Page 264 - The Love Hypothesis

Tom would make us infinitely more productive. Professionally, moving’s a

no-brainer.”
She’d braced herself, but it still felt like a punch in the sternum that left
her void of air, caused her stomach to twist and her heart to drop. Tom. This

was about Tom.
“Of course,” she whispered. It helped her voice sound firmer. “It makes

sense.”
“And I could help you acclimatize, too,” he offered, significantly more

bashful. “If you want to. To Boston. To Tom’s lab. Show you around, if
you . . . if you’re feeling lonely. Buy you that pumpkin stuff.”

She couldn’t answer that. She really—she could not answer that. So she
hung her head for a few moments, ordered herself to buck the hell up, and
lifted it again to smile at him.

She could do this. She would do this. “What time are you leaving
tomorrow?” He was probably just moving to another hotel, closer to the

Harvard campus.
“Early.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and buried her face in his throat. They were
not going to sleep, not one second. It would be such a waste. “You don’t

have to wake me up, when you leave.”
“You’re not going to carry my bags downstairs?”
She laughed into his neck and burrowed deeper into him. This, she

thought, this was going to be their perfect night. And their last.