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