I will only take you up on this on very limited occasions, and will never push it.

3. I will talk through my decisions with you, instead of just leaving you hanging for days or weeks or months—we are a team and I trust you to listen to me.

4. I will always support you in your pie- (or cake-?) making ventures.

5. I will attempt to learn how to relax and be more flexible—bear with me.

6. We will renegotiate this agreement once a year every year in August, because I recognize that feelings and needs can change.

Some of my needs may change, but my feelings for you will not.

7. I will love you for the rest of my life.

“I mean every single word. I swear,” he said. “And if there’s anything else you need, or want to add, please, please just tell me.”

She looked down at the contract, then up at him. A smile spread across her face, and her eyes swam with tears.

“My feelings for you won’t change, either, Max. I’ve missed you so much.”

He practically jumped over his far-too-large desk and pulled her into his arms.

“I kept trying to think of living days and weeks and months without you, and it all seemed so empty and meaningless. I love you so much.”

She looked up at him with so much joy and laughter and love in her face that he almost couldn’t believe it.

“I love you so much, too.”

He kissed her like he’d never kissed her before, like he would be able to kiss her every day for the rest of his life.

Finally, he led her over to the couch, and they sat there, her head against his chest.

“I tried to get over you, but it was so hard.” She let out a half sob, half laugh. “So much of this was my fault, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how hard all of that was for me so we could come up with a solution earlier.”

He stroked her hair and kissed her again.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what to say. It took me two weeks and four conversations with Wes before I realized what I wanted to tell you, and then four days to write barely a hundred words that I hoped expressed some of what I thought and felt and wanted.”

She lifted her head.

“I saw you on Maddow that night. When that guy tried to trap you into becoming vegan. I was sure you were going to do it, too.”

He laughed. He couldn’t believe she’d been watching that night.

“I was so mad, and I was so ready to take that asshole up on his dare, and then what you said about taking other people and their autonomy into account flashed into my mind, and I stopped myself.” He grinned at her. “And the wild thing was, it made for a much better answer, and he had no idea how to respond to me. Thanks for that.”

She gripped his fingers.

“I almost didn’t even read what you wrote—I was so scared to hope that I wouldn’t let myself read the attachment at first. When I finally did read it, I sat up all night thinking about it. I was going to email you back, but I wanted to see you, to really talk to you, first. I was going to wait until this weekend, but I texted Kara, to see what your schedule was like, and she said you were here all weekend. So I got on a red-eye last night and made it to DC first thing this morning.”

Speaking of Kara . . .

Max jumped up off the couch and looked at his calendar. It was somehow, magically, empty.

“Kara cleared my schedule for the rest of the day.” He pulled Olivia off the couch and handed her briefcase to her.

“Let’s get out of here. We need to celebrate, and I know just the place.”

Olivia held up her finger.

“Before we celebrate, I think we’re forgetting something.”

He laughed out loud and tossed her a pen.

“You’re right, we are. Would you like to sign first?”

She grinned at him and bent over their agreement, and signed her name with a flourish at the bottom. He pulled out his favorite pen and signed right next to hers. They both looked at their names, side by side, and smiled at each other.

“There, signed and dated.” He handed her their agreement, and she slid it into her briefcase. “Now, how would you feel about a slice of rich, decadent, luscious chocolate cake to celebrate?”

“How many layers?” she asked.

“Three,” he said.

She grinned.

“Perfect.”

Epilogue

They went back to Hawaii the next August during Max’s recess. The year had been both hard as hell and better than Olivia could have ever imagined. They’d each had to push themselves—and sometimes each other—to follow their contract, but it got easier and easier each time. His job and hers had both had big ups and big downs, and then big ups again; they’d both traveled far too much; they’d seen each other not at all enough. But almost without fail, they saw each other at least once a week, unless there was some sort of emergency that got in their way—which had happened only three times, twice on Max’s end and once on hers. One time she’d even surprised him and flown into DC for a night just to see him. She’d been to fundraisers and parties and town halls and concerts with him, and had actually found a number of them interesting, even fun—especially that time she’d managed to wangle an invitation for her sister and her husband, too. And she’d never, not for one second, doubted Max’s love for her.