She took a step away from him, and that stony look was on her face again.

“I’m making a big deal out of nothing, is that what you think?” she said. “You ambushed me! In front of hundreds of people and dozens of reporters! I’d be happy to give that kid advice; I was planning on it—privately, afterward. I’ve helped out many kids like him, as a matter of fact—I’ve volunteered and mentored and given them advice and made connections. But I do that as my decision, not yours! When I said I wanted to be an example to kids like him, I didn’t mean like this!” She shook her head. “How could you even think I would want to stand up in front of the whole world and talk about all of that? After these past few months, when my past was thrown in my face—all for you, I might add—and you wanted it to start all over again?”

Fuck. He’d gotten this all wrong.

“No, Olivia, that’s not what I wanted. I just thought you might— ”

But she wasn’t listening to him.

“Does it give you some sort of street cred, or something? Having a girlfriend who got arrested? Is that why you paraded me around today, in front of that group? So they might trust you more? So they might vote for you next time?”

Now she was making him mad.

“That’s really fucking unfair and you know it. I didn’t want you there today for any of those reasons—I wanted you there today because I like having you there with me, because I love you, because this was an event that was important to me and I wanted to share it with you. I thought you wanted to be there! I’m sorry I put you on the spot, but the timing and setting seemed perfect.” He remembered something, one of the reasons he’d thought it was okay to bring it up today in the first place. “Plus, you talked about it at that city council meeting a few years ago, I don’t know why it’s so different.”

Olivia clenched her jaw so hard he could see it from across the hallway.

“It was my choice to talk at that city council meeting, and I had the freedom to talk about it in my own way. And that was before my name was already in the fucking tabloids! No one cared one iota about me two years ago at the Berkeley City Council meeting! But now, today, if I said one single thing in public about my arrest, too many fucking people would care! They would ask me questions, they would write articles about it for weeks, they would call my office over and over again, and I don’t want any of that. I’ve never wanted any of that.”

He couldn’t ignore the implications of that. He really hoped she wasn’t saying what it felt like she was saying.

“I thought . . . from what we talked about in Hawaii, anyway . . . that you saw a future for us. Did you think that you and I would stay together and you would stay in the public eye—as much as you don’t want that, that’s what would happen—and you would never talk about it?”

“Yes!” she yelled. She stopped and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t get that far in thinking about it. But what I do know is that if I ever did address it, I wouldn’t do it your way, where you just leap into something without thinking about the implications, say the first thing that comes to your mind, and smile and charm your way out of every hole you dig yourself in.”

That wasn’t fair. He started to break in, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I can’t do things like that; I’m a Black woman, I don’t ever get the benefit of the doubt in the way someone like you does. I can’t afford to make split-second decisions and assume they’ll work out. I have to plan, and think, and plan again, and strategize. I prepare like hell for everything I do, so if I did ever decide to say anything publicly about the time I was arrested as a teenager, and the aftermath, and the way I recovered and flourished after that, I would prepare like hell for that, too. What I wouldn’t do is stand up at a few seconds’ notice at a community center and say whatever came into my head, because that’s not how I live my life.”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “That’s how you live your life, though, isn’t it? You just make impulsive, snap decisions all the time, and maybe they work for you, but you can’t make them for other people like you keep doing for me.”

He’d made her cry. He’d really fucked this one up, hadn’t he?

“Olivia, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just thought it was the perfect opening, and you were right there, and I know how much you care about teens like that, and I wanted everyone to see how warm and caring and smart and accomplished you are, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to show the world who you really are.”

He walked toward her with his arms open, but she shook her head.

“What if . . . what if I don’t want to show the world who I really am? What if I don’t want the world to know anything about me? What if I’m so tired of smiling all the time and wearing perfect outfits whenever I leave the house and thinking about what the world thinks of me?”

The tears were still in her eyes, but she also looked . . . determined. Like she’d come to some sort of decision.

He didn’t like that look on her face. He didn’t like it at all.

“Olivia. What are you saying?”

She shook her head.

“Max, I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He stepped toward her again, but she took a step backward, and he froze.