“I was waiting for you for a while, okay? I didn’t want to waste time!”
She grinned and slid the condom on him and then lowered herself until he was poised just at her entrance. He rose up to meet her, pushed himself inside of her, and soon they were moving in sync, so fast and so hard she could barely breathe, she could barely think, she could only feel. And then everything felt so good that she could hardly move, but she had to keep moving and moving until there were fireworks behind her eyes and she smashed a pillow to her face to scream into it.
No wonder she’d missed him so much. Had anything ever felt this good? Had anything ever felt so right? She collapsed on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered in her ear.
Why did that make her feel even better than the sex had?
* * *
* * *
The next day, after a lazy breakfast in bed and some enthusiastic postbreakfast exercise, Max reached over and tickled Olivia.
“What are we going to do for the rest of the day?” he asked.
She looked back at him with a slow, satisfied smile.
“I thought you were booked with senator stuff all day,” she said.
He reached for his phone and pulled up his calendar.
“Not until midafternoon—I’m doing some local news interviews and then the fundraiser, but I’m free before that.”
She pulled his arm around her and rested her head on his chest.
“I was going to head over to Berkeley this afternoon to get a mani/pedi with my sister, so it looks like our free time coincides. What do you want to do?”
He brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.
“Weeell, we could stay here all day.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Any other ideas?”
“Hmmmm. Ooh! Yes!” He squeezed her hand. “I’ve taken you to some of my favorite L.A. places—how about you do the same for some of your Bay Area spots? It’s only ten a.m., so we have a few hours before I have to get back here to change and turn into a senator again.”
She sat up and turned to look at him with that smile he loved so much, the one where he could see the tiny dimple in her cheek.
“What a great idea.” Her smile got wider. “And I know exactly where I’m going to take you.”
Forty-five minutes later, they stood facing each other on a squeaky BART train. Olivia smiled up at him, a wicked expression on her face.
“When’s the last time you were on public transportation, hmm?” she asked him in a low voice.
Embarrassingly, he had to think about that.
“It’s got to have been at least . . . five years, maybe? Probably more. Oh God, that’s terrible, but I always drive everywhere in L.A. anyway, so it must have been some time when I was up here or somewhere else for a conference.”
Olivia laughed at him.
“Well, at least you look like you’re blending in.”
He looked down at himself and shook his head. He didn’t have any of his fake glasses or his baseball hats with him on this trip, so he’d had to improvise so he wouldn’t get recognized. Jeans, T-shirt, and one of the tech company branded vests he’d been given at the dinner last night. With that, plus his unshaven face, he hoped he could pass as a tech bro.
They got off at Fruitvale Station in Oakland and walked around for a while until they reached a taco truck with a long, noisy line.
“Here we are!” Olivia parked them at the end of the line. “Best tacos in the Bay Area. Maybe all of California.”
“That’s a bold statement, don’t you think?” Max asked her.
She nodded.
“Oh, very bold, and obviously there are some incredible tacos in L.A., which which is why it’s debatable, but you’ll see when you have them how good they are.”
He put his arm around her as they waited in line.
“I guess I will. But I thought you didn’t like places you had to stand in line to eat?”
She brushed that off.
“Taco trucks are different, you know that.”
He didn’t argue with her. Right now, he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be than standing here with her, in the sunshine, with nowhere he had to be for hours.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“This was a great idea,” he said.
* * *
* * *
They’d been standing there for about ten minutes, inching closer and closer to the tacos, when Olivia felt Max stand up straight.
And then, very slowly, he leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“I just realized that I know the woman standing right behind us. She’s a reporter with the San Francisco Chronicle, she’s interviewed me a few times. I don’t quite look like my senator self today, but . . .”
Olivia froze, and then nodded slowly.
“Okay. Um, do you want to go?”
Max looked at her like she’d asked him if the sky looked green.
“And deny myself the chance to have the best tacos in the Bay Area, maybe all of California? Are you kidding me?” He pressed his lips together and paused for a moment. “But do you want to go? We can if you want to.”
She thought about that for a minute. The smart thing to do would be to leave right now, so the reporter didn’t recognize Max and blow their secret. Especially because the two of them had been standing there hand in hand for the past ten minutes; it would be pretty obvious to anyone who saw them that they were together. They never did that when they were out in public together in L.A., but somehow in the Bay Area, away from their regular lives, it felt like they could do whatever they wanted. And she didn’t want to stop. She shook her head.
“We came all this way. And the tacos smell so good.” She put her hand on his stubbly cheek. She kind of liked him all scruffy like this. “Don’t you have an embarrassing cousin who lives in the Bay Area anyway? Peter, right? He works in advertising or something?”
He kissed her on the cheek and smiled at her.
“Mmm, yes, yes I do, thanks for reminding me.”
