“No offense,” she said through gasps, “but that was one of the weirdest dates I’ve ever been on. The middle part was good, the part with Dolly Parton and holding hands and all of that. But the beginning and the end were very stressful! I thought dating a famous person was supposed to be glamorous!”

He poked her in the arm.

“Oh, you think you were stressed? You didn’t have to stand there and take it while your friend Jamila looked me over like I was a piece of meat and she was measuring me up to see if I was good enough for you. Or try not to react when she was looking straight at me and made that face when she suddenly realized who I was!”

Thank God there was so much traffic that he didn’t really have to pay attention to the road, because when he thought about Jamila’s face at that moment, it set him off again.

Olivia reached for her phone, connected it to his car Bluetooth, and cranked up a Dolly Parton playlist.

“Thank God for Dolly,” she said. “See, she was the best part of the night.”

They spent the rest of the drive back to her house singing along with Dolly, and they could tell a bunch of the cars around them were doing the same thing.

They didn’t talk about any of the other events of the night until they got back to her house. He parked around the corner, and as they walked down the sidewalk, he reached for her hand. She hesitated, and looked around her quiet street before sliding her fingers through his.

“Sorry,” she said as they walked up to her door. “I guess I’m just not used to this yet. And still a little—or maybe a lot—paranoid.”

He shrugged.

“You have reason to be paranoid, don’t apologize. You notice that I’m still not parking in your driveway.”

She unlocked her front door and he followed her inside.

“I noticed.” She kicked her shoes off and walked into the kitchen. Max grinned and followed her. “I was terrified when Jamila saw us together. I felt like a teenager again, like I’d been caught. Then I remembered I wasn’t doing anything wrong, and also that Jamila is my friend, not my mom.”

Olivia turned to look at him and finally saw the box in his hands.

“What’s that?”

He looked down and pretended to be surprised.

“This? Oh God, I don’t know. What is this? I just saw it on the counter, what could it be?”

He flipped open the top and turned the box toward her.

“CAKE!” She stared at the cake then back up at him. “Is that for me?”

He grinned at her and opened the sides of the box so he could slide the cake out onto the counter.

“Who do you think it’s for? I got it this afternoon. I had a feeling tonight might be stressful—Dolly notwithstanding. I thought we both might need a pick-me-up afterward.” He picked up the cake cutter from where he’d left it on the counter, cut a fat slice, and slid it onto a plate.

“Yellow cake with chocolate frosting!” Olivia took a fork out of the drawer and took a big bite of the cake.

“Oh God. Oh God, this is just what I needed.”

She dropped the fork on the counter and wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you,” she said.

He tasted the sugar and butter and chocolate as he kissed her.

“I love you, too,” he said.

She stepped back and picked up the fork.

“And I really, really love yellow cake with chocolate frosting.”

He cut another slice and grabbed his own fork.

“So do I.”

Olivia woke up absurdly early the next morning to find Max standing over her.

“What’s wrong?” she said as she squinted up at him.

He bent down to kiss her.

“Nothing, I just have an early flight this morning back to DC, remember? I’m sorry I woke you up, but I have to go and I didn’t want to leave before saying good-bye.”

She sat up and kissed him again.

“I’m glad you woke me up.” She touched a finger to his cheek and brushed down his hair. “Have a good week. I’ll miss you.”

He kissed her hard on the lips, then stood up all the way.

“I’ll miss you so much. I’ll be in touch. About everything.”

He kissed her again and left. When she heard her front door open and close a few seconds later, she flopped back down on her bed with a long sigh.

She tried to drift back into sleep again, but even though it was just after six a.m. and she almost never woke up before seven thirty, she was wide awake. She missed Max’s warm, comfortable, soothing body next to her, and now all she could think about was the “everything” he’d meant. Maybe all hell had already broken loose and he hadn’t told her? No, Max would have told her, that wasn’t his style.

The problem was, this was a hell of a bigger deal to her than it was to Max. Max was already famous—this wasn’t going to change his life that much, maybe even at all. But it was going to change hers, at least somewhat. She just had no idea how much. Or what was going to happen next.

She threw back the covers with a sigh—there was no point in staying in bed and pretending she’d go back to sleep. She might as well drink some coffee and eat some leftover cake for breakfast.

Ten minutes later, she was back in her bedroom with a cup of very strong coffee and a big slice of cake. She took a sip of coffee and a bite of cake and smiled—the super chocolatey frosting cut through the bitterness of her coffee perfectly. She should definitely have cake for breakfast more often.