The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Cherie’s truck, and she almost laughed in a moment of
hysteria. Almost.
“Adam,” she called. Her voice was barely audible in the
chaos going on around them, but it was what got through to
him. He turned to look at her, and there were entire worlds in
his eyes. “Adam, don’t,” she whispered. “He’s not worth it.”
Just like that, Adam took a step back and let Tom go. An
elderly gentleman—probably a Harvard dean—began laying
into him, asking for explanations, telling him how
unacceptable his behavior was. Adam ignored him, and
everyone else. He headed straight for Olive, and—
He cradled her head with both hands, fingers sliding
through her hair and holding her tight as he lowered his
forehead to hers. He was warm, and smelled like himself, like
safe and home. His thumbs swept through the mess of tears on
her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, and I’m
sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“It’s not your fault,” she managed to mumble, but he didn’t
seem to hear her.
“I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Dr. Carlsen,” a male voice boomed loudly from behind
them, and she felt Adam’s body stiffen against hers. “I demand
an explanation.”
Adam paid no heed to the man, and kept holding Olive.
“Dr. Carlsen,” he repeated, “this is unacceptable—”
“Adam,” Olive whispered. “You have to answer him.”
Adam exhaled. Then he pressed a long, lingering kiss to
Olive’s forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself.
When she was finally able to get a good look at him, he
seemed more like his usual self.
Calm. Angry at the entire world. In charge.