Max kept his back to the reporter for the next five minutes until they got to the front of the line, and Olivia kept trying to remember to call him Peter, which just made them both giggle. Max ordered two of everything on the menu, which she’d known he would do before they even discussed it, and they claimed a corner of a picnic table.
“Are we going to take the tacos to go, or eat here and tough it out?” Max asked her.
She grinned at him.
“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
He reached for her hand and held on tight.
“I’m so glad we have,” he said.
She looked into his warm, kind, mischievous eyes.
“Me, too,” she said.
* * *
* * *
Max felt that usual burst of adrenaline as he strode into the hotel and toward the ballroom for the fundraiser. He loved this part of his job. He gave a damn good speech, and he knew it, and he knew he was going to do it tonight, too. He turned to grin at his two staff members who were there with him, and then sighed. Georgia and Zachary were both great at their jobs, but he wished he had Olivia next to him tonight instead.
That morning and afternoon together had been so fun and relaxed, he’d wished it didn’t have to end. She’d looked so happy when they finished their pile of tacos that he hadn’t wanted to leave her. He was really glad, though, that she’d be there in the hotel waiting for him tonight, after this fundraiser was over. Even though he enjoyed events like this, they took a lot out of him. That wasn’t something he’d expected when he first started a life in politics. He’d always been an extrovert, he’d always been good at parties, but politi
cal events were on a whole different plane than anything else he’d experienced. He had to be on all the time; he had to give every single person who wanted to talk to him his full attention; he had to show them all the Max Powell they’d come for. And it wasn’t that he resented any of that—he wanted to do that, he liked meeting people, he wanted to hear their stories and give of himself to them. But he hadn’t realized how exhausting it would be, every time. He was glad he wasn’t going to have to go back to a lonely hotel room tonight.
He walked into the greenroom and snapped his mind away from Olivia and onto this fundraiser tonight. After the parade of likely boring speeches, it would be a zoo of picture taking with donors, and glad-handing and chatting with all of the other politicians in the room. These things were part of the job in any election year, even one where he wasn’t up for reelection. Thank goodness Wes would be at this one—not that they’d even get to really talk to each other, but at least he’d have someone to make eye contact with when one of the speeches got boring, or annoying, or laughable, which happened every single time.
After the usual rigmarole with the organizers, they ushered him onstage, where the governor introduced him to lots of cheering. Max went on and gave an abbreviated version of the same speech he’d been giving at these things all year—he always tried to keep his speeches short, punchy, and just a little funny. He ended on a laugh line, waved at the crowd, and went backstage with a smile on his face, while their laughter echoed behind him. He walked past a group of press, and . . . yep, that reporter from the taco truck was there. He grinned as he made his way into the reception area.
“Max Powell, as I live and breathe.” A woman with a very large hairdo and a lot of makeup pulled him into a hug, and he laughed and hugged her back.
“Congresswoman Strong! I didn’t know you were going to be here!” This was a benefit of events like this; he got to see some friends he didn’t get to see much of anymore.
“Well, you know, I’m retired now, so I get to pick and choose which of these things I go to, but I couldn’t miss tonight.”
Twenty minutes later, as Max chatted with the mayor of San Francisco, an older white man and a cheerful-looking Black woman joined their group.
“Senator, have you met the mayor of Berkeley?” The mayor of San Francisco gestured toward the older white man. “Mayor Emmitt, Senator Powell.”
He and the mayor shook hands, and then the Black woman behind the mayor held out her hand to him.
“Senator, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alexa Monroe, the mayor’s chief of staff.”
“Nice to meet you, Alexa,” he said automatically. He turned back to the mayor, and then his head snapped back to Alexa.
Alexa . . . Monroe?
If he had any doubts, the knowing smile in her eyes removed them. He’d been so focused over the last hour, he’d completely forgotten Olivia’s sister would be here.
“Great speech tonight,” she said.
He grinned at her.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” They smiled at each other for a second, though she had a slight measuring-him-up look on her face. He suddenly felt nervous. Did he pass muster?
He made himself turn back to her boss.
“I’ve heard you’re doing excellent things in the Berkeley school system with restorative justice,” he said. “It’s a good example for others who think it may not work.”
The mayor smiled as Zachary snapped a picture of the four of them.
“I hope that’s the case,” the mayor said. “Though there’s often such a bias against programs like that. I have high hopes for your criminal justice reform bill, you know.”
Olivia’s sister smiled and nodded behind him. Why did he feel so much pressure on how he answered her boss?
“I have high hopes for it, too,” he said. “I’m not sure if the rest of Congress is where we are yet, but it’s our job to convince them, isn’t it? But I’m not sure if anyone in my office has talked to you about my town hall plan for the summer—I want to hear from youths themselves about what they need to recover and thrive. I want this to be about them, not the politicians, but I’ll make sure we consult you about plans.” He glanced at Alexa. “My office will be in touch soon.”
