Page 69 of Betting on the Brainiac

“Sorry, Madi. I see through it now. Not a princess.”

This is why I haven’t ever told anyone about the inheritance or my whole plan before. To most people, it’s unthinkable to give up twenty million dollars. I know they’ll think I’m a saint or a lunatic. I’m neither. I grew up with wealth. I walked away from it, and I’m happier for it. But some of it spoiled me permanently, and trying to act like it hasn’t feels dishonest with Oliver.

“I’m addicted to quality,” I tell him. “I’ll always have a luxury car. I will always have nice clothes and shoes. I’ll always have an indulgent beauty routine. But I expect to earn it, not be given it, so I guess that’s my redeeming quality.”

“You’ve got more than one, Madi. But why not go into a different career now? You would kill it in finance.”

I shrug, trying not to show that I’m pleased he sees that. “I could, but for eighty hours a week and no time to give to Teak Heart. Right now, I’m focused on waiting out my trust. Once this is done, I have so many paths I want to explore in the nonprofit sector.”

Oliver doesn’t answer. He studies my face, gives the tiniest nod, and sighs. “Can I borrow some of whatever makes you awesome?”

“Bottle Blonde in a medium shade of Texas Cliché? No offense, but it’s not your color.”

He smiles. “Stop. That’s not it. I meant whatever keeps you moving forward despite the constant obstacles.”

“You don’t have that much rage.” He rolls his eyes, and I reach out to touch his arm. “For real, the gross fog of my self-pity is evaporating enough for me to see that you have your own problems weighing on you. What’s up?”

He climbs to his feet and holds out his hand. “Nothing that a Madison hug can’t fix.”

His hug is good medicine too. He’s not scrawny. He’s lean, but his chest is broad and satisfyingly warm and solid as I rest against it, holding him tight around the waist. “I’m squishing you with contagious rage to help you fix whatever is stressing you out.”

In a fake strangled voice, he gasps, “Thanks. The anger is definitely coming through.”

I revel in the hug for another long moment, and finally Oliver clears his throat. “Are you good now?”

“I’m good.”

“So I can leave you with the kittens and it won’t feel like abandonment?”

“Nope.” I step back and point to the exit. “Get out of here. I have cat friends to hold me down.” It’s true that I’m fine now.

But I miss him when he goes.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Madison

I don’t see Oliveragain for three days.

I text him the next day when he hasn’t shown up to the club by his normal time. He says he has meetings onsite at his office. Same thing happens Wednesday and again on Thursday.

By Friday, I’m pretty sure he’s ghosting me. I talk it out with Tabitha and the babies in the shed when I get in that morning—after I kick away the dead mouse Tabitha left for me.

“Hello, Tuxie,” I say, scooping the kitten out of his bed. Their ears have unfolded and their eyes are open, giving them one million more cuteness points.

Tabitha pulls the other babies out of the cat cave, one at a time, and sets them in front of me in the center of the shed floor.

“Maybe I hit Oliver with too much truth, kiddos. I’ve always known it would be a lot for anyone to process, and I guess this is my proof.” I keep my tone light to lessen the sting, but for Oliverbeing a new friend, it feels crappier than I would have expected for him to disappear.

“I learned something important, Tabitha,” I say to the mama as she grooms one of the tabbies. “My life will never make sense to anyone else.”

My phone buzzes. I check the screen and frown. It’s one of the rescues we’ve been waitlisted with. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jayden at Toe Bean Rescue. We’ve found a foster for the litter you rescued.”

Oh.

Oh.

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