Betting on the Brainiac: a Sweet Romantic Comedy

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

I should not be hearing this fight between Madison and her dad, but when I drove up to find a Bentley parked beside Madison’s car, I had a feeling I knew who it belonged to.

They didn’t hear me over their raised voices when I came in, and when I paused to assess the situation, the anger was so palpable that I couldn’t leave until I was sure it wouldn’t boil over.

I’ve heard way more than I should have, paralyzed about what to do. Do I go out and come back in? Stay put until they’re done?

“Because you lost every appeal!”

Ohhh, that’s not good. Madison is teetering on the edge.

“I am so sick of your—”

I jostle a stack of whiskey crates to distract them, and everything goes dead silent. I pause, take a deep breath, and step into view. “Whoops, Mads, I might have—”

Her father makes a stiff half turn and fixes me with a barely concealed glare. He exudes money and power. I bet his shoes cost more than two of my car payments, and his salt-and-pepper mane definitely only goes to an expensive salon.

“Oh, hey,” I say. “Are you Heinrich? I’m Oliver. Thanks for letting me work in here.”

“I’m not Heinrich,” he says, already turning back to his daughter like I’m not worth finishing the sentence. “Call me when you’re ready to talk about this, Madison Leigh.”

“Bye, Daddy,” she says, and her tone is so sweet it’s poison. I only notice Mr. Armstrong flinch because he brushes past me on the way out, but he doesn’t otherwise acknowledge me.

When the door closes behind him, I lean against the wall across from the office, waiting to see what Madison needs.

She stares at me, but she doesn’t see me. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to be Team Madison.” Enough to wish it were my right to step into the office and hold her, to tell her that everything will be okay.

She focuses on me. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

She shakes her head, but it’s a slow, careful gesture, like it hurts.

“Will you be okay if I go grab something outside really quick?”

“Of course.” She turns back to the desk like she’s ready to get back to work. But there’s nothing on the desk.

I practically run to the shed. Tabitha is with the kittens, who are as active as I’ve ever seen them, wobbling until their big heads pull them off-balance and they tip into each other like furry little drunks.

“Tabitha.” She pushes herself up to sit on her back legs and watches me, unblinking. “We’ve been leaving you out here because you seem to like it, and the experts say to avoid disturbing the kittens. But Madison needs some love right now, so can we bring her the babies?”

Tabitha’s tail twitches, then she stands and gives me a short meow. I shuffle out of her way, and she walks past me, stopping on the asphalt to look at me like Well?

“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her. “Thank you.” I pull up the hem of my sweatshirt to make an apron and scoop up the floofs, settling them in one at a time.

By the time I make my careful way to the office, Tabitha is on Madison’s lap. She gives Madison a single pat on the cheek with her paw, and I swear it’s a question.

A tear slides down Madison’s cheek, and Tabitha looks over her shoulder at me. I am expected to fix this.

This tear is a shock. I’ve seen her be funny, charming, sassy, snarky, and goofy over the kittens, but I’ve never seen her upset until today. Never truly annoyed. It’s not that I think Madison is always happy, no clouds in her skies. There have been hints. The way her jaw tightens when her mom or dad appears in her caller ID. The slight edge to her humor that only belongs to people who have been hurt and know how to hurt in return. People who know but choose not to.

Until today.

I’m not sure whether the tear rolling down her cheek is about the way her dad spoke to her or the way she spoke to him. He deserved everything she said as far as I could tell, but knowing Madison, seeing the way she fusses over everyone from Ruby to the kittens, it could be either, but I’ll bet it’s both.

A second tear chases the first, and the dam breaks. I take a step in and scoop out the smallest tabby from my shirt. I know she has a soft spot for the gray-striped runt.

“Kitten?” I say, offering it to her.

She nods and reaches for it, settling it against her chest. I sit against the office wall, legs crossed, to give the kittens a nest. “Tabitha said I could bring them in.”

Madison gives a tiny nod. “Tabitha’s a good”—her voice catches and gets watery—“mom.”

My phone vibrates, and I already know who it will be. “Madison, my mom is calling. It’s this sixth sense thing she does. She’s good at advice. Do you want to borrow her?”

