Olivia brushed that off.
“Please don’t apologize. I should have expected this to happen this morning; I was naive not to. Can you tell me . . .” She didn’t even know how to phrase this. “How bad will it get?”
She didn’t know why she was asking this of Kara, a woman she’d never met, or even talked to before, and not Max, her boyfriend. But then, maybe it was because she already got the sense that Kara might know the truth more than Max would.
Kara’s voice softened.
“I don’t think it’ll be that bad—probably a flurry of phone calls over the next day or so, and then there will be another big story of the day, and people will lose interest. There might be some racial elements to some of the stories, though—I just want to prepare you for that.”
Yeah, she’d expected that.
“I figured there would be. I just didn’t know if the calls and stuff would go on for, like, days, or weeks or months.”
If it went on for months . . .
“Don’t worry, it shouldn’t last that long. Though . . .” Kara paused. “There might be a rush to get more pictures of the two of you together. You can do it whatever way you want; it could be easier to just get that over with early on, but I understand if you may not want to do that.”
Olivia tried to imagine that. Her and Max, out to dinner, and then walking out of the restaurant to an army of paparazzi. That sounded like a nightmare.
“I’ll . . . I’ll think about that.” The phone rang again, and she heard Ellie pick it up in her office. “I should go; I think that was another reporter calling for me. Not that I want to talk to them, but . . .”
Kara laughed.
“I understand. And hopefully the calls will quiet down soon. I’ll make a number of calls as soon as I hang up. Also, Ms. Monroe—”
Olivia broke in.
“Olivia, please.”
Kara laughed.
“As the senator will tell you, I tend to stick with formality. But I’m going to make sure the senator gives you my contact information; I’m often more reachable than he is, so please feel free to contact me at any time if there’s an issue, okay?”
Did that mean Kara expected there to be an issue? No, don’t think that way, Olivia. She was probably just planning for all contingencies; she seemed like that kind of person.
“Okay, will do. And thank you. Thanks very much.”
Seconds after she hung up the phone, Ellie ran into her office, a broad grin on her face.
“Oh no,” Olivia said. “What did you say to those reporters?”
Ellie laughed.
“Nothing, nothing, I just told them all you were unavailable in my most Southern accent. They almost purred at me. Men are so easy that way. No, it’s something else: that was Clementine calling—they want us to pitch them for some of their IP work!”
Olivia jumped up from her desk, and she and Ellie threw their arms around each other.
“When?” Olivia asked, when they finished jumping up and down.
“Not for a few weeks, their general counsel is going on vacation, so we have some time. They’re emailing us the details now.”
Olivia sat down at her desk and rubbed her hands together. This was the big chance they’d been waiting for. Who cared about a handful of phone calls from reporters now?
But . . .
“Ellie, I know we talked about this when I was deciding whether to go public with Max, but . . . what if this whole thing affects our firm? What if people think I’m not serious about my job, or that my focus is on my relationship, not my career, and don’t want to hire us?” She put her head in her hands. “I made that decision too fast; I shouldn’t have done it.”
Ellie dropped into the chair across from her.
“Liv, honey. Part of the reason we started this firm in the first place was that we were tired of caring what a bunch of assholes think about us, remember? The assholes will think what they think, but we don’t want to work for assholes anyway—better to have something like this to show us who they are. And plus . . .” Ellie winked at her. “Did you ever think this might be excellent publicity for us?”
She hadn’t thought of that, as a matter of fact.
“But, El—it feels gross, somehow, for us to get publicity and business because of who my boyfriend is.”
She’d always done everything, gotten everything, because of her own hard work and on her own merits. It had never occurred to her to try to use her relationship with Max for her own gain.
“Do you think two guys who started their own law firm wouldn’t use their rich daddy’s name and connections to get ahead?” Ellie asked. “No, of course not. We all have to use anything that’s to our advantage in this life. Of course you didn’t go public with Max to get us business, you and I both know that. But if some news stories about your new boyfriend give us the opportunity to make sure people know that we’re damn good lawyers, it’s just our way of making lemonade out of the lemons that are the dozens of phone calls we’ve already gotten this morning.” She grinned. “At least one of the stories already out about you calls you an accomplished Harvard-educated lawyer—just the kind of branding we like to see.”
Ellie, as usual, had an excellent point.
“Make sure you answer the phone ‘Monroe and Spencer!’” Olivia said.
Ellie grinned.
“Oh, I have been.”
* * *
* * *
Wes looked up from his phone as Max walked into their apartment.
“If it isn’t ‘now-taken Max Powell’ as I live and breathe!”
Max dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, will you?” He really wasn’t in the mood to joke about this.
Wes laughed at him.
