“You just want to make out with Holden, don’t you?”
Malcolm smiled and leaned his head against her shoulder. “My kalamata knows me well.”
It seemed impossible that she’d been gone for less than a week. That all the chaos had unfolded in the span of a few days. Olive felt dazed, shellshocked, as though her brain was winded from running a marathon. She was tired and wanted to sleep. She was hungry and wanted to eat. She was
angry and wanted to see Tom get what he deserved. She was anxious, as twitchy as a damaged nerve, and she wanted a hug. Preferably from Adam.
In San Francisco, she folded her now-useless coat inside her suitcase and then sat on it. She checked her phone for new messages while Malcolm went to buy a bottle of Diet Coke. There were several from Anh, just checking in from Boston, and one from her landlord about the elevator being out of commission. She rolled her eyes, switched to her academic email, and found several unread messages flagged as important.
She tapped on the red exclamation point and opened one.
Today, 5:15 p.m.
FROM: Anna-Wiley@berkeley.edu
TO: Aysegul-Aslan@stanford.edu CC:
Olive-Smith@stanford.edu
SUBJECT: Re: Pancreatic Cancer Project
Aysegul,
Thank you for reaching out to me. I had the privilege of seeing Olive Smith’s talk at SBD—we were on the same panel —and I was very impressed with her work on early detection tools for pancreatic cancer. I’d love to have her in my lab next year! Maybe the three of us can chat more on the phone soon?
Best,
Anna
Olive gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand, and immediately opened another email.
Today, 3:19 p.m.
FROM: Robert-Gordon@umn.edu
TO: Aysegul-Aslan@stanford.edu, Olive-Smith@stanford.edu SUBJECT: Pancreatic Cancer Project
Dr. Aslan, Ms. Smith,
Your work on pancreatic cancer is fascinating, and I would welcome the opportunity for a collaboration. We should set up a Zoom meeting.
-R
There were two more emails. Four total from cancer researchers, all following up on Dr. Aslan’s introductory message and saying they’d love having Olive in their labs. She felt a surge of happiness so violent, it almost made her dizzy.
“Ol, look who I ran into.”
Olive shot up to her feet. Malcolm was there, holding Holden’s hand, and barely a step behind them—
Adam. Looking tired, and handsome, and as large in real life as he’d been in her mind for the past twenty-four hours. Looking straight at her. Olive recalled the words he’d said last night in the restaurant and felt her cheeks heat, her chest constrict, her heart beat out of her skin.
“Hear me out,” Holden started without even saying hi, “the four of us: double date. Tonight.”
Adam ignored him and came to stand next Olive. “How are you?” he asked in a low tone.
“Good.” For the first time in days, it wasn’t even a lie. Adam was here.
And all those emails were in her inbox. “You?”
“Good,” he replied with a half smile, and she had a weird feeling that much like her, he wasn’t lying. Her heart picked up even more.
“What about Chinese?” Holden interjected. “Everyone like Chinese here?”
“I’m cool with Chinese,” Malcolm muttered, though he didn’t seem enthusiastic at the idea of a double date. Likely because he didn’t want to sit across from Adam for an entire meal and relive the trauma of his graduate advisory committee meetings.
“Olive?”
“Um . . . I like Chinese.”
“Perfect. So does Adam, so—”
“I’m not having dinner out,” Adam said.
Holden frowned. “Why?”
“I have better things to do.”
“Like what? Olive’s coming, too.”
