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“Excuse me!” A woman in red heels waved at Olive. She was blonde and wearing a hot pink mini dress. Her makeup was perfectly done, and she had a wide smile. Olive had never seen her before. She was older, maybe late thirties, early forties.
“Hi. May I help you?”
“I sure hope so. Do you know where I can find an Adam Carlsen?”
Olive’s blood ran cold. “I do. I can show you to his office, if you…?”
“Please. We’re meeting for dinner tonight. He totally said to meet him somewhere else, but I figured I’d pop here instead as a surprise. Also, I’m hella anxious and need to get the whole awkward meet each other thing over with.”
“Ah.”
It was all Olive was capable of.
“We met online,” the woman rushed out. “Do I look okay? I just went through a nasty divorce, and my self-esteem isn’t what it used to be. I haven’t been on a date in years, even when I was married, let alone had sex.”
Let alone had sex.
Let.
Alone.
Had.
Sex.
This woman wanted to have sex with Adam.
Olive’s body was numb.
“You look great. It’s your ex’s loss, for sure.” Olive wasn’t going to be mean. This woman didn’t deserve that. She knocked firmly on Adam’s office. The same office where she laid out ground rules—no sex being the most prominent; very different from how hot pink dress girl was hoping her night with Adam would go—for her own relationship with the man in question.
Fake relationship, she reminded herself. That turned your life upside down and you haven’t recovered from. Introduce her to Adam and walk away. This was your choice.
“Come in.”
If she had a smartwatch, it would be buzzing with an abnormal heart rate alert right now.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Carlsen.”
Adam stood quickly, knocking his chair over. “Olive.”
Olive tried hard to stay in the present moment and not be sucked into a dark void in time. She hoped she was doing a good job at keeping her voice level.
“Your date was lost and needed help finding your office.”
She stepped to the side, letting the woman come into view. Adam’s spine was straight as a rod, jaw clenched.
“Hey, you! I’m Mary. I’m sorry. I know we were supposed to meet in the Union, but I’m a bundle of anxiety. I was worried that if I didn’t come now, I’d cancel. I was just telling your student about my divorce and how this is my first date in years, and—gah! Look at me rambling, I’m sorry.”
Adam looked stricken, his eyes moving between Mary and Olive. She couldn’t bear to look at him directly.
Leave. Now.
“I’ll leave you two to it. Enjoy your evening.”
She closed the door without another glance, but her heart felt like it was being split in two.
Olive decided to leave the lab early the next day. She was tired, having tossed and turned all night. The thought of Adam being on a date sent her into a downward spiral.
Did he have fun?
Did hot pink dress girl have fun?
Did they go home together?
Did he burn her skin the way he did Olive’s?
Did he tell her that he never wanted to let her go, the way he told Olive?
God, the thought made her feel sick. She laid no claim to Adam, but he was hers, in Olive’s reptilian brain. She wanted to snap and snarl at them both last night, asking him who the fuck he thought he was, dating someone else.
Sharing was not caring.
It was wrong. She wasn’t allowed to feel that way because Adam wasn’t hers just because she was his—in a scary, horrible way that Olive didn’t think she would be able to shake.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Adam was holding his passenger door open for another woman. She was blonde as well, but not the same girl as last night. A dirty blonde, this time. He rolled his jaw when he saw Olive, but offered nothing more.
Each day offered more of the same, and Olive didn’t understand it. She knew very little about dating, but did he have no type at all? It seemed like he was trying to date his way through Stanford’s female population. Olive slammed the door to her apartment. She had no reason to be angry, but Adam was dating woman after woman. His tenacity for dating didn’t seem to have slowed since she introduced hot pink dress girl to him nearly two weeks ago. She broke up with Adam so he could be with her. The woman Holden told him about.
The love of Adam’s life, or whatever. No one had a crush on someone for years if they weren’t halfway in love. Olive would know, after all. She loved Adam for years without even knowing his name.
She didn’t break her own heart so he could do whatever he was doing.
She was infuriated.
“Hey, Olive.”
“Hi, Holden.”
He looked at her curiously. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She was anything but, as she rubbed her temples, but this was the second time she saw the strawberry blonde girl. Which meant someone had been good enough to warrant a second date with Adam.
Olive wanted to perish.
“Kalamata. Don’t wait up.”
“Date night?”
It was Friday, after all. Maybe thinking about Malcolm’s love life with Holden would help erase the memory of Adam’s hand hovering over the strawberry blonde’s shoulders. The same hand he used after taking his shirt off of Olive to push her shoulders toward him, forcing her back to arch so his mouth had better access to—
“Double date night with Carlsen and…” Malcolm looked at Holden, who was staring at Olive.
