Olivia nodded.
“For the bulk of my career, so . . . what, twelve or thirteen years. Why?”
Olivia geared herself up to give law school advice—that’s where questions like this usually led.
“Did you have to deal with people—mostly men—not listening to you, or your ideas? Or pretending they’d come up with your ideas themselves?”
Olivia laughed.
“Every single fucking day, more or less. That was one of the reasons I started my own firm.” She took a sip of the agua fresca the waitress dropped down in front of her. “Why, do you have to deal with that at the community center?”
Jamila’s eyebrows went sky high.
“Every single fucking day!” They both laughed. “I mean, that’s a slight exaggeration, but for instance—I got involved with the center really early on because I grew up in that neighborhood and was excited there was a new community center. And when I suggested a meal delivery service to the executive director, he blew me off. For months, he blew me off! And then all of a sudden I find out he went to the board and told them his amazing idea about what to do with the cafeteria we weren’t using, and the board got all excited, and I wanted to throw things.”
Olivia nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. And you feel like an asshole complaining about it, since it’s happening, isn’t it, and it’s doing good in the community, isn’t it? But— ”
“But I’m still so bitter! Exactly!” Jamila said. “And you know how yesterday we were talking about getting more teens involved in our work? Well, I had a great idea while I was driving home: you know how people always say the best time to get teenagers talking to you about what’s really going on with them is while you’re in the car? What if we paired up teens and our adult volunteers to do deliveries, in a sort of stealth mentorship program? It would get the kids more involved in the community and the center, and over the course of the weeks and months, they’d get to know the other volunteers, and have someone else to get advice from and rely on.”
Olivia could feel a huge grin spreading across her face.
“I love this idea.”
Jamila grinned back at her.
“Good, because I love it too—thank you for inspiring it. But . . .”
“But you’re worried that if you tell your boss, he won’t give you the credit for it. Again.”
Jamila nodded.
“Exactly. And don’t get me wrong, I really love this job, and for the most part I get to have a lot of free rein, and I feel really proud of the work we do. But he takes all the credit for it! Over and over again! I’m sorry for ranting about this, you’re a volunteer, but I just saw the board meeting minutes, and it goes over all of the meals we’ve made and given out over the last quarter, and congratulates him, again, for his great idea! Olivia, I’m so mad I could spit.”
Olivia wished she were surprised.
“What I would do— ” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry, like the older sibling I am, I have the habit of giving advice whether someone asks for it or not. Do you want advice? I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings if you say no, you just needed to vent over some nachos.”
Jamila shook her head.
“No, I’d love your advice, actually. That’s partly why I brought it up. You always seem so . . . put together and no-nonsense. Like you wouldn’t stand that shit for a minute.”
Olivia sighed. She was glad she seemed like that, at least.
“Thanks, but sadly, I’ve had to stand it, many times. Especially early in my career, when I felt blindsided by it, and had no idea what to do other than just sit there. But my biggest piece of advice is very lawyerly—do everything in writing. And shout yourself to the heavens. Email him your ideas, your successes, your numbers, and be as bold as hell in claiming them for yourself. And this is the key: cc board members on those emails. Especially the one you’re going to send about this teen program, because I love it. Hell, feel free to cc me on that email too! Basically, you need to make it impossible for him to keep pretending you have nothing to do with this, and even more impossible for the board to be clueless.”
Jamila nodded slowly.
“That sounds . . . smart, but really scary.”
The waitress put their nachos in front of them, and Olivia picked up a cheese-laden chip.
“Oh, it’s definitely scary, especially at first. It gets a lot better with practice, though. Feel free to send me any draft emails, if you want me to look them over before you send them. I’ve gotten very good at this in the past six or seven years.” She took a bite of the chip, and reached for another one. “It’ll be good payback for your help in buying that car—maybe even better than these nachos.”
Jamila spooned salsa over a chip.
“I’ll definitely take you up on that. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Olivia smiled at her.
“My pleasure. We shouldn’t all have to reinvent the wheel every time, you know?”
Olivia hated that this all-too-familiar thing was happening to Jamila, but it made her feel good that Jamila had asked for her advice. Especially since the whole car-buying process, and her anxiety over it, had made her feel vulnerable. She was glad both she and Jamila had shared with each other.
Maybe she’d made a real new friend here in L.A.
“Okay, and can I ask you another question?” Jamila put down her chip. “Where do you get all of those great button-down tops? I can never find ones that fit my chest; but yours all fit perfectly!”
Olivia laughed.
“I couldn’t, either, for years. Then finally I just gave up and bought one two sizes too big—which was hard enough to find—and got it tailored. It was so perfect I got like ten more.”
Just as Jamila got up to go to the bathroom, Olivia felt her phone buzz in her pocket.
Don’t keep me in suspense!
She grinned, and sent Max the picture of her and the car that Jamila had taken right before they left the dealership.
I bought this!
Just as he sent back a flurry of exclamation points and applause emojis, Jamila sat back down. Olivia slid her phone into her pocket.
