Harry was tired. After what happened with Lucy, he really didn't want to see you, didn't want to try anything else. He accepted that he was destined to be alone.

To him, she had the nerve to want to introduce him to a new woman, one who hadn't yet found love. Very beautiful, earned almost the same as him, relatively young, but... he thought, if she was so good, why hadn't she found anyone yet?

Lucy was a bit of a liar when it comes to her clients, he had to accept that, so, as a final leap of faith, there he was, in that expensive restaurant, staring at a folded napkin while he waited for you.

He didn't even want to buy a bouquet, but he did so almost reluctantly. He was tired, he didn't want to know anything more about dating, just seeing couples irritated him to the bone. He became somewhat bitter, no doubt.

A breath escaped his lips, you were taking a while. "My God..." he muttered under his breath, his fingers drumming on the white-clothed table.

According to Lucy, you hadn't found your perfect match yet because you were the pickiest in the room, but Harry thought maybe he'd been fooled again.

And by the same damn woman.