Party of Two

by Jasmine Guillory

“Okay, fine, what do normal people in normal relationships have to talk about?”

  Olivia looked sideways at him.

  “You don’t . . . I mean . . .” Why was her mind suddenly blank here? “Um, things like . . . money, children, family, work—you know, the hard stuff. You used to be a normal person; I know you’ve had other serious relationships. Didn’t you guys have conversations about this kind of stuff?”

  He shrugged.

  “I mean, I guess so, just as they came up, but not specifically. Let’s talk about it all now. Money: what’s mine is yours. Children: love them, but having them might be hard with two busy jobs, so we can explore. Family: your sister seemed to like me, except for the shoes; I’ll work on everyone else. My mom and sister will adore you; my dad will, too, he just won’t seem like it at first. Work: I feel like we’ve talked about this a lot, haven’t we? We’ve handled it okay for now, right? What else?”

  Olivia stared at him. He just smiled back at her.

  “Max, I . . . I wasn’t prepared for this right now! I need to think of questions to ask, and things that are important to me, and I want to find out what’s important to you, and you didn’t even touch on race or your specific job and all of the stuff I’d have to do because of that and the press and everything and I can’t do all of this when I just drank that whole pineapple!”

  Max laughed, and put his arm around her.

  “I know you think I rush into things, and maybe I do. And I know my job makes things complicated. But you know, I only rush into the big things when I know to my core that they’re right. I know to my core you’re right for me, Olivia Monroe.” He kissed her cheek. “But no, I won’t propose right now.”

  Olivia leaned her head against his chest. His words made her want to wrap her arms around him and not let go, and they filled her with panic at the same time. How did they get from pineapples full of rum to talking about marriage this quickly?

  Granted, she had thought about what it would be like to be married to Max. But she’d worried about how to be in the public eye, and how to keep that damn smile on her face, and if she’d have to lose some of herself in order to do everything involved with being a politician’s wife, and if it was all worth it. Was it all worth it?

  He tightened his grip around her waist, and she sighed. It all felt worth it when she was with him like this. She’d never had anyone love her this completely, this unconditionally, with this much certainty. And she’d never loved anyone like she loved Max. He threw himself into everything he did, and he did it all with such enthusiasm and joy. But he rushed into things, he so often didn’t think things through, and he was terrifyingly impulsive, which had already made life so much more stressful for her. Could she deal with that forever?

  Max got up and pulled her to her feet.

  “Come on—I think we’ve both recovered somewhat from those pineapples, and we’re supposed to go on that snorkeling trip in an hour, remember? Let’s go see some turtles.”

  Olivia forced herself to shake off the fears that had all descended on her. What was wrong with her? Hawaii was no place for that.

  “Oooh yes, I forgot about that.” She looked up at the cloudless sky and smiled. “Also, I have a bone to pick with you—I heard that there are some sort of special doughnuts in Hawaii, but we’ve been here hours now and I haven’t had one yet—what’s going on?”

  Max slapped his forehead.

  “Malasadas! Oh God, I’ve failed you. We’re going to stop to get some right after snorkeling, I promise.”

  Olivia smiled at the world. Sun, sea turtles, and sugar—could she ask for more? What had she even been so worked up about?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Thank you all for coming today, and for sharing so much with me. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I appreciate it more than I can say.” Max put his microphone down and waved to the Bakersfield crowd. He turned from side to side with his hand in the air and a smile on his face for the benefit of the sea of camera phones that looked back at him, and then stepped off the stage to take selfies with anyone who wanted one.

  It was the fourth, and second to last, of his statewide town hall meetings. Some of them had been difficult—he’d heard a lot of painful stories from teens and educators about the impact the school-to-prison pipeline had in their communities, and he’d been yelled at by more than one parent—but he’d also connected personally with advocates around the state, and had gotten excellent ideas for the future. Not only did he think he might be able to get some of those ideas through Congress, he’d also heard from some excellent sources that the governor of California was now planning to throw his support behind one of the state juvenile justice reform laws. He couldn’t believe he’d been so single-minded about his bill that he hadn’t broadened his scope to see how else he could accomplish his goals. He was so grateful to Olivia for this idea, and he couldn’t wait to get back to L.A. to tell her that in person.

  Plus, he couldn’t wait to see her. After their fantastic trip to Hawaii, they’d been able to spend only a few more days together in L.A. before he flew up to Sacramento to start this tour around the state, and that had been ten days ago. They hadn’t gone that long without seeing each other since their first date.

  He wished they were at the point where she could come with him on trips like this, even for part of the time. He couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it was to have her with him for those two events on the Fourth of July. When he’d looked out into the crowd and seen her smile, he felt like he could do anything and everything. He wanted that again. But even more than that, he wanted to be able to relax with her after events like this, when he got back to a lonely hotel room, both wired and exhausted. That vision of his future—of their future—felt so good to him, so real to him.

