Page 68 - The Love Hypothesis

“You evil creature.”

“I was kidding! Wait, don’t leave, I have something important to tell
you.”
He paused by the door, scowling. “I’ve reached my maximum daily

intake of Carlsen-related conversation. Anything further will be lethal, so
—”

“Tom Benton, the cancer researcher from Harvard, reached out to me!
It’s not decided yet, but he might be interested in having me in his lab next

year.”
“Oh my God.” Malcolm walked back to her, delighted. “Ol, this is

amazing! I thought none of the researchers you contacted had gotten back
to you?”
“Not for the longest time. But now Benton has, and you know how

famous and well-known he is. He probably has more research funds than I
could ever dream of. It would be—”

“Fantastic. It would really be fantastic. Ol. I am so proud of you.”
Malcolm took her hands in his. His face-splitting grin slowly gentled. “And

your mom would be so proud, too.”
Olive looked away, blinking rapidly. She didn’t want to cry, not tonight.

“Nothing is set in stone. I’ll have to persuade him. It will involve quite a bit
of politicking and going through the whole ‘pitch me your research’ bit.
Which as you know is not my forte. It might still not work out—”

“It will work out.”
Right. Yes. She needed to be optimistic. She nodded, attempting a smile.

“But even if it didn’t . . . she would still be proud.”
Olive nodded again. When a single tear managed to slide down her

cheek, she decided to let it be.
Forty-five minutes later, she and Malcolm sat on their minuscule couch,

arms pressed together, watching reruns of American Ninja Warrior while
they ate a very undersalted veggie casserole.