She threw back the covers with a sigh—there was no point in staying in bed and pretending she’d go back to sleep. She might as well drink some coffee and eat some leftover cake for breakfast.

Ten minutes later, she was back in her bedroom with a cup of very strong coffee and a big slice of cake. She took a sip of coffee and a bite of cake and smiled—the super chocolatey frosting cut through the bitterness of her coffee perfectly. She should definitely have cake for breakfast more often.

She reached for her phone and laughed out loud when she saw Jamila’s text, sent approximately one minute after they’d said good-bye last night:

THE MYSTERY MAN YOU ARE DATING IS MAX POWELL THE MAX POWELL WAS I JUST IMAGINING THINGS HOLY SHIT OLIVIA I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING

Olivia laughed out loud again and took another big bite of cake. THE Max Powell indeed.

She shrugged. She had no choice here but to go all in, did she?

You free tonight? Come over for dinner. This is a story that has to be told over a bottle of wine—for me, not you—and also not in public

Jamila texted back a lot faster than Olivia thought she would this early in the morning.

Just tell me what time and I’m there

At 6:03 that night, Olivia finished making a cheese and charcuterie plate that even her sister would be proud of her for, and opened one of the bottles of wine she’d picked up along with the cheese. Thank God Jamila was one of those people who was always five to ten minutes late, which Olivia considered to be perfect timing. The worst people were the five-to-ten-minutes-early people—half the time she wasn’t even dressed ten minutes before someone was supposed to arrive at her house.

At exactly 6:10, the doorbell rang. Olivia swung open the door and handed Jamila a wineglass full of sparkling water.

“Come on in. I hope you’re hungry, I got us a ton of food.”

Jamila was smiling from ear to ear when she followed Olivia inside.

“Starving—I haven’t eaten since brunch, and that was at eleven. Brunch always throws me off for the rest of the day—it makes me want to eat again at like three, and then again at nine. But I refrained from doing so because I knew I was coming over here and why the hell am I still talking about brunch when all I care about is what the HELL IS GOING ON BETWEEN YOU AND SENATOR MAX POWELL?”

Olivia laughed as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“I was waiting for you to get there. Come into the living room so we can get comfortable; this story will take a while.”