“I’m sorry, I forgot. I can’t kiss you here; I should have come inside for a few minutes. And I’ve been wanting to kiss you so much all week.”

She put her hand on his knee.

“We’ll have plenty of time after bowling. Or”—she raised an eyebrow at him— “we could go back inside.”

He grinned at her, and put his hand over hers.

“If we do that, we’re never leaving. And you know, I like bowling, but …”

She squeezed his hand.

“Look how impatient you are. Don’t get me wrong, I like it, but we can wait.”

Plus, she had her own reasons for wanting to go bowling tonight.

He drove them out to a place he’d found online that was supposed to have pub food that was actually good and beer in a bar attached to the bowling alley, and where you could reserve lanes in advance.

“Thank you for finding this place—I’m glad we’re not going to have to wait forever for a lane,” she said.

He laughed.

“I’m glad I found this place, too, or else I wouldn’t have suggested bowling at all. I loathe having to wait for things. I know maybe that makes me a privileged jerk; sometimes I make myself wait in line for brunch, just to prove I still can, but I hate every second of it.”

Olivia laughed.

“I hate it, too. That first weekend after I got here, I went to one of those places for brunch that I see all over Instagram, and I had to wait for an hour and a half! The food was good, but I’m not sure if there’s any food worth waiting an hour and a half for on a Sunday morning.”

“Thank God you feel that way,” he said.

He put on his fake glasses before they got out of the car. She still hadn’t seen him in that blond wig, but the glasses, plus his tousled hair and plain T-shirt, really did make him look different from the Senator Powell she saw on TV.

Their lane was flanked by teenagers’ birthday parties. The teens had obviously been there for a while and were already rowdy, which was perfect. Teens wouldn’t pay attention to the two of them, bless them.

Max picked up a bowling ball with three fingers, while Olivia tried out one ball, then another.

“I don’t even remember what I’m looking for here—what are these supposed to feel like?”

He picked up one of the balls she put down.

“You want it heavy enough so it can spin down the lane and knock over all of the pins but not so heavy you have trouble tossing it.”

She picked up a silver glittery ball and smiled.

“I think this is the one.”

Max went back to the first one he’d picked up.