  Ever since that conversation on the beach, he’d become more and more certain he wanted to marry her. At least three or four times a day, he winced when he thought back to that moment he’d almost proposed to her, and how she’d reacted. His feelings were still hurt—of course he wanted her to celebrate and jump in feetfirst and not worry about anything but how much they loved each other. But he should have known she would hate a beach proposal like that, with people taking pictures of them like they had that other couple. And he also knew Olivia well enough by now to know she liked all of her i’s dotted and t’s crossed before she made any sort of decision, especially such a big one. Well, after the town hall in L.A., there would be a few days before he had to go back to DC—maybe they could have some of those Conversations about Big Issues she wanted to have.

  He wished he could drive straight back to L.A. tonight, but that would have been too much to ask of his local staff, who had been working all day to pull off this event. But tomorrow he’d be back in L.A., and tomorrow night he’d get to see Olivia again—before, during, and after the town hall. He couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  * * *

  When Olivia drove to the community center that Friday night, she felt like a kid on Christmas Eve. It had almost been two weeks since she’d seen Max, and that was far too long. In the time they’d been apart, all of her old doubts and worries had sprung up again. Was this all happening too fast? Was this too good to be true? It would be so good to see Max again; she always felt better when she was with him.

  She was nervous about this event, though. She’d said yes immediately when he brought it up in Hawaii, but that had been because of way too much of whatever was in that pineapple. When he’d brought it up in passing again, she felt like she couldn’t say no after having said yes. But the press had just relaxed on them, she hadn’t gotten a weird phone call all week, and part of her hoped she could stay out of sight and they’d forget about her. The problem was, if she and Max were in this for the long haul—and after that conversation on the beach in Hawaii, it seemed like they were—she couldn’t stay out of sight forever. So here she was.


  Had he been about to propose? She thought so at the time, but had she been imagining things? Had she forced an awkward conversation with him for no real reason? He hadn’t brought it up again, and neither had she, but she’d thought about it every day since it happened. Maybe now that he was home for a few days, they could talk about all of that. But first, she’d need to make it through tonight.

  At least Jamila was going to be there, and probably a few other people she knew from the food pantry. It would help to have friendly faces around, and hopefully even someone to sit with during the town hall, since she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be surrounded by Max’s staff.

  When she pulled up to the community center, her status as The Girlfriend was clear. One person waved her into the reserved parking area, and then another person escorted her to the “greenroom” to wait for Max.

  He and his whole entourage—it was a big one this time—walked in ten minutes before the event was scheduled to start. And for the life of her, Olivia couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. Max immediately crossed the room to her.

  “Hi,” he said under his breath. “I missed you.”

  There were people all around them, and she knew they were all looking at them, even if they pretended not to. She and Max couldn’t touch or even stand that close to each other. But the way he looked at her felt like a caress.

  “I missed you so much,” she said. His Hawaii sunburn on his nose had faded, and he was wearing that pale blue shirt and striped tie combination she particularly liked. And . . .

  “I like the shoes,” she said.

  He glanced down at his new shoes and blushed.

  “I hoped you might.” They grinned at each other. It was so good to be with him again.

  “Okay, everyone!” Someone with a very cheerful voice and perfectly straight hair stood by the door. “The community members are mostly here; we’ll just wait a few more minutes for stragglers and then get going.”

  Max’s staff always seemed deeply competent. Olivia liked that so much.

  “This’ll be fun,” Olivia said to Max as they walked down the hall toward the auditorium. “I haven’t really seen you do your thing since that first luncheon—Fourth of July was all softballs. I’m sure I’ll have some notes for you.”

  He looked at her sideways, and she giggled. The doors to the auditorium swung open, and Olivia started to step to the side so she could drop behind Max and out of the spotlight. But before she could do so, he took her hand.

  The hundreds of people inside scrambled to their feet, flashbulbs went off, and Max and Olivia walked inside, hand in hand. Knowing Max, he hadn’t planned for this in advance, he’d just grabbed her hand at the last second. She tried not to let her irritation show on her face. Instead, she forced a smile as Max gave high fives to the people in the crowd closest to him.

  As soon as they were toward the front of the room, Olivia let go of Max’s hand and looked around for somewhere to go. Jamila gestured to her from her seat at the side of the stage, where she sat with some of the staff from the center. Olivia made a beeline for her and then tried her best to fade into the background. But she knew that no matter how much she tried to disappear, it was impossible; everyone in this room knew who she was, and many of them were probably taking pictures of her right now. She had to look alert and interested and friendly and intelligent, and she had to keep a smile on her face the whole time. She felt the tension settle into her shoulders as she tried to do all of that. Shit, her shoulders—she had to think about her posture, too, didn’t she?

  The executive director of the center made a too-long speech that tested Olivia’s ability to keep that damn smile on her face. At one point she made eye contact with Max, who of course had a perpetually interested, intelligent smile on his face—how the hell did he do this? He had to deal with this every day, all day, didn’t he? He winked at her, almost imperceptibly, and she winked back.

