Page 85 of Betting on the Brainiac

I’m married.

That’s my first thought when I wake up and stare at an unfamiliar ceiling on Sunday morning.

I sit up to look at an unfamiliar wall, walk down an unfamiliar flight of stairs, and check on cats who live with me now. I’d gotten them last night since I had time on my hands after my poolside wedding cleanup.

“Hi, roommates,” I say as I walk into the living room. “You have more furniture here than I do.” I’ve got my sofa, coffee table, and television set up. They have their luxury cat cave plus their feeder and cat litter robot that might be more technologically advanced than my stupid-big TV resting against the wall, waiting to be mounted with more hardware than a NASCAR roll cage.

I never have much in the way of groceries because I’m not home enough lately, but I sit on the sofa with a box of semi-stale donuts leftover from the party while I watch the cats. Icouldwatch TV—my new next-door neighbor gave me their Wi-Fi password until mine is connected next week—but why would I when I’ve got Animal Planet as hi-def as it gets on my carpet?

They entertain me as I finish the donuts and wash them down with Gatorade while I plan my day. It will involve boxes. That’s all I know for sure. I’d unpacked and organized my bedroom last night like any new groom does on his wedding day. But there are still more boxes to go. Ten, maybe.

I’ll need to spend most of the day working, but I’ll tackle a few kitchen boxes first. I wouldn’t even have that many if my mom didn’t insist on me having a fully stocked kitchen, adding more to it with every visit.

Have I ever needed a table setting for eight? No. And definitely not with placemats and coordinating napkins. They were a pain to pack and move, but as I open a box and choose a cabinet for the dishes inside, I’m smiling. Pulling each one out reminds me of when my mom used to pack notes for us in our lunches. When we were little, it was stuff like “Every winner was once a beginner, you’ve got this!” Shestillpacked us snacks for high school, but the notes changed to messages like “Never make the same mistake twice; shoot for five or six times just to be sure.”

Three boxes later I’m on the sofa, Tabitha beside me while I borrow the neighbor’s Wi-Fi. Tabitha will try to settle on my lap soon, but I have laptop space for now. Time to check the code the team turned in Friday.

The team. Man, they are something else.

I’ve barely slipped into focus mode when there’s a knock at the door, so I get up to answer it and realize I don’t have a shirt on. I check the peephole and open it when I see Madison.

She stares at me in shock.

I glance down. “What?”

“You have tattoos.”

“Oh. Yeah.” They cover my shoulders, and I have another one on my right pec.

I wave her in. Her eyes are puffed from sleep, hair in a messy bun, no makeup, and she’s in cutoffs and a UT tank top.

Still hot.

She passes me with a very obvious examination of my chest. “What’s that tattoo?”

I brush my fingers against the ones and zeroes stacked in five even rows. “Lockein binary code.”

She looks like she’s about to say something but she shuts her mouth and walks straight over to the kitties.

I slide a key off the kitchen counter and walk over to give it to her, settling down on the floor to watch the kittens with her. “You don’t have to knock when you come over here, future ex-wife. I promise not to walk around naked.”

“I wouldn’t stop you.” She claps her hand over her mouth.

Well, well, well. I give her a fake stern look. “Madison, I am not a piece of meat.”

She drops her hand to give me the kind of smile I expect she uses when she accidentally breaks a bar glass or something. “Sorry. Still in work mode. Sometimes that part of my brain works on automatic.”

I don’t love that. It was better when I thought she meant it for a half second. But this is exactly the kind of thing that can’t become a habit between us. Whenever my sister goes out with a new guy, my mom always jokes, “Has he bewitched you, body and soul?” Mr. Darcy, of course. My mom sometimes will ask me, “But was there a hand flex?” That’s also a Mr. Darcy thing, when he’s so into Elizabeth that he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

Madison has absolutely bewitched my body, so there’s definitely been a hand flex. But I have the tiniest chance of not having my soul bewitched too, and it’s time to put up that defense.

“Speaking of work, I have good news. I’ve got a new office in my building. It’s more like a closet, but it’s on a different floor than the company suite, so I can work with less disruption.”

Madison has been nuzzling a kitten, but her head shoots up. “You don’t have to leave Gatsby’s.”

Oh, I definitely do. “It’s not a big deal. It’ll fit the budget. And don’t worry, I’ll call this my thirty-day notice and pay you for another month.”

“I don’t need the money,” she says. “I was using it to buy stuff from the store, but I’m going to be a millionaire in a couple of days, remember?”

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