Today, 5:15 p.m.
FROM: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
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—”