“Addie.”
Her glass shattered when she placed it in the sink.
“Have a great time.”
“Olive, wait—”
She was gone before they could reach her.
It was 1:19 AM. She should go home. It was Friday night, well, technically Saturday morning. She rubbed her temples—it seemed to be her new thing, which did very little in the way of making Olive feel better—wanting everything to be over.
The drama with Tom.
The inevitability of losing Adam.
The next two years of her doctorate, unless that came sooner. Maybe she’d drop out. Move back to Canada and work in a bookstore. She had no idea anymore. Who even cared?
Three hours ago, she received an email stating that her scholarly publication had been denied. She was back to square one. Olive stuttered under the threshold of the break room.
Adam.
He was hunched over on the couch, the heel of his hands pressed to his eyes. There was a bag of chips next to him. She wasn’t sure if she made up the way his lower lip quivered. Possibly. She was sleep-deprived and not herself. The sight made her heart hurt, but even the pain did nothing to tamp down the fury simmering in her gut. Being angry was not her forté.
“Evening. Or morning. Whatever.”
Olive turned her back to him, focusing on filling her water bottle. It didn’t take long.
“Olive.”
He sounded fucked up. Worse than she expected. She spared him a glance as she tightened the lid. He looked even worse with red eyes and tousled hair that looked like he pulled it this way and that. She wasn’t going to make a scene. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Instead, she made her way to the door. Adam called after her, stuttering over his words.
“Are you leaving for the night?”
She spun to face him. “Why? Do you need me to show someone else to your office? I guess I should add concierge to my email signature.”
Well, then. So much for not causing a scene.
He flinched.
“I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
Fix it.
“I know. She told me you were supposed to meet somewhere else. I would say I hope it went well, but given all the other women, clearly it didn’t.”
Not quite, but okay.
Adam narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t press. It made her angrier. She was itching to fight.
“What happened to the strawberry blonde tonight? She was a second date, right? Quite the accomplishment. When can I expect a wedding invitation?”
He clenched his jaw now, as though forcing himself to keep quiet. His voice was steady when he spoke again.
“Do you need a ride home?”
His kindness made her even angrier. Close to DEFCON 1 for Olive’s standards. Her voice broke. “I’ll walk. Thanks.”
“It’s late, Olive.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Her skin burned from where Adam grabbed her hand. She wasn’t allowed to leave, it would seem.
“Are you angry with me?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Not at all. I’m inspired, actually. I think I’ll go download Tinder.”
Adam’s nostrils flared. He gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what? We’re just having a conversation. That’s what colleagues do, isn’t it?”
He didn’t look calm, but his voice was surprisingly even. “Please let me drive you home.”
“No.” Her voice cracked.
“Olive.”
“Stay away from me.”
She didn’t miss the tremor in his lower lip, being this close. There was no making it up this time. Olive hated his silence almost as much as the loss of his touch.
“Why are you dating all these girls?”
Adam scoffed. “We’re not having this discussion.”
“I’ll let you know when I meet someone, then. We can go on a double date. It’ll be great.” Her voice was venomous. Olive wasn’t sure she could remember a time when she’d felt this hurt. Losing her mom was a different kind of pain; this felt like betrayal.
“Olive,” he warned. His neck was growing hot, redness spreading from the base.
“What? You went on one with Holden and Malcom tonight. I’m no different. I mean nothing to you. I am nothing.”
He rounded to face her. “Fuck. Off.”
Tears were burning in her eyes. Adam’s voice was no more than a hiss.
“Don’t you dare tell me what or who does or doesn’t mean something to me. You are everything, Olive, but we’re done with this conversation. I’m driving you home, and I’m not asking. Get your things.”
You are everything, Olive.
She wanted to shout at him that he was a liar. Scream that he wasn’t allowed to play with her heart.
“Why are you dating them? Why aren’t you dating her? I broke up with you so you could—” Her pain was simply unbearable. She wanted to break something. “You know what? Forget it, and fuck you right back! You’re not driving me home, so get over yourself.”
Suddenly, it was too much. Her head was spinning, and she needed air. Olive brushed past him and made her way down the hallway. Adam rushed after her.
“Dating who?” Adam insisted.
“No one.”
“Dating who, Olive? What did you mean by that—dating her. Who is ‘her’?”