She shakes her head no.

“Do you care if I answer it real quick anyway?”

Another no.

Shifting carefully so I don’t disrupt the kittens, I slide my phone from my pocket.

“Hey, honey,” my mom says when I answer. “Is something wrong? I have that feeling.”

“Hey, Mom. I’m fine, but my friend is having a tough morning. I told her she could borrow you, but I’m pretty sure she feels weird about that because she doesn’t know you.” I lift my eyebrows at Madison, who nods.

“Ask if it’s okay for you to put me on speaker,” my mom says.

Madison looks uncomfortable but agrees.

“You’re on speaker, Mom. This is Madison.”

“Hey, Madison. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

Madison gives me a watery smile.

“She’s pretty sad, Mom. I gave her a kitten. What else should I do?”

“Give her another kitten. Two is better than one.”

Madison holds out her hand and I give her Tuxie, who she promptly snuggles into her chest.

“Okay, maybe that helped,” I say. “What next?”

“Do you like hugs, Madison?” my mom asks. “Oliver gives the best hugs.”

“Yes.” Madison’s voice is thick with tears.

“Oliver, give Madison another kitten.”

“Check.”

“Then hug her until she feels better.”

“On it.”

“Call me later, Madison,” my mom says. “I’m going to need to know how you’re doing. If you don’t, I’ll have to ground Oliver.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Madison says.

“Love you, honey,” my mom says.

“Love you too, Mom.” I end the call then look at Madison. “Did I make it worse?”

“I . . . don’t think so? I don’t do this much, so I don’t know what I need.” She sounds frustrated and tired.

“You don’t fight with your parents much?”

“I fight with them all the time.” She looks down at the kittens. “I haven’t mad cried since I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “My mom would probably call and lecture them for you if you want.”

She sniffle laughs. “You’re supposed to give me all the kittens. That’s what your mom said.”

“All? I heard ‘another.’ Here’s chonky tabby.” I start to scoop him up, but Madison shakes her head.

“All,” she repeats. “Give me or I’m telling.”

“Fine.” I hand over the other two. “Feel better?”

She stands up suddenly, and before I can get up too, she’s right in front of me. “You can do the hugging part. Except I still need the kittens, so I guess you’re getting all of us.”

Zero objections to that. I reach up as she turns her back to me, taking her hips to guide her to a soft landing in my lap. When she’s settled in, she leans her head against my chest.

“Is it okay if I cry some more?” Her request is quiet enough to break my heart.

I wrap my arms around hers, to help her hold the kittens. To help her fall apart. “Of course.”

At first, I don’t think she takes me up on it, but when I brush her hair back after a while to see her face, her cheeks are wet with slow-rolling tears. I use the sleeve of my sweatshirt to dry them for her, then wrap my arms around her again so she can cry some more.

Eventually, she murmurs something I don’t hear.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I want you to know that my dad got everything wrong.”

“I know.”

She rustles against me, resettling. “But you don’t. He and I work with mostly the same set of facts, but he makes them sound ugly. He makes it sound like I’m the reason they’re ugly. I hate it. And now you have enough information to assume the worst.”

“I haven’t. I won’t.”

“Anybody would.”

Here it is, the biggest hurdle I have with Madison—trying to get her to see that I’m not just anybody. “Try me.”

At some point, Tabitha curled up in Madison’s office chair, watching over her litter. Now she hops down and pads over.

“They need to eat.” Madison shifts so she can slip out of my lap to her knees. “Help me unpack?”

“I’ll get their bed,” I tell her, getting up to fetch it from the shed. I settle it in the corner and relocate two of the kittens. Tabitha climbs in and lies right down while her offspring get to work, and Madison gently adds the other two.

She straightens without looking at me. “I want to tell you, but I’ve never tried to explain the whole thing before.”

I have hours of coding to do, and it’s more urgent than ever.

“I’ve got time,” I say. “Let’s find somewhere comfortable?”

So Madison leads me to a dance floor table surrounded by a cushioned bench. She picks a spot to settle in, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap. She stares at her tightly laced fingers.

And she begins to talk.