potential clients. Now on my way to a local bar association thing to network, even though I wish I was on my couch watching bad reality TV
Wes waved his hand at Max’s phone.
“That little meeting at the bar was obviously not all, because if it was, why do you have that schmoopy look on your face? Did she take you back to her room after she got you to hit on her at the bar?”
Max rolled his eyes.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. No one went back to anyone’s room. I didn’t even get her last name—then, anyway. But then—last week when I was back in L.A., I gave a speech at a luncheon. I looked around the room when I was up onstage, and there she was.” He held up a hand to forestall Wes’s conspiracy theory. “She was not stalking me; she’s a lawyer, she just moved to L.A. to start her own firm, and one of the board members of the center has known her for years and invited her to the luncheon.”
Wes took the remote back and changed the channel.
“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,