“These headlines are cracking me up. ‘Max Powell, off the market!’ ‘Has the bachelor senator given out a rose?’ ‘Just who is the woman who won Max Powell’s heart?’” Wes laughed again. “Wait, here’s another one—”
Max stopped him before he could go on.
“I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’ve heard enough of them already today.”
Even though Kara had told him she thought people would be interested, he didn’t expect this level of interest in his dating life at all. He’d expected maybe one or two articles about it, but nothing like the volume that there’d been only that day. All of it had been mostly positive, which his staff was happy about, but that didn’t really matter to him—what mattered was that Olivia didn’t seem happy about it at all.
Wes turned to look at him as he went into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong? You knew this was going to happen, right?”
Max got a beer out of the fridge and shook his head.
“I knew something would happen, I just didn’t realize people would care this much.” He dropped down on the couch next to Wes. “I don’t care about the headlines about me, whatever. But when they talk about Olivia like that, it makes me so angry. Especially since I told her it wouldn’t really be a big deal, and . . . now I feel like a jackass.”
Wes’s eyes widened.
“You told her it wouldn’t . . . Okay, well, in the grand scheme of things, you’re right. This should all blow over in a few days. Maybe even tomorrow, depending on what else happens in politics tonight. Did you tell her that?”
Max shook his head.
“I haven’t even talked to her—she talked to Kara earlier, but we’ve been playing phone tag all day—I called her as soon as I could, but it went to voice mail, then when she called back, I was in the middle of a TV hit. I just tried her again, and nothing.”
He’d texted her an apology as soon as Kara had told him what was going on, and Olivia had said it was okay, she was dealing with it. But he hated that he’d given her something to deal with.
Wes picked
up the remote.
“Don’t stress. You’ll make it up to her this weekend.”
Max shrugged.
“I hope so.”
He could tell Wes felt bad for him, though, because he turned the TV from MSNBC to baseball. He even clicked past soccer to land on it.
After thirty minutes of watching soccer with his phone in his hand, Olivia finally called. He jumped up and went into his bedroom before answering.
“Hey. I hate this, I’m so sorry,” he said when he picked up.
“Well, saying ‘no comment’ that many times isn’t how I thought I’d spend my Monday, but I’ll survive,” she said. He could tell she was trying to joke about this, but she sounded off. She had a tense, wary tone to her voice. Like she was steeling herself up for what was to come.
“I really thought no one would actually care about this, but I was wrong,” he said. “But Kara thinks it should all blow over soon—Wes thinks so, too. So it’s not just me this time.”
She sort of laughed at that.
“Thanks, Kara told me that, too. And I hope she’s right. By the end of the day, Ellie and I both became experts at figuring out who was press within a second or so on the phone, so at least that’s something. Oh!” Her voice changed. The life came back to it. “Here’s some actual good news—we’re going to get to pitch Clementine in a few weeks! I’ve been dying to get an in there. I ran into Bruce Erickson last week at the community center, and when he asked me how the firm was going, I mentioned that our expertise would be a perfect fit for Clementine, and he connected me with a friend of his there. Keep your fingers crossed for us—this could be the big break Monroe and Spencer has been looking for.”
He hoped that excited tone in her voice was there to stay.
“Fingers and toes crossed,” he said. “It’s fantastic that Bruce hooked you up like that.”
She laughed.
“Well, let’s hope it bears fruit. Speaking of, I have to run—I told Jamila I’d help her out with a bulk produce pickup tonight.”
He was glad she was going to be with Jamila tonight, but God did he wish he could be with her.
“Okay, talk to you later. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said.
As soon as he hung up, he picked up the phone again. Carrot cake this time, maybe? Or coconut?
Chapter Sixteen
On Thursday of the following week, Max called Olivia a few seconds after Kara left his office.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Olivia said when she answered the phone.
He smiled just at the sound of her voice. Thank God it didn’t have that tight, anxious pitch it had last week. He’d hated that sound in her voice, and he’d hated even more that he’d done that to her. And it had killed him to be so far away from her in those first few days when it was all so stressful. Just remembering that made him hesitate. Maybe his great idea wasn’t so great after all.
“Max, what is it?” she said.
“I had an idea,” he said. “But . . . if it doesn’t work, just tell me, okay?” He probably should have waited to run it by Olivia first, before he’d told Kara.
“Okay,” she said. “What is it?”
He grabbed a pen so he could doodle on his notepad.
“Well, next week is the Fourth of July.”
He’d have a whole week of recess, though a lot of that was going to be full of travel to fundraisers and party events. He’d still get to see Olivia a lot more than he would in a normal week, though.
“I know it’s the Fourth of July,” she said, amusement in her voice. “Was that it?”
He laughed.
