For the rest of their time in the bowling alley, they drank beer, ate nachos, and talked about everything but the thing they were both thinking about. She told him about Jamila’s idea, and the birthday cake they’d had for one of the other regular volunteers that week; he told her about the protest signs he’d seen that week that had almost made him laugh out loud on national television. And every time they made eye contact, they both looked away, like if their eyes met for more than a few seconds, they’d have to stop talking and laughing and pretending that everything between them hadn’t completely changed in the past hour.

They finished the game—Olivia won handily, though Max had gotten a lot better over the course of the game—and Max touched Olivia’s hand.

“You ready to take off? Or do you want to hang out here some more?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s go. I have no cake at home, or even pie, but I do have ice cream, if that tempts you?”

Max grinned at her.

“You are very good at tempting me, Olivia Monroe.”

They got in his car in the parking lot and were both quiet as they drove back to her house. Then, just as they got off the freeway, Max cleared his throat.

“I meant everything I said back there. In case you were wondering.”

Olivia turned to look at him.

“I thought you did.”

After all of her doubts over the last week, somehow she hadn’t doubted that for a moment.

“Oh. Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. It had been spontaneous and heartfelt and like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She’d had men fall in love with her before—or at least, tell her they had. And she’d fallen in love, too. But she’d always felt like she had to hide parts of herself with all of those men: her ambition, her enthusiasm, her body. Sometimes all of the above. But for someone to really see her, to want her, to love her, the true Olivia, like Max did . . . it all felt brand-new. She had no idea how to respond.

“I don’t want you to think . . . You took me by surprise, that’s all. I didn’t realize . . . well, any of that.”

Max reached over and took her hand.

“I know I caught you off guard. But I’m glad you know now.” He grinned at her. “How about we go back to your house, eat some ice cream, make out like those teenagers around us were all doing, and finally, at long last, I can let you drag me back to your bedroom. Does that sound good?”

She slid her hand into his. That was exactly what she needed right now.

“That sounds great.”

Chapter Eleven

A few weeks later, Max glanced through his calendar during his regular Tuesday lunchtime meeting with Kara. Everything looked normal, except for the weekend. There must be some mistake.

“Why am I on flights to and from San Francisco on Friday and Sunday? Was that some mistake?”

Kara gave him that look he hated, the one he always tried to avoid getting. The “why am I working for this man when I’m so much smarter than him?” look.

“Because, sir, you have two events this weekend in the Bay Area, remember? Friday afternoon right after you get in you have a meeting with a group of teachers and students in Oakland, then that dinner with the tech people, and Saturday night you’re doing the big party fundraiser in San Francisco.”

Kara was right, she was so much smarter than him. How the hell had he managed to forget this? He and Wes had even had conversations about it—Wes was going to be at the fundraiser, too. But this would mean he’d spend the entire weekend away from L.A. Which would mean he would have two whole weeks away from Olivia.

“Shit. Yeah, now I remember.” What if he flew down to L.A. after the fundraiser on Saturday night, and then back to DC from there on Sunday afternoon? That was, if there was a flight late enough Saturday night from San Francisco to L.A., and if the fundraiser didn’t go too long for him to get on that flight, and if Olivia didn’t mind that he’d get to her house after midnight on a Saturday night and fly out again twelve hours later. But he couldn’t make a plan like that without telling his staff why he needed a twelve-hour detour to L.A.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Kara asked him.

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just completely forgot I wasn’t going to be in L.A. this weekend. I left my good pair of running shoes at my house, and I was looking forward to picking them up.”

He had left his good pair of running shoes at his house, but he almost always left them in L.A.

“Oh, we can get someone in the L.A. office to pick them up and send them to meet you in the Bay Area, that’s easy.”

He brushed that away.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure the L.A. staff has better things to do than pick up my shoes. I should just order another pair to leave here in DC anyway. Okay, what else do we need to talk about?”

They ran through the rest of his schedule for the week, but the whole time he could feel the emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t going to get to see Olivia this weekend. He pretended he was looking up something else and flipped through his calendar, and realized he’d seen her at least once a week for the past three months. He only wished it had been more.