Jamila grinned at her.
“Sooo, things are going well with that guy?”
Shit, Olivia had forgotten that she’d told Jamila anything about Max, if only vaguely.
“It’s . . . complicated. But . . . yes, I guess so.”
Jamila laughed.
“That smile on your face as you looked at your phone was more than ‘I guess so.’ ”
Olivia covered her face with her hands. Apparently she had her answer about how she looked at Max.
“Okay, you got me. Yes, it’s going well, it’s just that . . .” She put her hands back down on the table and looked at Jamila. “When we first started—and actually, when I first told you about him—I thought it was going to be a casual thing and probably wouldn’t last very long. But . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s possible I was wrong about that. And I wasn’t really prepared for something like this.” She laughed. “I don’t know why I say that in the past tense; I’m not really prepared for something like this.”
Jamila looked at her like she was a brand-new species.
“What do you have to prepare for? Can’t you just keep dating?”
It sounded so easy when Jamila said it like that.
“That’s sort of what we’ve been doing, but . . .” It was too early—both in her friendship with Jamila and her relationship with Max—to tell Jamila who Max was, so she couldn’t tell her the whole story, even though she desperately wanted to. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I’m not that much of a ‘go with the flow’ kind of person.”
Jamila laughed at her again.
“Oh, really, the woman who took two months to buy a car isn’t a ‘go with the flow’ kind of person? I never would have guessed.”
Olivia couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m just saying,” Jamila said as she
picked up a chip, “any guy who makes you smile like that is worth getting out of your comfort zone a little.”
Her other friends, or her sister, would tell her she wasn’t acting like herself, that they hadn’t seen her so into a guy in a long time, and blah blah blah. But Jamila didn’t know her well enough for that, so she just cheered her on. It was kind of nice to have a new friend.
“You might be right,” she finally said.
She texted Max back as soon as she got into her car.
Can’t wait to show you the car in person this weekend! That hike you mentioned sounds good, but please remember that I’ve spent the last ten years living in New York, where there are no hills, and be gentle on me. See you Saturday.
She looked down at her phone and smiled.
Max couldn’t stop thinking about Olivia as he got ready for their hike on Saturday. Obviously, Olivia was gorgeous and brilliant, but there was more to it than that. Maybe it was just that she challenged him in a way no one had in a while. She forced him to earn her respect, and whenever she smiled or laughed or nodded at something he said, he felt like he’d won something. But she was also so warm and caring, under that perpetually suspicious look on her face—the way she’d noticed something was wrong last weekend was proof of that. He felt such a connection with her already. If he was honest with himself, he’d felt that since the very first night at the bar.
She was the only person he’d felt this easy with, this comfortable with, this happy with, in as long as he could remember. He could open up to her in a way he couldn’t, and didn’t, to almost anyone other than Wes. Sure, he could be impulsive in his actions, but he rarely let himself be anything other than the public version of Max Powell with other people. Why didn’t he mind doing that around Olivia? Maybe because she’d been the only person in years who had looked past his whole senator persona and asked if he was okay. She’d recognized he was a person in there, that he had feelings underneath his senator facade.
He had to admit it to himself: he was falling for her, and the more time he spent with her and the more he thought about her, the harder and faster he fell. And no, that wasn’t taking it slow, but you know what—fuck taking it slow. Slow was a waste of time; he was thirty-nine years old, he knew his own mind, he knew what he wanted. He’d known Olivia for two whole months now. That was plenty of time for him to know how he felt about her.
Was that enough time for her, though? He hoped to find out.
Olivia got to his house at two on Saturday afternoon, and he threw open his door and pulled her inside.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked as she walked in. “You know I’m still not sure about this whole hiking thing.” She was wearing leggings, sneakers, a black T-shirt, and a very doubtful look on her face.
God, he’d missed her.
Before she could step farther into his house, he wrapped his arms around her.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said as he pulled her against him.
“Why, you’re tired of all of the suits in Washington and you’re thrilled to see some yoga pants?” she said as she snuggled against him.
He ran his hands up and down her body and grinned at her.
“I’m thrilled to see you, full stop, but the yoga pants are a bonus, I’m not going to lie.”
He leaned down to kiss her, just as she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him to her. He kissed her hard, like he’d been dreaming about doing all week. She kissed him back just as hard, he hoped for the same reason. They stood there for a while, kissing, touching, not saying anything, but he felt—he hoped—they communicated a lot all the same.
“If you still want to go on that hike, we should probably go at some point,” she said in his ear. “Though, if you’d rather go on a nice, civilized, I don’t know, winery tour or something, I’d be happy to be spontaneous for once.”
He laughed and pulled away.
“If you really don’t want to go on a hike, we can totally change our plans,” he said. “But I did get that cheese you liked so much last week.”
She walked ahead of him into his kitchen.
“Then, by all means, let’s hike.”