“No, that wasn’t it! It’s this: for the past few years, I’ve done a volunteer thing on the Fourth, where I would bring some people from my staff, do some good, get some easy publicity for whatever nonprofit I was helping, and yes, some easy publicity for me, too. This year, it was going to be to help build furniture and toys for a foster-care center.”
“‘Was’?” Olivia asked.
Max took a gulp of water.
“Yeah, ‘was’—they just called Kara and said they had a fire; everyone is okay, but the building flooded. We’re going to reschedule for when they’re all moved back in, because they’ll need our help more than ever, but of course, next week is too soon. So here’s my idea. What if I came to your food pantry to help cook? With you, I mean. This seems like the perfect way for the two of us to be in public together again without it being a zoo. But if you don’t want that, I understand. I’ll be at the community center later this summer for one of the town halls, so we could always wait until then.”
Kara had told him the week before that he and Olivia should go out somewhere in public again in L.A. when he was home, just to get the inevitable second set of photos over with. But last weekend Olivia had seemed so exhausted he hadn’t even wanted to bring it up. Instead, they’d spent almost the entire weekend in his house; relaxing, working, watching movies, and just being together. It had been wonderful.
But he didn’t want them to feel stuck inside his house every weekend—the whole reason he’d wanted to go public was so they could go more places together.
“That is a good idea,” she said slowly.
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while. Max just waited.
“This will be really good publicity for them,” she said. “Especially since people tend to volunteer and give money to food banks more during the holidays than the summer. And summer is such a difficult time for food insecurity, with kids home from school and not getting free lunch. No matter what, you should definitely do this. I’ll text Jamila and find out the right contact info for your office to use. But can I . . . think about whether to come with you?”
He’d probably get used to Olivia’s reluctance to make decisions without some sort of waiting period and matrix at some point. He tamped his irritation down; it made sense that she’d need more time.
“Of course,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
A week later, they were in the back seat of his car together, on their way to the community center. His aide Andy was driving, and another member of his L.A. staff, Brittany, was in the passenger seat.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
Olivia looked around the car and held tight to his hand.
“I think so,” she said in a low voice. “I’m glad you’re going to get to see the food pantry. I did always want to bring you there.” She glanced into the front seat. “But maybe not like this.”
She straightened her dress; it was a blue-striped sundress—very patriotic. Her hair was in a big knot on the top of her head. She looked professional, well put together, and also beautiful. He squeezed her hand.
“It’ll be great. And the fundraiser tonight will be . . . well, we won’t have to stay long, at least.”
She laughed. They were going to a Fourth of July fundraiser that night at the home of one of the big party donors. He’d been to dozens, maybe hundreds of events like this by now, but he was really looking forward to going to this one with Olivia by his side.
“Good thing I have a different dress for that one,” she said. “Just in case I spill barbecue sauce on this one.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh God, that’ll be the picture every tabloid runs with. ‘Max Powell’s new girlfriend, the slob!’”
They both laughed. He was glad she could make jokes about all this. From what Kara said, after these pictures came out, there would be another small flurry of local news stories, and then everything would calm down. He hoped so, for Olivia’s sake. And he was pretty sure she was right; July would be such a busy news month that no one would have much time for gossip about the relationship of a senator who wasn’t even up for reelection this year.
Andy pulled into a parking spot outside the comm
unity center, and Andy and Brittany both jumped out of the car. Max and Olivia stayed put.
“Remember, I’ll come around the car to you, and . . .”
Olivia took off her seat belt and nodded to him.
“I know, then we’ll walk in together, I remember!”
Their doors opened simultaneously, and he smiled over his shoulder to her.
“Just wanted to make sure you knew I’d be right there by your side.”
He squeezed her hand one more time before they got out of the car.
* * *
* * *
Olivia smoothed her dress down again, then swung both of her legs together out of the car. She’d been practicing how to do that all week. She was barely on her feet when Max came around the car and took her hand. Oh, okay—she hadn’t realized they were going to do the hand-holding thing again. At least this would give her something to do with her hands as they walked into the building, with what felt like a hundred cameras around them. Fine, there were only four cameras. It was just that they all kept making that clicking sound, making it feel like more.
She’d never exactly been a person who sought a spotlight, nor had she been afraid of one. But she’d never experienced anything like this before. This kind of spotlight felt more like when little kids would hold magnifying glasses to catch the sunlight, and it would get so concentrated on one tiny pinpoint that it started a fire.
She forced herself to look up and smile at Jamila, who was standing with the head of the community center at the entrance to the building. Jamila looked more excited than Olivia had ever seen her. She’d been over the moon when Olivia had called her about Max’s idea.
“Oh my God, I cannot wait to call my boss!” she’d said. “No, wait, sorry—I’m going to email my boss.”
Olivia grinned. It was great to be able to help Jamila this way.
“Email him and cc the board president!” Olivia had said.
Party of Two Page 21
