They stopped right by Olivia’s car.
“Do you need me to drive you home?” Jamila asked.
Olivia shook her head.
“I really appreciate that, but no. I just need to . . . I just need to go.”
Jamila touched her arm and looked into her eyes.
“Text or call later if you need to talk. Okay?”
Olivia looked away so she wouldn’t cry.
“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for getting me out of there.”
Olivia gave Jamila a quick hug and then got in her car and sped out of the parking lot as quickly as she could. Part of her wondered if there were photographers around waiting for her or maybe even following her home, but at this point, she was past caring about that.
She felt so relieved when she pulled up to her house. All she wanted was to be inside, in her own space, alone. In a place where she didn’t have to worry that anyone was watching her or judging her or taking pictures of her. A place she wouldn’t have to hold on tight to herself and everything she was feeling.
She opened her front door, walked inside, and slid to the floor with her back against the door.
How could he have done this to her?
She’d given so much of herself to Max. She’d thought he understood her. She’d thought he knew just how hard it was to deal with the public part of his life, how much of a compromise it was for her to even come to events like this for him, to be in public with him, to let him tell the world they were together. But he obviously didn’t understand at all, or else he never would have done what he did tonight. He never would have looked to her in that room, full of the press and his staff and so many people, and tried to get her to talk about one of the hardest moments of her life, one she’d spent years trying to get over, one she’d long ago forgiven herself for, but she knew the rest of the world wouldn’t. How could he have done that?
She curled her knees up to her chest and let the tears that had pricked her eyelids for the last hour finally flow.
* * *
* * *
Where the fuck did she go? Max fumed in the back seat of his car as Andy drove him home.
After the town hall ended, Max had been busy shaking hands and taking selfies and talking to community members and staff from the center, but he’d looked around for Olivia over and over again. He hadn’t seen her anywhere, but he’d just assumed she was hidden behind the crowd, or talking to someone else, or waiting for him in the greenroom. But when he’d made it back there, no one on his staff seemed to know where she was.
He wouldn’t be quite so worried about this if it hadn’t been for the look on her face the last time they’d made eye contact. That kid had asked the perfect question to allow Olivia to finally easily address everything in an optimal, press-friendly way—it couldn’t have been better if the question were planted! Max had looked to her gratefully so she could stand up and briefly talk about her background, how she’d succeeded, and give the kid advice for his future. She’d seemed to want to be an example for kids who had gone through what she had. But instead she’d just stared back at him with that look of stone on her face. He hadn’t understood at first, so he kept looking back at her, but she’d just looked angrier and angrier.
And then she’d disappeared. And she hadn’t texted to say where she was, and she hadn’t replied to any of his texts asking her where she was, and he couldn’t call her because he was in the car with his staff right now, and he still had no idea where the fuck she was or what that look on her face had been about and why she wasn’t answering his texts.
Maybe she was at his house right now. Maybe she’d needed to drive her friend home and had forgotten to text to tell him so. She had a key; maybe she was already there waiting for him. Maybe she was in his bed right now, waiting for him. Oh God, he hoped so—it felt like forever since he’d had her in his bed. He couldn’t wait to slide into bed with her tonight, and kiss her, and make love to her, and then wrap his arms around her and never let go.
Andy pulled up in front of his house, and Max thanked him for the great event before he raced into the house.
“Olivia? Olivia, are you here?” he shouted as soon as he walked in the door.
No answer.
Maybe she couldn’t hear from his bedroom. Or maybe she’d fallen asleep there, waiting for him.
He ran up the stairs and burst into his bedroom.
“Olivia.”
But his bedroom was silent, his bed empty. And he realized what should have hit him as soon as they’d pulled up to his house: her car wasn’t there.
Okay, seriously, where the fuck was she?
He called her, once, twice, but she didn’t answer.
He thought back to that frozen look on her face. Now that he thought about it, had she avoided his eyes for the rest of the town hall? He’d looked at her a few other times, but she’d always been looking at a random corner of the stage, definitely not at him.
He grabbed his car keys off the hook by the garage. Thirty minutes later, he banged on her front door.
“Olivia? Are you there?”
Her car was there, at least, so that was a good sign.
He rang her doorbell, then reached for his keys to let himself in. But before he could, her door swung open.
“So is your goal to let the whole world know exactly where I live, on top of everything else?”
She was still in the black pants and silk blouse she’d worn to the community center, but everything else about her looked different. Her hair was gathered in a tight knot at the top of her head, instead of the soft curls that had skimmed her shoulders. She had smudges around her face that he knew hadn’t been there earlier. And now, instead of either the laughter in her eyes he’d seen in the greenroom or that stony look on her face he’d seen in the auditorium, the look on her face was pure fury.
“Olivia, what happened? Where did you go?” He stepped inside. “What do you mean, ‘on top of everything else’?”
She slammed the door behind him.
“What do I mean? Have you forgotten what happened back there at the community center? What you did to me up there on that stage, in front of your staff and the press and hundreds of other people?”
He stared at her as realization dawned.
