Page 263 - The Love Hypothesis
P. 263

Except he’d never said that. Olive thought back to their conversations,

                and—he’d  complained  about  the  department  withholding  his  research
                funds,  about  them  suspecting  that  he  was  going  to  leave,  about  the
                assumptions  people  had  made  because  of  his  collaboration  with  Tom,

                but . .  . he’d never said that they were wrong.  He’d  said that the frozen
                funds had been earmarked for research—for the current year. That’s why

                he’d wanted them released as soon as possible.
                    “Harvard,” she whispered, feeling incredibly stupid. “You’re moving to

                Harvard.”
                    “It’s  not  decided  yet.”  His  hand  was  still  wrapped  around  her  neck,

                thumb  swiping  back  and  forth  across  the  pulse  at  the  base  of  her  throat.
                “I’ve been asked to interview, but there’s no official offer.”
                    “When? When will you interview?” she asked, but didn’t really need his

                answer. It was all starting to make sense in her head. “Tomorrow. You’re
                not going home.” He’d  never said he would.  He’d  only told her he’d be

                leaving the conference early. Oh God. Stupid, Olive. Stupid. “You’re going
                to Harvard. To interview for the rest of the week.”

                    “It  was  the  only  way  to  avoid  making  the  department  even  more
                suspicious,” he explained. “The conference was a good cover.”

                    She nodded. It wasn’t good—it was perfect. And God, she felt nauseous.
                And  weak-kneed, even lying down.  “They’ll offer you the position,” she
                murmured, even though he must already know. He was Adam Carlsen, after

                all. And he’d been asked to interview. They were courting him.
                    “It’s not certain yet.”

                    It was. Of course it was. “Why Harvard?” she blurted. “Why—why do
                you want to leave Stanford?” Her voice shook a little, even though she did

                her best to sound calm.
                    “My parents live on the East Coast, and while I have my issues with

                them, they’re going to need me close sooner or later.” He paused, but Olive
                could tell that he wasn’t done. She braced herself. “The main reason is Tom.
                And the grant. I want to transition to doing more similar work, but that will

                only be possible if we show good results. Being in the same department as
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