again.
Max sat at his big, beautiful, shiny desk in his Washington office and stared at his computer. Emails kept coming in, hundreds every minute, it seemed like, but none of them was the one he was looking for.
He’d sent that email to Olivia Wednesday night, after working on it, and the silly, but—he hoped she knew—very earnest attachment, for over a week. He’d thought the best way to show her how serious he was about this wasn’t just an apology—he’d already apologized, and anyone could say they were sorry and keep doing it over and over—but was something concrete. What could be more concrete to a lawyer than a contract?
But it was now Friday morning and he hadn’t heard from her. Of course, he’d wanted an immediate response and a “come over this weekend so we can sign it together and then stay in bed all damn weekend,” but a simple “I love you and miss you, too,” would have been an excellent start. Honestly, at this point, he’d be happy for a “thanks, looking this over now,” or something equally cold. But he reminded himself again, as he’d done once every ten minutes for the past two days, that Olivia needed more time than that.
Had he overstepped by sending her that email? Should he have tried to talk to her in person instead? But he didn’t want to show up on her doorstep again, or at her office. Those both felt like shitty things to do to her, even if she did want to see him again, which was questionable now. Maybe always had been.
He was staying in Washington all weekend, for the first time all year. Sure, partly it was because he was booked on one of the Sunday morning shows, so it didn’t make sense for him to fly to California on Friday and back here on Saturday. But if he’d still been with Olivia, that wouldn’t have stopped him. He’d hoped, after he sent that email, he’d have a reason to fly back to California this weekend.
He sighed and spun around to look out the window. Apparently not.
At some point, he was probably going to have to tell his staff they’d broken up. He was pretty sure Kara suspected; partly because he’d never doubt her ability to see through him again after how quickly she’d realized he was dating someone, and partly because she’d asked about Olivia twice that first week back and not again. He hated that his staff had to know anything about his relationship failures, but that was his fucking life as a senator, wasn’t it? He’d probably tell Kara at some point and have her spread the word, but that didn’t feel any less humiliating.
There was a knock on his door, and Kara poked her head in.
“Sir, your ten thirty appointment is here.”
He glanced down at his calendar.
“It’s blocked off in my calendar, but I thought this was an appointment with you—do I have any briefing papers for this?”
Kara grinned at him.
“I don’t think you need them, sir.”
She threw open the door, and in walked Olivia. She had on a dark gray suit, a blue blouse, and black high heels. She looked incredible. And, most of all, she was here.
Max stood up and gaped at her.
“Senator,” she said, with a nod to him. “Kara, thank you.”
Kara winked at Max and closed the door.
Max couldn’t stop looking at Olivia. He just wanted to drink her in. Just being in her presence made him happy. He’d missed her so much.
“You’re here,” he said. And then he wanted to kick himself—why didn’t he say something more articulate, more romantic? Something that made it clear to her how much he loved her, and how serious he was about working through this with her?
She walked toward him, but before he could move around his desk to pull her into his arms, she sat down in the chair across from his desk.
She reached into her briefcase and pulled out some papers.
“I got your initial contract, and I had some edits to it. I thought it made the most sense for us to talk in person.” She looked down, and then up at him. “First, I have a question. Do you mean this? All of this?”
Hope rose in his chest. He wanted to jump up and come around the desk to embrace her, say he’d do anything to get her back. But he knew that was the wrong thing to say—he knew if he said that, she’d think he