He picked up the backpack full of food, water, and ice packs, and gestured toward the door.
“All ready,” he said. “And I can’t wait to admire that new car of yours. Do you want to take it, instead of mine?” He didn’t say this to her, but he had a feeling a few local reporters recognized his car, and the last thing he wanted was to get photographed while out with her.
She slung her backpack over one shoulder.
“Sure, but can you drive? I’m getting used to the car, and I think I even like it, but driving in hilly areas and places where I don’t know where I’m going stresses me out. And I know it’ll make me even more stressed if you’re there in the car, judging my driving.”
“I won’t be judging your driving!” he said with a laugh.
She unlocked the car and got into the passenger side.
“I’m sure you’re telling the truth, but I would still feel like you were judging me, no matter what.”
He tossed his backpack in the back seat and got in the driver’s side. After a comically long amount of time, they figured out how to adjust the driver’s seat for his longer legs, and he drove them in the direction of Griffith Observatory.
When they got there, they pulled into the back corner of the almost full parking lot.
“I guess this whole ‘hiking’ thing is very popular here in L.A.,” Olivia said.
He strapped his backpack on and adjusted his hat so it shaded—and mostly covered—his face.
“It just means that if you faint from exposure, there will be plenty of people around to carry you to safety.”
She glared at him.
“Is that your idea of a joke?”
He grinned at her.
“Oh, you know it was funny.”
She finally let a smile break through.
“Fine, it was a little funny.”
He leaned down to kiss her, but took a step back before he did. Right, they were in public. He’d almost forgotten.
Olivia pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and put a black baseball cap on.
They hiked along the easy version of the trail for a few miles. He slowed his stride to match her shorter one, and let himself relax, for the first time in weeks. They walked side by side, and didn’t hold hands, but were so close they may as well have been. Their fingers brushed from time to time as they walked along, and it felt so good to be this close to her, after a whole week of being away. Every so often, he would turn to look at her, and just marvel that he’d found someone like her. Sometimes she would catch him and smile at him, and he would smile back. They didn’t talk about anything hard, just the perfect spring weather, her adventures at the community center this week, and the guy who’d gotten incredibly drunk on his flight on the way home and had been escorted off the plane when they’d landed. Once they could see it, they stopped to take pictures of the Hollywood sign. And the whole way, he was so happy to be here, in one of his favorite places, with her.
After a while, he pointed to a big tree up ahead.
“Want to dive into these snacks?”
Olivia grinned.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She looked out at the view and shook her head. “I have to acknowledge that this hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be. Even kind of . . . nice.”
That felt like the biggest compliment he’d ever received.
“I like you so much,” he said. He didn’t mean to say it, it had just come out.
She turned to look at him, surprise and . . . was that pleasure on her face?
“Why, because I grudgingly admitted that nature can be okay sometimes?”
He laughed out loud as he dropped his backpack under the tree.
“That, and for other reasons, too.” He looked down. He really should tie his shoe. “You know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for las
t week. I needed a quiet night—and to be able to talk to someone—more than I realized.”
Olivia sat down, and he sat down next to her.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I was glad I could help.” She smirked at him. “Though . . . you did say thank you, in your own way.”
He blushed. That move of his might have violated some part of his pledge to Wes, but he hadn’t been able to resist.
“I did, didn’t I?” he said.
She unscrewed her water bottle and took a sip.
“How was this week?” she asked. “I saw you on TV the other night talking criminal justice reform.” She grinned. “I should say, I saw you changing the subject to talk about it when you were actually on to talk about the scandal of the day.”
She’d watched him on TV? He smiled, then sighed.
“Thanks for watching. And yes, I’m good at turning the topic and making it look like it was the host’s idea—it’s one of my real strengths.” He took the cheese out of his backpack and handed it to her. “I’m going to fight for my bill no matter what, even if leadership wants me to shut up about it. I’m still so pissed that they aren’t moving it forward. Maybe if I keep bringing it up, reporters will ask my colleagues questions about it. Maybe that’s all I can hope for.”
He hadn’t realized how bitter he still was about this until he’d started talking.
Olivia shook her head.
“No, there must be something else you can do.” She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting her. “Not about the bill, you know more than I do on that. But there must be something else you can do to help the kids and their families. If the goal is to help them, I’m sure there are other ways to do that. What are they?”
He sat up straight. God, she was right. That was the question he needed to ask.
“Of course there are. I’ve been so laser focused on my bill that I haven’t considered anything else.” He took off his hat so he could see her better. “My staff has tried to get me to concentrate more on some of the other things I can do—education, job-training programs, housing—and I support all of that, but I threw my whole everything behind this bill. I guess . . . I don’t want to think this way, but putting my energy elsewhere seems like admitting defeat.” He sighed. “And I guess my politician ego couldn’t let go of what a major victory this would be. I told myself it would be a victory for the people, and it would. But it would be a big one for me, too.”
Party of Two: The brilliant opposites-attract rom-com from the author of The Proposal! Page 12