Page 294 - The Love Hypothesis

Well, the lying hadn’t worked out too well. In fact, it had downright

sucked lately. Time for plan B, then.
Time for some truth.
“No. I don’t want to deal with the consequences.”

Sarah Helen smiled. “Then, my friend, you better go do your thing.” She
pressed a button, and the passenger door unlocked with a clunk. “And you

better give me a perfect rating. For the free psychotherapy.”
This time, Olive managed to get out of the car. She tipped Sarah Helen

150 percent, took a deep breath, and made her way into the restaurant.
—

SHE FOUND ADAM immediately. He was big, after all, and the restaurant was
not, which made for a pretty quick search. Not to mention that he was

sitting with about ten people who looked a lot like very serious Harvard
professors. And, of course, Tom.

Fuck my life, she thought, slipping past the busy hostess and walking
toward Adam. She figured that her bright red duffle coat would attract his
attention, then she’d gesticulate for him to check his phone, and text him to

please, please, please give her five minutes of his time when dinner was
over. She figured that telling him tonight was the best option—his interview

would be over tomorrow, and he’d be able to make his decision with the
truth at his disposal. She figured her plan might work.

She had not figured that Adam would notice her while in conversation
with a young, beautiful faculty member. She had not figured that he’d

suddenly stop speaking, eyes widening and lips parting; that he’d mutter
“Excuse me” while staring at Olive and stand from the table, ignoring the
curious looks in his direction; that he’d march to the entrance, where Olive

was, with quick, long strides and a concerned expression.
“Olive, are you okay?” he asked her, and—

Oh. His voice. And his eyes. And the way his hands came up, as if to
touch her, to make sure that she was intact and really there—though right

before his fingers could close around her biceps he hesitated and let them
fall back to his sides.