Page 204 - The Love Hypothesis

He snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. “You’re . . .” He

swallowed and shifted on his feet. “Here.”
“Yep.” She nodded, still smiling. “Just arrived. My flight landed on
time, surprisingly.”

Adam seemed a little slow. Maybe jet-lagged from his own flight, or
perhaps last night he’d been out late with his famous scientist friends, or

with the mysterious woman Holden had talked about. He just stared at
Olive, silent for several moments, and when he spoke, it was only to say,

“You look . . .”
She glanced down at her dress and heels, wondering if her eye makeup

was already smudged. She’d put it on three whole minutes ago, so it was
more than likely. “Professional?”
“That’s not what I . . .” Adam closed his eyes and shook his head, as if

collecting himself. “But, yes. You do. How are you?”
“Good. Fine. I mean, I wish I were dead. But aside from that.”

He laughed silently and moved closer. “You’ll be okay.” She had
thought sweaters were a good look for him, but only because she’d never

seen him wear a blazer. He had a secret weapon all along, she thought,
trying not to stare too hard. And now he’s unleashing it. Damn him.

“Agreed.” She pushed her hair back and smiled. “After I die.”
“You’re fine. You have a script. You memorized it. Your slides are
good.”

“I think they were better before you made me change the PowerPoint
background.”

“It was acid green.”
“I know. It made me happy.”

“It made me nauseous.”
“Mm. Anyway, thanks again for helping me figure it out.” And for

answering the 139 questions I asked. Thank you for taking less than ten
minutes to reply to my emails, every time, even when it was 5:30 a.m. and
you misspelled “consensus,” which is unusual of you and makes me suspect

that maybe you were still half asleep. “And for letting me crash with you.”
“No problem.”