“CAKE!” She stared at the cake then back up at him. “Is that for me?”

He grinned at her and opened the sides of the box so he could slide the cake out onto the counter.

“Who do you think it’s for? I got it this afternoon. I had a feeling tonight might be stressful—Dolly notwithstanding. I thought we both might need a pick-me-up afterward.” He picked up the cake cutter from where he’d left it on the counter, cut a fat slice, and slid it onto a plate.

“Yellow cake with chocolate frosting!” Olivia took a fork out of the drawer and took a big bite of the cake.

“Oh God. Oh God, this is just what I needed.”

She dropped the fork on the counter and wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you,” she said.

He tasted the sugar and butter and chocolate as he kissed her.

“I love you, too,” he said.

She stepped back and picked up the fork.

“And I really, really love yellow cake with chocolate frosting.”

He cut another slice and grabbed his own fork.

“So do I.”

Olivia woke up absurdly early the next morning to find Max standing over her.

“What’s wrong?” she said as she squinted up at him.

He bent down to kiss her.

“Nothing, I just have an early flight this morning back to DC, remember? I’m sorry I woke you up, but I have to go and I didn’t want to leave before saying good-bye.”

She sat up and kissed him again.

“I’m glad you woke me up.” She touched a finger to his cheek and brushed down his hair. “Have a good week. I’ll miss you.”

He kissed her hard on the lips, then stood up all the way.

“I’ll miss you so much. I’ll be in touch. About everything.”

He kissed her again and left. When she heard her front door open and close a few seconds later, she flopped back down on her bed with a long sigh.

She tried to drift back into sleep again, but even though it was just after six a.m. and she almost never woke up before seven thirty, she was wide awake. She missed Max’s warm, comfortable, soothing body next to her, and now all she could think about was the “everything” he’d meant. Maybe all hell had already broken loose and he hadn’t told her? No, Max would have told her, that wasn’t his style.

The problem was, this was a hell of a bigger deal to her than it was to Max. Max was already famous—this wasn’t going to change his life that much, maybe even at all. But it was going to change hers, at least somewhat. She just had no idea how much. Or what was going to happen next.