Page 193 - The Love Hypothesis

He went still for a couple of seconds. And then: “I see.”

“Yep. A pretty bold assumption, but . . .” She spread her arms and
shrugged.
He bit the inside of his cheek, looking pensive. “I’m sorry you won’t get

to room with them.”
She waved her hand. “Oh, that’s not it. That would have been fun, but

it’s just that now I need to find something else nearby, and there are no
affordable options.” Her eyes fell on the screen of her laptop. “I’m thinking

of booking this motel that’s an hour away and—”
“Won’t they know?”

She looked up from the grainy, shady-looking picture of the place.
“Mm?”
“Won’t Anh know that you’re not staying with me?”

Oh. “Where are you staying?”
“The conference hotel.”

Of course. “Well.” She scratched her nose. “I wouldn’t tell her. I don’t
think she’ll pay too much attention.”

“But she’ll notice if you’re staying one hour away.”
“I . . .” Yes. They would notice, and ask questions, and Olive would

have to come up with a bunch of excuses and even more half-truths to deal
with it. Add a few blocks to this Jenga tower of lies she’d been building for
weeks. “I’ll figure it out.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault.”

“One could argue that it is, in fact, my fault.”
“Not at all.”

“I would offer to pay for your hotel room, but I doubt there’s anything
left in a ten-mile radius.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head emphatically. “And I wouldn’t accept it.
It’s not a cup of coffee. And a scone. And a cookie. And a pumpkin
Frappuccino.” She batted her eyes at him and leaned forward, trying to

change the topic. “Which, by the way, is new on the menu. You could
totally buy it for me, and that would make my day.”