He scribbled down the names of all of the places he could remember, and vague location markers for the ones he couldn’t— “that taco truck on Olympic” was one of his notes. He knew if he pulled his phone out, he could look up exact names and addresses, but he didn’t want to deal with his phone right now. There would be so many crises—texts and emails and news alerts he needed a break from. He was enjoying this moment of pretending he was just Max. He needed at least thirty more minutes off from being Senator Powell.

And at least thirty more minutes to talk to, and look at, Olivia. He’d noticed her as soon as he walked in; she looked so joyful and alive, he couldn’t help but notice. Her warm brown skin glowed as she laughed, her eyes lit up as she talked, and her hair refused to stay in the bun she’d tried to trap it in, her curls dancing in a halo around her face. Most of the time when she looked at him, she wasn’t smiling, but that just made it all the more valuable when she did. She wore a silky pink shirt, and a thin gold necklace that disappeared under it, and he found the entire combination incredibly alluring. He wanted to follow that necklace down, but he forced his eyes back to his list so he wouldn’t stare.

Olivia asked questions as he wrote, and they chatted about food and Los Angeles and hotel horror stories. This fun, easy conversation was the most relaxed he’d been in months. How was it that someone like him, who spent all day every day talking to people, felt so lonely for personal connection, and so happy to have found it, if only for a little while? The whole time they talked, he was afraid she’d ask him what he did—he didn’t want to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to tell her the truth and break this spell. But while they talked about a lot of other things, she never asked him that, thank goodness.

“Anything else for either of you?” Krystal picked up their long-ago-drained coffee cups and the empty cookie plate.

Olivia shook her head and glanced at her wrist.

“Oh God, it’s after eleven. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll take the check, thanks, Krystal.”

Max sighed and nodded. This night had to end sometime.

“Me, too.”

They each signed their checks and walked together to the elevator. He pressed twelve; she pressed eight. They were silent for the first few floors.