two things. The first was that cutting her hair as a symbol of her personal growth, and all around inner awesomeness was not something that other people could read. This was a truth she came to know when exactly no one commented on her newly minted status as a hella confident individual defined by no one else.

Surprisingly almost no one even commented on her new look. It was astonishing to her, because as unattractive as she'd viewed herself in high school with that ratty mess of uneven and hellishly dried out ends, at this point it her life she was fairly certain she could def work a chic bob any day of the week. And yet, much to her ever increasing dismay, she couldn't seem to find anyone around who even spared her new do a second glance, and more importantly she didn't think her new aura of confidence was radiating quite like she'd expected. (She forgave Charmonique's inattention. The woman changed her hairstyle/color daily, sometimes bi-daily, and surely found it tedious to comment on something as mundane as a change in length.)

This assessment was still pending, since she'd yet to encounter the one person whose opinion actually mattered. Henry had been called away on business (some PR nightmare involving liquid laxative mislabeled as gas drops, hashtag yikes).

This was the second thing that she'd learned in the past two weeks. She missed Henry Higgs, and not just in that normal, hey-I-miss-hanging-out kind of way. No, she missed him in an aching way. A pain she hadn't felt since she'd left her vintage bubble flap Chanel bag on the subway the first time she'd visited NYC. She'd felt the phantom touch of soft buttery leather under her fingertips for weeks afterwards, and seen the damn thing nearly every time she closed her eyes.

But this feeling was so much worse, because the things she missed were things at one point she would have been happy to have been rid of. The way he said her voice sometimes, three syllables infused with more frustration than she'd ever heard. And that was saying something, there was a long list of people in Eliza's life that found her exasperating. She shouldn't have missed it, and especially shouldn't have missed the way the corners of his mouth twitched downward as she launched into one of his Higgs-patented lectures.

But she couldn't help compare the passion with which he said her name to the sing-songy way Freddie chirped at her passing by her desk. Eliza felt more affection when Henry growled her name in that adorably grumpy way he had, something a little darker swirling in the pit of her stomach when she caught his eyes.

That in itself was really unfortunate, traitorous involuntary reactions letting her know she was totes still pining for one Korean-American pharmaceutical marketing expert. Henry had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't buying what she was selling (and probably would have had a problem with her referring to her affections/love as marketable goods, and let's be honest, she was the best salesperson at Kindercare, if she'd been selling he definitely would have been buying).

Wasn't there something that old people were always saying about absence and the heart? She could only vaguely recall the ancient proverb, but she was fairly sure that absence magnified the inappropriate yearning in her soul (and between her legs). She'd idly thought about asking Freddie to take a trip somewhere far far away, thinking perhaps the outer edge of Siberia would be far enough to rekindle the interest she'd once had in him. As it was, she'd settled for instituting a "break," confident that it would fail spectacularly just like it had for Rachel.

Eliza's decision to cast aside Freddie may have seemed sudden to the casual observer, and in light of his recent attempts at being what she needed in a boyfriend, it may have even seemed a bit cruel. But it hadn't taken Eliza long, brandishing her new found self assuredness, to realize that staying with Freddie would have been dishonest, to herself and to him. She couldn't stay with Freddie just because she didn't want to be lonely, or because the grouch she'd declared her love for her had almost immediately rejected her (champagne and jager shots may have been the only salve for her tears, but it made for historically poor decisions.)

It was no accident that she'd gotten up an hour earlier than usual this morning, the nerves bubbling in her stomach as she picked out her favorite outfit and carefully applied her makeup. Today, the crisis team would be returning, and at its helm her recently discovered best friend. It also wasn't a coincidence that her favorite outfit happened to be a seemingly modest gray sheath dress, something she suspected Henry would more than approve of, even though it clung to her like a second skin, only exposing the gentle curve of her creamy shoulders.

She even got to work early, catching Charmonique in the dangerous ten minutes before her morning cappuccino took effect. Eliza's nerves made her more oblivious than usual, and she excitedly chattered away while her friend simply glared.

"Omg, Char, did you notice how pretty the sky was this morning? It was like totally four different shades of sherbet. I grammed it so I could show my manicurist, totally gotta get that color combo-"

"Eliza…"

"Danielle is like a sorceress with nail polish, she does this cold water thing, and -"

"Dooley…"

Eliza paid no attention to the woman sitting in front of her, fluttering her most recent manicure as she continued. "- nail art is basically an accessory at this point. You could totes forgo statement rings-"

"Eliza!"

The redhead snapped back to herself, eyes wide as she stared down at a Charmonique, surprised to hear such a sharp note of irritation in her voice as she clutched her coffee cup like a life preserve. "What, Char, did the barista give you decaf again? That basic better get her life right, you're basically unbearable without caffeine."

Charmonique shook her head, sipping the coffee as she assessed the willowy woman before her. "Eliza Dooley, you are not a morning person, and neither am I. What is this?" She gestured vaguely up and down her body. "I do not have time to deal with a friend with a newly developed addiction to diet pills."

