Page 81 of Betting on the Brainiac

“Cool,” Sami says. “More importantly, this is also a party to welcome our new neighbor, Oliver. Say hey, everyone.”

Everyone shouts, “Hey, Oliver,” including me, and Oliver laughs and waves.

“Our happy uncouple will now read their own vows,” Sami says.

Oliver reaches into his shorts pocket, making us laugh again when he pulls out a grocery receipt and squints at the back. He clears his throat. “Madison, I solemnly promise to split the vet bills, and more importantly, the vet appointments for our temporary fur children.”

I wipe a pretend tear from my eye.

“Your turn, Mads,” Sami says.

I glance around my napkin dress train like I can’t remember where I put mine before I give a small “Aha” and pull one of the napkins loose. More laughter. I clear my throat. “I promise to give you thirty percent custody of the remote when we hang out.”

“Objection,” Josh says, standing up. “Did you let her negotiate that? That is way too low.”

“I’m not an idiot, Josh,” Oliver says before turning to meet my gaze. “Fifty-fifty. Final offer.”

I cross my arms. “Happy wife, happy life.”

The neighbors get in on it, ladies on my side, the men on his. After some back and forth, I heave an annoyed sigh and say, “I get it one hundred percent of the time at my house, fifty-fifty at your house.”

“Take it,” Hugo says. “I’ve never heard of any man getting terms that good.”

Oliver nods that he accepts.

“That’s beautiful, kids,” Sami says. “You will now exchange the tokens of the vows you’re making before your friends and neighbors.”

I give Sami a confused look. We aren’t exchanging rings. She winks at me and nods to Oliver, who smiles.

Ava crouches and calls to Migos the Cranky Yorkie, “Migos, come. Treat!”

Mrs. Lipsky releases him, and he waddles over, his collar jingling. Ava detaches something from it and hands it to Sami. I catch a glint of gold and sparkle. What in the . . .

Sami hands it off to Oliver. “Do you, Oliver Octavian Locke, take this woman to be your legally wedded wife for business purposes for a year and a day?”

“Octavian?” Charlie says. “That’s your middle name?”

“Because he’s the eighth grandkid.” I grin as I explain because that discovery was my favorite part of the week.

“I do take Madison as my legally wedded wife for a year and a day,” Oliver says. He holds up something gold and shiny, about two inches long. “Madison, I offer you our ironclad prenuptial and this gold-plated and bedazzled Slurpee cup keychain as a symbol of our deal.”

I hold out my hand for it and giggle at the tiny pink crystals forming the slushy swirl on top of the gold cup.

“Madison Leigh Armstrong, do you accept this keychain?” Sami asks.

I hook it to the waist of my bridal train to whistles and claps. “I do.”

“Very exciting,” Sami says. She presses something cool and metallic into my hand. “Please present Oliver with the symbol this ceremony and commitment deserves.”

I open my hand and let the Slurpee keychain dangle and catch the light. This one has silver slushy crystals, not pink. “I’m sorryI got you . . . mushroom flavor, I think? But I wanted to give you a neutral color for accessorizing.”

Oliver fans his eyes with both hands, like he’s trying to hold back tears. “How thoughtful! I had no idea. Luckily, silver was exactly the color I wanted out of the only two choices I had.”

“Oliver Octa—” Sami starts.

“Just Oliver is fine,” he interrupts.

“Do you accept this keychain?”

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