She handed him her card.
“Just in case you don’t know how to find me,” she said to Max with a straight face.
Georgia tapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I have to pull the senator away for a moment; he’s needed in the photo line.”
There was another round of handshakes as he said good-bye.
“I hope I get to talk to all of you again, and soon.” He let his eyes twinkle at Alexa as they shook hands, and her smile widened.
He walked away with Georgia toward the photo area.
Had Alexa liked him? He hoped she liked him. He knew Olivia and her sister were close, and it would matter to Olivia if Alexa thought he was some pompous douchebag.
He walked by Wes on the way to the photos, but Wes was in the middle of a conversation, so all they had time for in passing was a quick fist bump. Even that, though, felt like a respite. To see someone who actually knew him, whom he could be real with, in the midst of this need to constantly be on, was like for one brief second someone had opened a window in a hot, stuffy room. The relief he felt even walking by Wes made him realize how great it would be to have Olivia here with him tonight. If she were here by his side, he could nudge her when he wanted to—but couldn’t—roll his eyes, he could exchange “we’ll talk about this later” looks with her when someone said something wild, or he could laugh with her when something ridiculous happened. It was incredible to even think about that.
He didn’t see Alexa again for the rest of the night, until he ran into her and the mayor just as he was leaving.
“Mayor Emmitt, and . . . Alexa, right? I hope you had a good night.”
They all shook hands again.
“It was a great night,” Alexa said. “The speeches weren’t too long, some of them gave me a lot of hope for the future, and I got to meet some really interesting people, so I’d call that a winner.”
He smiled at her as he turned to walk out the door.
“I got to meet some people I’ve wanted to meet for a while, so it was a great night for me, too. Have a safe drive back to Berkeley.”
Max walked back into the hotel room twenty minutes later to find Olivia sitting on the bed, fully dressed, with her laptop on her lap.
“So.” He kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the bed next to her. “What did your sister think of me?”
Olivia’s eyes widened. They widened just a little too much, as a matter of fact.
“Oh, you got to meet her? I wasn’t sure if that would happen, I thought the fundraiser might be too big for . . .”
He waved his finger at her.
“I’m not buying a single second of this, you know. I am one hundred percent certain your sister texted you before she even left the ballroom. I had to meet a member of your family, and I had to do it without you by my side, so I deserve to know what she said.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Come on, I’m dying here.”
She shook her head and laughed.
“Damn it, you’re giving me those puppy dog eyes again. Fine, she liked you.”
He waited, but she didn’t say anything else.
“‘She liked you’? That’s all I get? No, absolutely not, I know there was more to it.” Olivia glanced toward her phone, and he reached for it.
“Come on, there was a lot more. Just for that ‘she liked you,’ you have to show me the texts!”
Olivia laughed and unlocked her phone.
“There was just one text, right after she met you, and fine, you can see it.”
Just met you know who! You probably figured out that I was a little skeptical of him, but I was
impressed; good speech, not an asshole behind the scenes like most people like him would be, was polite to me even before he realized I was your sister (and then gave me a big smile once he did realize). As hot as he is on TV, too.
Oh, but I know what you meant about his shoes.
Saw him again on the way out! Can’t wait to meet him again, this time with you there too!
“What about my shoes?”
Olivia snatched the phone back from him.
“Shit, there was only one text the last time I looked! I was working and I didn’t see the other two come in!”
He frowned at her.
“I believe you, but what does she mean, she knows what you meant about my shoes? What’s wrong with my shoes?”
Olivia sighed and pointed at his shoes.
“Those brown suede shoes of yours. They’re terrible, Max. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I keep wanting to sneak into your closet and throw them away. How is it that you have such great suits and such terrible shoes?”
He turned to look at the shoes in question and then back to Olivia.
“My, um . . . mom helped me buy my suits. She didn’t pay for them,” he said over Olivia’s giggles, “but once I became DA she told me I had to start dressing the part, so she found me a guy at a store she knows and I went in and he measured me and had me try on a bunch of stuff and then I gave him my credit card number and then he sent four suits, ten ties, and twenty shirts to my house, with firm instructions on what went with what. Once a year I go back for him to measure me again and he sends over more clothes. But whenever I go there, I go in sneakers and use his shoes to try on the clothes; no one ever told me what to do about shoes, so I just kept wearing what I’d been wearing.”
Olivia stared at him, an expression he couldn’t decipher on her face.
“What is it?” he asked. “I can get new shoes, just tell me what to buy.”
She took his hand.
“I love you.” She looked down at their hands, then back up at him. “And it still feels early, but I can’t ignore it anymore. I love you.”
Party of Two Page 17
