Olivia picked up her drink.

“Put that on your platform.”

They grinned at each other.

“Is your family still in Northern California?” he asked.

“Yeah, my parents and my sister,” she said. “They’re thrilled I’m in L.A. now, let me tell you. You and my sister would get along well—she’s also obsessed with both food and politics. She emailed me a long list of all of her favorite places in L.A. before I got here, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to get to them.”

She had a tiny dimple in one cheek that only appeared when she smiled really big. How unexpected and charming.

“Now I want to see your sister’s list,” he said. “That must be weird for you, to be in a new place and needing advice from other people to figure out daily life, after being in New York for so long. I imagine you built a whole life there, with friends and work and everything else.” He hated the sad look that came over her face, so he hastened to give her an out. “Sorry if that’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to—I was just thinking about it because of how I sometimes feel in DC.”

She shook her head.

“No, it’s okay, you’re right. That makes sense you would feel that way, too—I can only imagine how weird life is for you.” She was quiet for a moment. “It was hard to leave a place where I built a whole life to go somewhere brand-new. I do have some friends here, and of course I work with one of my best friends. But she’s been living in L.A. for a long time, and she’s married, and has a kid, and has her own life here, so . . . it’s different, you know?” She shrugged. “Is that how it is for you, too?”

He nodded.

“It is. I’ve been in DC for . . . I guess just over a year now, but I feel like I barely know the city, and then when I come home, life here has gone on without me. I have a handful of good friends I’ve known for years, but these days my schedule is so weird I barely see them, and . . . well, it gets lonely.”

He hadn’t said this out loud to anyone. He’d barely even said it to himself. He didn’t know why he’d said it to Olivia, except she looked at him like she was really, truly listening to him.

“Yeah, that sounds hard.” She reached her hand back across the table, and it felt natural for him to slide his fingers into hers. “You can’t really say, ‘Yes, you should book a sitter so we can all have dinner two weeks from Friday,’ then two weeks from Friday you’re still on an airplane, because you couldn’t leave the Senate until some asshole finished spouting his nonsense.”

He laughed so hard at that people turned to stare again.

“That’s a very accurate way of describing my job.”

She grinned at him, then popped another fry in her mouth and made a face.

“I can’t stop eating these, even though they’re not very good. Kind of like In-N-Out fries—we all know they’re terrible, but that doesn’t stop me from eating a whole order.” She shook her head. “Maybe I just need to find some hobbies, or something.” She took a sip of water. “You grew up in L.A., right? Whereabouts?”

He was surprised she didn’t know this about him. Most people did.

“I did. In Beverly Hills.”

Her eyebrows shot up. She opened her mouth, paused, and then continued.

“I’m impressed that you know the Eastside so well, if you grew up over there.”

He shook his head at her.

“We both know that’s not what you were going to say. Come on, out with it.”

She looked down at her plate, then back up at him with a grin.

“Sorry, was I that obvious? I can’t help it, I grew up in the Bay Area in the eighties and nineties, I have a single reaction to hearing that someone grew up in Beverly Hills, and it’s— ”

“90210,” they said in unison, and laughed again. He used to hate telling people he grew up in Beverly Hills, but now that his whole background was on the Internet for the world to see, it made it easier.

“Anyway, I don’t live there anymore—I went to college at UCLA and have lived all over the L.A. area since then.”

“All done here?” The waitress didn’t wait for an answer and picked up their plates and swept them away. There was one last bite of burger on his plate he’d wanted. Oh well—they did have five pieces of pie coming.

“UCLA, of course. That explains the hat. I’m disappointed in this poor excuse for a disguise, you know. The same UCLA hat every time, and that’s where you actually went to college? Didn’t you ever think about something like a Yankees hat, or a USC hat, or something?”

He pulled the cap down over his face.

“Over my dead body.”

The waitress came back and slid the five plates of pie on the table.

“Here you go.”

Olivia stared at the pie-laden table.

“I can’t believe we actually ordered five different kinds of pie, but at least I wore a red shirt instead of a white one.” She shook her head. “But I have a feeling this pie will stain no matter what color the shirt.”

He pushed the cherry pie toward her.

“Stick with me, kid. One of the first skills they teach you in politician school is how to eat food around other people without spilling—even the messiest food.” He handed her a napkin. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll teach you.”