The Love Hypothesis (Love Hypothesis #1)(100)

“Send me that recording immediately,” he murmured at her. She nodded, and he turned to the elderly man who’d just approached them. “We need to talk. Privately. Your office?” The other man looked shocked and offended, but he nodded stiffly. Behind him, Tom was making a fuss, and Adam clenched his jaw. “Keep him away from me.” He turned to Olive before leaving, bending closer to her and lowering his voice. His palm was warm against her elbow.

“I am going to take care of this,” he told her. There was something determined, earnest in his eyes. Olive had never felt safer, or more loved. “And then I’ll come find you, and I’ll take care of you.”





Chapter Twenty-One



HYPOTHESIS: Wearing expired contact lenses will cause bacterial and/or fungal infections that will have repercussions for years to come.



“Holden sent a message for you.”

Olive looked away from the window and to Malcolm, who’d turned off airplane mode the second they’d landed in Charlotte for their layover. “Holden?”

“Yeah. Well, it’s technically from Carlsen.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“He lost his phone charger and can’t text you, but he and Holden are on their way back to SFO.”

“Ah.” She nodded, feeling a small rush of relief. That explained Adam’s silence. He hadn’t been in touch since last night. She’d worried that he’d been arrested and was pondering emptying her savings account to help cover his bail. All twelve dollars and sixteen cents. “Where’s their layover?”

“No layover.” Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Direct flight. They’ll be at SFO ten minutes after us, even though they’re only now leaving Boston. Eat the rich.”

“Did Holden say anything about . . .”

Malcolm shook his head. “Their plane is about to leave, but we can wait for them at SFO. I’m sure Adam will have some updates for you.”

“You just want to make out with Holden, don’t you?”

Malcolm smiled and leaned his head against her shoulder. “My kalamata knows me well.”

It seemed impossible that she’d been gone for less than a week. That all the chaos had unfolded in the span of a few days. Olive felt dazed, shell-shocked, as though her brain was winded from running a marathon. She was tired and wanted to sleep. She was hungry and wanted to eat. She was angry and wanted to see Tom get what he deserved. She was anxious, as twitchy as a damaged nerve, and she wanted a hug. Preferably from Adam.

In San Francisco, she folded her now-useless coat inside her suitcase and then sat on it. She checked her phone for new messages while Malcolm went to buy a bottle of Diet Coke. There were several from Anh, just checking in from Boston, and one from her landlord about the elevator being out of commission. She rolled her eyes, switched to her academic email, and found several unread messages flagged as important.

She tapped on the red exclamation point and opened one.



Today, 5:15 p.m.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Re: Pancreatic Cancer Project


Aysegul,

Thank you for reaching out to me. I had the privilege of seeing Olive Smith’s talk at SBD—we were on the same panel—and I was very impressed with her work on early detection tools for pancreatic cancer. I’d love to have her in my lab next year! Maybe the three of us can chat more on the phone soon?


Best,

Anna



Olive gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand, and immediately opened another email.



Today, 3:19 p.m.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

SUBJECT: Pancreatic Cancer Project


Dr. Aslan, Ms. Smith,

Your work on pancreatic cancer is fascinating, and I would welcome the opportunity for a collaboration. We should set up a Zoom meeting.

-R



There were two more emails. Four total from cancer researchers, all following up on Dr. Aslan’s introductory message and saying they’d love having Olive in their labs. She felt a surge of happiness so violent, it almost made her dizzy.

“Ol, look who I ran into.”

Olive shot up to her feet. Malcolm was there, holding Holden’s hand, and barely a step behind them—

Adam. Looking tired, and handsome, and as large in real life as he’d been in her mind for the past twenty-four hours. Looking straight at her. Olive recalled the words he’d said last night in the restaurant and felt her cheeks heat, her chest constrict, her heart beat out of her skin.

“Hear me out,” Holden started without even saying hi, “the four of us: double date. Tonight.”

Adam ignored him and came to stand next Olive. “How are you?” he asked in a low tone.

“Good.” For the first time in days, it wasn’t even a lie. Adam was here. And all those emails were in her inbox. “You?”

“Good,” he replied with a half smile, and she had a weird feeling that much like her, he wasn’t lying. Her heart picked up even more.

“What about Chinese?” Holden interjected. “Everyone like Chinese here?”

“I’m cool with Chinese,” Malcolm muttered, though he didn’t seem enthusiastic at the idea of a double date. Likely because he didn’t want to sit across from Adam for an entire meal and relive the trauma of his graduate advisory committee meetings.