"I know, I know." Harry sighed at her words and he seemed to crumble in front of her. He sank down onto the floor beside her, his arm on the table beside her. "I've been trying so hard to be like my father that I'm starting to inherit the bad traits as well." He rubbed his forehead, clearly wilting under her murderous gaze.
"The last thing I want to do is make excuses right now." He looked at her and it was like staring into a sun of pure anger. "Tonight was suppose to be perfect but once again I messed things up." His fingers tapped on the table cloth and he reached into his suit pocket. "I would have told you why I was running late but it would have ruined the surprise." He set a rectangular box down on the table in front of her. "I was late because the engraver was running behind."
Inside she would find a silver bracelet with diamonds adorning the intricate metal work. A flat plate would rest along her wrist where he had the words, "To my love, Felicia Hardy-Osborn", written in a flowing script. It was to be the lead in for his next statement.
He'd already dropped to one knee and the ring box was in his other pocket. He looked up at her, waiting for her to open the box.