“I see. How did you get this poor woman’s number, then? Did you fall that hard for her after a chat at a bar and seeing her from across a hotel ballroom?”
Max picked up his phone to text her back.
Good luck! You’ll be fantastic.
He looked up from his phone to Wes, and tried to wipe the schmoopy look off of his face. Whatever that meant.
“I remembered the name of her law firm and looked it up.” Wes didn’t need to know about the cake. “And long story short, we went out Saturday night.”
Wes’s eyes widened.
“Oh shit. You really are running for president, aren’t you?”
Max set his beer down.
“What? No, what are you talking about? How did you get from here to there?”
Wes tore off another slice of pizza.
“Gotta wife up to run for president. Everybody knows that.”
Max balled up a napkin and tossed it at him.
“Now you sound like one of those stupid magazines that put both of us on their hottest bachelors in Washington lists. I’m not trying to ‘wife up’—I just like her, that’s all!”
He wouldn’t admit this to Wes, because then Wes would be certain he was going to run for president, but he had been . . . lonely lately for more than just the reasons he’d said to Olivia the other night. He’d been to a lot of fundraisers for other candidates in the past sixteen months, and at many of them, the candidate’s spouse was there with them, by their side. He’d wished he had that.
But he hadn’t wished it enough to go on a single second date in the past two-plus years. Olivia was different.
“Mmmhmm,” Wes said. “How long did this date last, anyway?”
Max sighed.
“Unfortunately, not long enough—Kara called with that leak about the attorney general’s announcement, so we had to come up with a statement ASAP. Which sucked, because I had to rush off right when I’d driven Olivia home. But even so, it was one of the most fun nights I’ve had in . . . well, at least the past two years. I’m going to see her again this weekend, and . . .” He took a deep breath. “She’s just great. Smart, funny, thoughtful.” He shook his head. “I know it’s early, but I can’t wait to see her again. I really like her, Wes.”
Wes turned to look at him, all trace of mockery on his face gone.
“You really do, don’t you? I haven’t seen you look like that in years.” He punched his friend on the shoulder. “Okay, who is this woman? Let’s see.” He gestured at Max’s phone.
Max sighed and pulled up the tab for Olivia’s law firm website.
“This is her,” he said, and handed his phone to Wes.
Wes took the phone, stared at the picture for a few seconds, and then looked up at Max with his mouth open.
“Oh. Ohhh, okay. Well, if you are trying to wife up, I approve.” He paused for a second. “But.”
Max should have known there would be a “but.”
“Can I get you to promise me one thing?” Wes asked.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do that,” Max said.
Wes ignored that.
“Promise me you won’t sleep with her yet.” Max opened his mouth to protest, but Wes kept talking. “I know, that’s a ridiculous thing for me to say, but just listen. That might force some caution on you. I know how you are—you jump into things, you make decisions in seconds. I don’t want you to fall hard for this woman and whisk her off to Vegas on the third date, or worse, have her sell stories about you to the press.”
Max had to stop him there.
“That’s unfair—yes, okay, some of that is true, but I’m not usually like that with women! I haven’t dated anyone in almost three years—not since Lana and I broke up. Plus, I’m not in the habit of spilling my guts to people. I don’t know why you think I need caution here!”
Wes held up a hand.
“Sure, but you do jump into things quickly, and while most of the time your split-second decisions turn out well—that decision to run for Senate sure worked out—you and I both know the times when they haven’t. Remember Death Valley?”
Max grabbed another piece of pizza.
“I get us stranded in the desert one time twenty years ago, and I have to hear about it for the rest of my life, huh?”
“I’m just saying—you haven’t changed that much in those twenty years,” Wes said. “Remember when you lost it on the attorney general on CNN last fall?”
Max sighed. That moment had gained him a lot of press, and a lot of cheers from people on his side, but it hadn’t particularly helped his criminal justice reform bill.
“Don’t remind me. But I don’t see what one thing has to do with the other. I’ve only gone on a handful of boring first dates since Lana, and the first time I meet someone I actually like, you want to throw cold water all over it?”
Wes dropped his hand on Max’s shoulder.
“I’m not trying to be a dick, but everything is a little more high risk for you now. And if you saw the look on your face when you talked about her . . . I just want you to be careful, that’s all. And for her sake, I’m sure you don’t want to get photographed leaving her house some morning and have her put on blast as the new girlfriend of the hottest bachelor in DC before either of you is ready for that.”
Max sighed and leaned his head back against the couch.
“Damn it. That’s an actual good reason. I hate it when you’re right. Okay, fine, I promise. Thanks for the buzzkill.”
Wes grinned at him.
“Anytime, man, anytime.”
Wednesday afternoon, Olivia sat at her desk and looked from her silent computer to her silent phone and back. She hadn’t gotten an email since eleven a.m., or a text message since just after noon. She couldn’t remember the last time this had happened in her working life. Maybe in her first few months as an associate, before she’d passed the bar?
Monday and Tuesday had been much the same. She’d had calls with one of their handful of clients, and one call with a potential client, and she had done lots of networking, but it wasn’t at all the amount of work she’d been used to. Or expected.
Yes, yes, it was still the early days. And sure, she was still occupied doing some of the seemingly unending administrative setup for the new firm, but now that she and Ellie were mostly done with that, the silence was starting to terrify her. She was already tired of lying to people that their new firm was “soooo busy” like she’d said in an email to a former colleague today. But she knew she had to fake it till she made it, so fake it she would do.
But . . . how long would she have to fake it? Had this all been a huge mistake? Did this silence mean their firm was going to fail? She had a lot of money saved up—she’d been thinking about getting out of the big-firm life for a while now, and she’d tried to save as much as possible—so she wasn’t worried she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent or would have to give up on the firm in the short term. She had enough to support herself for at least the next two years, if necessary . . . but if it were necessary, that would mean she had failed.
Honestly, if she still had to rely on her savings by early next year, she’d have to give up, realize she couldn’t cut it, and go crawling back to a big law firm.