“Holden told me about the woman you’ve been wanting to date for years. I didn’t want to get in the way of your happiness.”
“The woman I—is that why you broke up with me?”
His entire demeanor changed. He sounded almost relieved. His hope swelled in her chest before promptly dying. Olive had no hope left.
She was not his.
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“Let it go. Date whoever you want.” She began stuffing items in her bag. “I have no right to be upset.”
“Talk to me,” Adam begged. “If you want to fight, we can fight. We can do anything. Just talk to me, Sweetheart. What did you mean in the break room?”
“Nothing! I mean nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. What you’re doing is fine. It was wrong of me, and—”
“It’s not fine!” Adam boomed. “It’s not fine. It’s the opposite of fine. The only reason I’m trying to do this is to try and get over you, because I’m terrified I’m going to spend a lifetime being unable to think of anything other than how much I love you. It’s already been three years, after all.
“So yeah. I’ve been trying to date whoever would be willing just to see if I can feel anything. Something for another person. But do you want to know what happened? I couldn’t even make it to a restaurant with someone else. Not one other woman. I ended up driving each of them home and hating that I’m not good enough for you and being disgusted with myself because even saying hello to another woman felt like cheating, and we’re not even together. I can’t bear the fact that all we’ll ever have is a month. I would do anything to make you happy, Olive. You have no idea how much I want to wring Jeremy’s neck for giving up a chance with you that I would kill for.”
Olive was stunned into silence.
“But Holden said—”
“Holden was talking about you. I don’t know what you two spoke about, but he had to be, because you’re the only woman I’ve even thought about for over a decade.”
She shook her head. “No. That makes no sense.”
“Answer my question,” he snapped.
Her mind was reeling. “Which one?”
“What did you mean in the break room, Olive. Why did you break up with me?”
“I can’t tell you.”
They were making their way down the hallway. Adam wasn’t going to let her leave. She knew it. Moody Ass Adam was speaking.
“Well, you’re going to. I’ll give you thirty seconds to get over yourself. You’re not leaving this building until you tell me.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, Olive. I would dare. And I think you like that about me.” He glanced at his watch, tilting her chin upward. “Thirteen seconds.”
“If you think I’m going to do what you say just because—”
“I just said that I love you! If you broke up with me for something as inconsequential as thinking I wanted to be with someone else, then—”
She threw her bag down, poking him in the chest with her finger.
“Fine! Okay, fine. I love you, too, but that doesn’t mean we can be together. It’s too complicated, Adam. I was trying to help you, plus, it’s what we—”
Adam gripped her waist, pushing her into a small room. The next she knew, Olive was pressed against a wall, with Adam’s lips devouring hers. She moaned, opening her mouth and pulling him against her. God, she missed his hair.
She forgot how perfect it was to be connected with him. Olive wanted to be even closer and didn’t protest when he snuck his hands beneath her shirt, letting them span her ribcage before peeling it off completely. Adam tore his mouth away, kissing her neck instead, whispering into her skin. It gave Olive a moment to take in their surroundings.
“Is this the bathroom we met in?”
The sound that left his chest was sweet—almost pain mixing with relief and something more; something darker that was finally being set free—and Olive was sure it would be burned into her mind forever as he ground his hips into hers. “Yes. The day you interviewed.”
“Your b-bathroom.”
“You remember?”
She was going to have a mark on her collarbone, she thought. Adam was kissing her everywhere, pausing only to let Olive peel his shirt up and over his head. “Mhmm. I looked for you everywhere my first year. Thought you were a grad student.”
Adam wedged his thigh between her legs, giving Olive the pressure and friction she needed.
“I’m never keeping anything from you again.”
He gripped her hips, rolling them against the denim of his jeans. Her leggings were no match, and Adam was more than willing to exploit that fact as he whispered all the things he dreamt of doing with her into her ear in between telling Olive how much he missed her. Their kisses were as messy and consuming as the heat blooming and breaking in her core. Adam swore, breaking their kiss only so he could watch her.
“I want to be with you. I’ll move to Boston if you want. Whatever you need, say the word.”
Olive’s mind was muddled. That had to be why she said it. She had been so careful up until now. “I’m not moving to Boston. I’m commuting to Berkeley.”
Adam froze. “Pardon?”
“Mhmm. I’m staying here.” Her legs were shaking, and she had had enough of PG-13. Olive wanted to be connected to him again. She fumbled with his belt buckle, hands trembling. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But Adam?”
He looked at her curiously. Lovingly. “Yes?”
“No more. Get rid of the other women. I don’t share.”