  Finally, the executive director introduced Max, and Olivia smiled for real. She’d teased him about giving him notes about his speech, but he was good at this—really good at it. She’d heard parts of the speech before, of course, had seen bits of it on TV, but it was smart and substantial and also made it clear that he really wanted to hear from the audience, and cared what they had to say. And he was funny, too—he got everyone clapping and laughing again after the director had almost put them to sleep.

  Then the town hall part of the program started, and a bunch of Max’s staff dispersed through the crowd with microphones. Both adults and teens asked questions and raised ideas: about schools and how overcrowded they were, about health care, about after-school care, about jobs and job-training programs, about access to mental health services, about the police. He got some tough questions, but she was proud of him for how he handled them—he listened, he didn’t get defensive, and he gave honest answers whenever he could.

  And then a tall, lanky kid toward the back took a microphone.

  “My name is Jerome Thomas. I . . . um . . . last year I got in some trouble at school, and I served some time. It wasn’t . . . Well, anyway, I don’t want to ever have to do that again. But I don’t want that to brand me forever, you know? But I don’t know how to get away from it: jobs ask you if you’ve been arrested, and I know people are going to look different at me at school. What can I do? Where can kids like me get help?”

  Olivia looked at the stage without seeing it. She felt so bad for this kid, and she understood him so well. The world was stacked against him—she hoped he had people around him who would support him through this, and help him succeed and thrive, despite his mistakes, like she had. But no matter what, he had a hard road ahead. She slid a hand in her bag to see if she had her card case with her. She’d ask if someone on Max’s staff could run back over to the kid and hand him her card so she could try to help him.

  “Thank you so much for asking that question, Jerome,” Max said. “I’m doing my best to get a bill through the Senate to help people like you—one thing I especially want to do is to ban that box you have to check if you’ve been arrested; some states have banned it already, but I want to do this nationwide.” Max paused for the applause to die away. “But as for what you can do, I know there’s someone in the audience today who has some expertise on that . . .” Max looked straight at her, that smile still on his face.

  At first, Olivia didn’t understand what was going on. And then she realized, and fury swept over her. Had Max really called on her, spontaneously, in front of this huge crowd, and the press, to talk about one of the most difficult experiences of her life? For what, to give him street cred, or something?

  She shook her head at him. But instead of looking away, he put on that smiling, pleading look, like he did when he wanted the last dumpling at dim sum, or when he wanted to watch one of his comic book movies. And the worst part was, it had usually worked on her before. Did this man really fucking think his stupid puppy dog eyes would convince her to rip open a wound in front of a huge audience? She shook her head again and glared at him, and he seemed to finally get the picture.

  “My office can definitely help you,” Max said to Jerome. “Someone will give you contact information before you leave, and we can get you connected with services that can help, like getting you hooked up with mentors who can help guide and advise you, and job-training programs. But one of the reasons we’re all here is that we need to do a lot more. Does anyone have any other great ideas for me about ways we should be helping Jerome and people like him?”

  Olivia would be impressed with Max’s recovery right there if she hadn’t been so angry that it felt like actual smoke was coming out of her ears.

  Was everyone in this whole room staring at her? She certainly felt like they were. They were staring at her like Max had. All these vultures from Max’s office and from the press who just wanted their own curiosity satisfied, who wanted her to talk and cry and talk some mo
re so they could judge her afterward even more than they’d judged her before. All of these people who wanted her to humiliate herself even more than Max had just humiliated her. Angry tears sprang to her eyes, and she fought them back.

  Someone nudged her, and she flinched.

  “It’s just me,” Jamila said in a low voice. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. She was many things right now, but “okay” was not one of them.

  “Do you want to go?” Jamila asked.

  God yes.

  “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” Olivia said. “But I can’t get up and leave right now. The last thing I want are pictures in the newspaper of my ass as I walk out the door.”

  She could feel the rumble of Jamila’s laughter, even if she couldn’t hear it.

  “Okay, as soon as the town hall is over, we’re out of here.” She pulled out her phone. “I know they locked some of the back doors for security, but I’ll get Sam to let us out.”

  The next fifteen minutes felt interminable. Olivia kept a fake smile on her face the whole time, and her face turned in the direction of the stage, but she couldn’t and didn’t look at Max. Finally, Max thanked everyone for coming, and got a round of applause. As everyone in the whole room staggered to their feet, talking and laughing and banging chairs around, Jamila grabbed Olivia’s arm.

  “Follow me.”

  Olivia didn’t let herself glance in the direction of the stage as they fled. They went away from the main doors to a little door in the corner of the room, almost hidden behind the AV equipment. Jamila opened the door, and they slipped through.

  “This takes us to the back; we have to walk around the block to the parking lot,” Jamila said. Olivia just nodded.

  They didn’t speak as they rushed to Olivia’s car, thank God. She just wanted to get out of there, away from Max’s staff and the press and everyone else who had been in that room. But most of all, away from Max, who knew she never wanted to be in the spotlight, who knew how hard it had been for her to be thrown into public because of him, who knew that she’d only done that for him because she loved him, and who had tried to drag her and her story and her pain and her struggles in front of the world, like she was some kind of trophy for him. She had to get away as fast as she could before she broke down.