Speaking of Kara . . .
Max jumped up off the couch and looked at his calendar. It was somehow, magically, empty.
“Kara cleared my schedule for the rest of the day.” He pulled Olivia off the couch and handed her briefcase to her.
“Let’s get out of here. We need to celebrate, and I know just the place.”
Olivia held up her finger.
“Before we celebrate, I think we’re forgetting something.”
He laughed out loud and tossed her a pen.
“You’re right, we are. Would you like to sign first?”
She grinned at him and bent over their agreement, and signed her name with a flourish at the bottom. He pulled out his favorite pen and signed right next to hers. They both looked at their names, side by side, and smiled at each other.
“There, signed and dated.” He handed her their agreement, and she slid it into her briefcase. “Now, how would you feel about a slice of rich, decadent, luscious chocolate cake to celebrate?”
“How many layers?” she asked.
“Three,” he said.
She grinned.
“Perfect.”
Epilogue
They went back to Hawaii the next August during Max’s recess. The year had been both hard as hell and better than Olivia could have ever imagined. They’d each had to push themselves—and sometimes each other—to follow their contract, but it got easier and easier each time. His job and hers had both had big ups and big downs, and then big ups again; they’d both traveled far too much; they’d seen each other not at all enough. But almost without fail, they saw each other at least once a week, unless there was some sort of emergency that got in their way—which had happened only three times, twice on Max’s end and once on hers. One time she’d even surprised him and flown into DC for a night just to see him. She’d been to fundraisers and parties and town halls and concerts with him, and had actually found a number of them interesting, even fun—especially that time she’d managed to wangle an invitation for her sister and her husband, too. And she’d never, not for one second, doubted Max’s love for her.
They went to the same hotel as the first time—Olivia was less skittish about the press these days, but she drew the line at potential paparazzi shots on vacation—and ran down to the beach like fools again when they arrived. They spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in a cabana, with pineapple drinks, and without their phones.
Midway through the afternoon, Max looked up from The Economist.
“What do you think about having dinner on the balcony of our room tonight, instead of down in the restaurant? I’m feeling lazy.”
She looked up from her novel.
“That’s an excellent idea. Plus, if we go down to dinner, someone might recognize you, and I want you all to myself.”
Max picked up her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm.
“I want you all to myself, too.”
Before dinner, Olivia showered and changed out of her swimsuit and cover-up, and into her favorite caftan. Aaah, this is why she loved Hawaii.
When she came out of the bathroom, the food was all set up on their oceanfront balcony.
“There you are,” Max said as she walked out to join him. “Oh, by the way, since it’s August, I thought we should take the opportunity to revisit this.” He opened the folder sitting on the table, and there was their contract. They each had a copy, but this was the original.
“Oh.” She supposed she couldn’t argue with that; after all, the whole “we’ll revisit every August” part had been on her list. “Yeah, that makes sense. I hadn’t realized you brought this with you.”
She was glad Max had thought about this. Though maybe it didn’t have to be their first night in Hawaii?
“It felt wrong to do it with a copy,” he said. “Let’s get to it: is there anything you want to alter, or edit?”
She bit her lip and thought about it. She couldn’t think of anything right now, but . . .
“Don’t I get some time to consider that?”
Max laughed out loud.
“I should have expected that, shouldn’t I?” He leaned over and kissed her. “Yes, of course you do. We’ll be here all week, so you have plenty of time. It won’t surprise you that I already know what my edits are.”
She actually was kind of surprised by that. Did it mean something had been bothering Max for months and he hadn’t wanted to bring it up until August? She hadn’t intended to be quite so dogmatic about that. Maybe that’s what her edit would be, that they’d discuss it every August, or at any other time if either party desired a reconsideration.
“Okay,” she said. “What are your edits?”
Max took her hand.
“I want my last line to say, ‘I will love you, and honor you, and cherish you, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.’ Olivia. Will you marry me?”
So many tears streamed from her eyes she could barely see him.
He kissed her hand.
“And obviously, you get as much time as you need to give me an answer.”
She swatted his hand away, and immediately grabbed it again.
“No!” She shook her head. “That’s not—I mean, no, I don’t need time, yes, yes, I’ll marry you!”
He grabbed her and kissed her so hard she could barely breathe, but she didn’t mind. They smiled at each other as they sat there together on a lounge chair. Olivia was so happy it hurt.
“I can’t believe you and the fake-out with the contract! I thought you, I don’t know, wanted flannel sheets in the winter or for me to stop waking you up late at night when I stay up too late or wanted me to move to DC or something.”
Max laughed, and then reached into his pocket.
“None of those things, but speaking of sleep—thank goodness you’re so hard to wake up in the morning; that way I got to measure your ring finger.”
He snapped open the box and slid the ring on her finger.
“Oh thank God, it actually fits,” he said.
He kissed her again, then disappeared back into their room.
“Hold on a second.”
He came back out carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cake box in the other.
“I was very nervous about getting the ring through security and to Hawaii without you seeing it, but I was almost as nervous about this.”
Olivia saw the logo on the side of the cake box and smiled.
“You brought a cake all the way here?”
He carefully cut the tape on the box and nodded.
“Yes, which meant I had to pick it up yesterday, and keep it hidden from you the whole time I was packing, and remember to pack it, and . . . well, ‘I’ll bring a cake to Hawaii!’ wasn’t my best decision, I realize that now, but look!”
He flipped open the cake box to reveal . . . a chocolate cake, with blue smudges on top.
Max looked crestfallen.
“It was supposed to say ‘Congratulations, Olivia and Max!’ I guess it melted.”
Olivia leaned over and kissed him.
“That’s okay, it’ll still be delicious. And even if it isn’t, I love you even more than I love cake.”
Max lifted the bottle of champagne in the air.
“I changed my mind: that whole ordeal with the cake was worth it, just to hear you say that.”
They smiled at each other, and popped the champagne cork together.