“This is all about that kid? Is that what all of this is about? I don’t understand why you wouldn’t give him advice in the first place—you told me you wanted to be able to be an example for kids like him!”
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.
“No. No, please don’t say that. You’re mad at me, I understand, but we can work through this. I love you. So much.”
She dropped her face into her hand and wiped away tears before she looked back up at him.
“I love you, too. And I’m not mad at you, not anymore. I was mad, don’t get me wrong, I was furious. But I can never stay mad at you. The thing is, I don’t think we can work through this. You’re impulsive, you’re an idealist, you want to help everyone, and that’s part of the reason I fell in love with you. But . . .” She stopped, closed her eyes, and took a breath. “But I don’t think I can live like that. This is all so hard for me, and I keep trying, but it’s too much.” She sighed. “I wish we could go back to how it was before. When we were just Olivia and Max, two people falling in love. I didn’t . . . I never expected to fall in love with you, you know. I thought we would have a fun little fling and it would all be over. But I kept getting in deeper and deeper. And your job makes everything so much more complicated.”
He felt like his whole world was crashing around him.
“No, please, don’t do this. Fuck my job, this is about us. I don’t have to . . . I would do anything for you.”
Another tear fell from her eye, and she brushed it away.
“You love your job so much, and you’re so good at it, and we need you there, now more than ever. But I just can’t take this anymore. The calls from reporters, the nasty articles, the photographers, the weird comments from clients . . . I can’t keep doing this, Max. Every week it’s something else. And you need the kind of partner who I can’t be—you need someone who looks perfect all the time by default, someone who doesn’t have any baggage, someone who isn’t obsessed with her job, someone who can be a perfect political wife in all of the ways I can’t. I don’t want to mess this all up for you.”
He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t lose her.
“Olivia. No. Please. I need you. All I need is you. Please don’t do this. You say you don’t like impulsive decisions, don’t make this one! Take some time, think this through, don’t give up on us.”
She shook her head.
“Max, I . . . We’re just too different. I can’t change you, and you can’t change me, either. I have been thinking this through—I should have listened to that voice in my head every time I agreed to go out with you, or to date you, or to go public with you, or to go to Hawaii with you. Or to . . .” Her voice caught. “Fall in love with you, though that one isn’t your fault. I kept slowly giving in to you, because I loved you, but if I keep doing that I’m going to lose parts of myself. We can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”
She walked around him, and opened the front door.
“You should go.”
He tried to think of something else he could say. Some way to change her mind, some way to convince her he belonged to her, and she belonged to him, forever. This had always been his strength, one of the reasons why he’d always been such a good politician. He’d always been able to change minds; he’d always been able to think of the right thing to say, even to people who hated him. And Olivia loved him; she’d said so. He knew her; he should be able to do this.
But somehow the words wouldn’t come.
So he walked out the door.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia fell into an exhausted sleep shortly after Max left. Miraculously, she slept well, but when she woke up the next morning, all she could think about was that frozen, devastated, empty look on his face before he’d walked out the door. And then she hated herself for breaking up with Max. No, she hated herself for falling in love with Max in the first place. She should have headed this off at the pass months ago—she knew this would never work! Why did she even let herself, and him, think it might?
Had she done the right thing? Had Max been right, that she should have thought this through more, that she shouldn’t have given up on them? But no, she’d thought about it for that hour between when she got home and Max showed up. She’d thought a
bout how different they were, and how she’d have to keep conforming to him if she stayed with him. She thought about how determined she’d been at the beginning to not get in too deep, to not get too attached, because if she did, she knew bad things would happen. She should have trusted her instincts.
She loved him so damn much. She never should have let herself get to this place. What a nightmare love was.
She stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee, and as she did, her doorbell rang. Hope rose in her heart—it was Max, he’d come back, he had a solution for everything, he’d figured out a way for them to work after all.
She raced to the door, without bothering to put on a bra or do anything to her hair. But when she stopped to look through the peephole, her heart dropped. It wasn’t Max at all, just some sort of deliveryman. Probably with those shoes, or purse, or dress she’d ordered the week before in her fit of missing Max. She watched through the peephole until the deliveryman put down whatever he was holding and drove away. But when she cracked open the door to grab her package, it wasn’t the box she’d expected. It was a bakery bag.
She sighed and brought the bag into the kitchen.
“I love you” the cake read, in blue letters on top of the chocolate frosting.
Yeah, she knew. She didn’t doubt his love for her, that wasn’t what this was all about—hadn’t he listened at all to what she’d said? She shut the box and took her coffee back to bed.
Three more cakes arrived over the next two days. She stacked them all on her kitchen counter, untouched. She should drop them off at the food pantry, but that would mean she’d have to answer some difficult questions from Jamila, and she’d spent all weekend ignoring her texts. Instead she’d watched marathons of the Real Housewives of New York City, Atlanta, and Orange County. Strangely, these women and their awful relationships all made her feel better about her own choices. That was, until she was in bed in the middle of the night, without Max next to her, without his love and affection and desire for her. He’d loved her, wholly, completely, in a way no one had ever loved her before. And never would again, she was sure of that. How could she have let that go?
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