Eliza smiled. "Awe, you think I'm a friend. That's so sweet."

"Totally not the point."

Eliza shrugged, taking her declarations of friendship where she could get them. "No diet pills, Charmonique. I'm just… happy."

"Mmm hmm."

There was a shrewd not in that inarticulate sound, and Eliza took it the way it was mostly likely intended. She bristled at it, feeling a little bit found out. "What are you mmm-hmm-ing about?"

Draining the last of her cup, Charmonique threaded her fingers together, feeling a little more meddlesome than usual. "Could your happiness have something to do with the return of a certain marketing executive?"

"Oh, is that today?" Eliza's question was not convincing, and she immediately looked down at her phone, feigning interest in the electronic device.

"It sure is." She settled back in her chair, arms crossed, satisfied with her read of the situation. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Workaholic came in early this morning, and is already catching up on his backlog of emails."

Suddenly, Eliza was short of breath, whatever inane conversation she'd initiated with Charmonique completely forgotten. "Henry's here…" She trailed off, involuntarily turning away from the receptionist's desk.

She skipped down the corridor in a stilted run, her heels making things somewhat awkward. Eliza knew she looked like a newborn giraffe when she ran in heels, her long legs taking short little steps while her skinny arms swung outward, but she didn't' particularly care at the moment.

Stumbling through the door, she saw him first, his back to her as he thumbed through his filing cabinet. It was perhaps her second favorite view of Henry, he first of course being any position she could look him right in the eye. This however, was a very close second. Say what you will about the man being uptight, but he sure as hell knew how to dress himself, perfectly tailored trousers outlining a physique that made her mouth water.

As much as she would have loved to enjoy the view, she couldn't restrain herself from bounding across his office. "Henry! You're back!"

He turned just in time to catch her barreling toward him, arms extended in acceptance of the hug she was enthusiastically proffering. She clung to him, burying her face in the hollow of his neck. She sighed as his cologne infiltrated her sinuses. She melted a little, the feeling lasting a millisecond before embarrassment crept in.

She pulled away, more than a little self conscious, putting about a foot between them. She opened her mouth, searching for something to say, something to break the strange tension suddenly filling the room.

Before she could form any words, Henry lifted his hand, reaching out to touch the ends of her hair. The action was familiar, and he lingered just a touch too long, a smile spreading across his face. "Eliza, you cut your hair."

She nodded, holding her breath as she waited to hear what he thought.

His smile widened. "I think it suits you, makes you seem like… you." He dropped his hand, clearing his throat. "I mean, uh, you were you before, it's just…" He laughed. "It looks very nice Eliza."

She let out the breath she was holding in a short chuckle. "Yeah, I think so too." She had intended to tell him all about her revelation, her moment of stunning clarity as she stood before her bathroom mirror, but she was accosted with an unexpected bout of shyness.

Henry turned back to the filing cabinet briefly, snatching up the file he'd been looking for. "It's early yet… Would you like to keep me company while I catch up on work? You can tell me all the juicy goings on and interoffice drama I missed in the past two weeks."

She nodded, taking the seat in front of his desk. He clicked away at his computer, listening to her recount Sarperstein's latest obsession, bikram yoga, and the disastrous attempt to include everyone in the office.

"Let's just say the past couple fridays around here have been more than a little pungent, and I have at least one silk top that will never be worn again."

She giggled, causing Henry to look up from his computer, a matching grin on his face. "I'm sorry I missed it." And he was, truly, as surprising as it seemed, he would have loved to have been here with her, complaining about their unconventional boss.

The laughter faded away, leaving in it's absence a soft smile and sparkling eyes. The breath caught in Henry's chest, as it was so wont to do when speaking with Eliza. She was so enchantingly beautiful, something ethereal radiating from her presence. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Sure, her hairstyle was different, pretty even, but that wasn't the change he sensed in her. This was something that, to most people would have been intangible, but Henry had become tuned into her in the past several months.

His smile faltered when he remembered the probably cause for her happiness. She was pushing forward in her relationship with Freddie, making great personal strides that, if he weren't so invested in a different outcome, he would have been cheering for. Looking away, he returned his attention to his computer screen. Tapping away at the keys, he asked her as nonchalantly as possible, "And how are things with Freddie?"

His heartbeat picked up pace, thudding uncomfortably against his sternum. Henry made a mental note to schedule his yearly physical. He couldn't attribute his physiological reaction, this ache developing in his throat, to jealousy. He was an adult, damn it. He could be her friend, be happy for her as she took each new step in her burgeoning relationship. Even if it seemed that those steps took her further and further from him.

However, lying to himself was easier as a concept than an action. The tightness in his throat prevented him from carrying forward their conversation, even if he wondered at her quiet response. "What was that?"

"We're on a break."

Henry's eyes shot up, searching out her face. "What exactly does that mean Eliza?"

A/N: I'm sad that the show is over, but I enjoyed writing this. Let me know what you think, it's possible i might continue it later.