Betting on the Brainiac: a Sweet Romantic Comedy

26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Bhani. Raymond. Lacey. Martha. Remember their faces, I tell myself as I try to organize my thoughts for Madison. Remember how everyone in the Azora office looked when Matt announced that we have to let everyone go in two weeks.

None of the last-chance options Matt had tried had worked out. We’d told the staff this morning. Their expressions had ranged from panicked to resigned. It had been a gut punch.

This proposal is how we change that.

“Would you rather get your trust fund now instead of waiting four more years?” I ask Madison.

“Of course.”

I reach into my workbag and pull out three documents, setting them on the table, face down. I turn over the first one. “I meet every qualification that your parents expect in your future husband. Here’s the proof from my college GPA to my credit score. I included other things like my parents’ information, my height, weight, and medical history. There’s no dirt to dig up.”

She takes it and scans it. “You were your high school salutatorian, went to Penn, and graduated summa cum laude with a double major in computer science and business.” Her eyebrow goes up and she glances up at me. “How do you carry that giant brain around in your head?”

“Same way you carry yours.”

That makes her smile. “How did I not know any of this about you?”

“It’s not that big a deal. I put it all down in case it matters to your parents.”

“It doesn’t not matter.” She goes back to the document. “Wait, you’re the chief technology officer at your company, not a regular programmer?”

I don’t answer because she’s holding the confirmation in her hands.

When she’s finished looking through it, she sets it down again. “You do check every box. But why are you doing this?”

I turn the second document over and slide it to her. “This is the operating budget for Azora Software from now until product launch. The most important part of that budget is our payroll. We hire candidates that aren’t first-choice options for other tech companies because we value the nontech skills and insights they bring to the job. On Monday, we found out that the next round of funding we were counting on fell through.”

“Monday?” she says. “That’s why you got here late. And then I took over everything with my family drama, and—”

“Madi, don’t. Do not be hard on yourself for that. I’m glad I got to listen. I would have done that for you no matter what as a friend, but weirdly, it’s also potentially opening up an opportunity for both of us.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Okay. Tell me.”

I tap the sheet in front of her. “This is what my company needs to keep going.” I turn over the final document and slide it to her. “This is how we get there, and you get what you want too.”

She draws it toward herself and reads the title aloud. “Prenuptial agreement.”

“Do the terms of the trust specify how long you have to stay married?”

She shakes her head. “Only that I get the money after one year.”

“Read through this prenup with as many lawyers as you need to feel comfortable, but this is the bottom line. We get married for one year and one day. It will be a legal marriage, and they will need to release your first five million to you the day you present proof that the marriage certificate has been recorded with the state. At that point, I’ll need almost a third of the money from you.”

Her eyes jerk to mine. “You want me to give you two million dollars?”

“One-and-a-half, and not give. Invest. You’ll find the terms on page three.”

She flips to them, and I sum it up. “I will not have any claim to the balance of the trust when it’s disbursed to you. As for the money, you’ll get equity ownership in Azora. We project we’ll have enough profit in three years to cash you out. My partner and I will reserve the right of first refusal if you decide to sell those shares. But at that point, you can fully divest, or if you like the returns, you can keep your stake. There are provisions for your compensation in the case of an exit event, but we aren’t looking for acquisition.”

Madison reads, forehead furrowed, her eyes racing over some lines, slowing down at others, going through the entire document. She sits back when she’s done and stares into space.

Finally, she sighs and looks at me. “I understand that this proposal gets me my money sooner. I appreciate that you’ve made it very clear that your access to the funds will be limited and time-definite. But there have to be easier ways for you to get the money.”

That makes me laugh. “Believe it or not, this is one of the simpler ways I’ve heard of.”

She smiles back. “It might be if it weren’t for a couple of conditions in the trust I failed to mention.”

My stomach clenches as I think of the people who are probably updating their resumes as we speak, anxious about what’s next for them. “Like what?”

“Believe me, I would have mentioned them if I’d known you were planning on this and saved you the trouble.”

“Do I need to convert to a weird religion? Live in your family compound? Oh no.” I shudder and widen my eyes. “Wear Jeneze clothes?”

She grins. “Worse. I must live with my new husband. As in share a residence with him. And we’ll have to attend one family dinner a month with them so they can ‘monitor’ the situation. The terms say it’s so they can keep an eye on my new husband and look for any signs that things are amiss, but it’s just to force me back into the fold.”

“I should have anticipated the living situation. Let me think.” I’ve focused on pulling all of this together the whole week, running around during the day to meetings and notaries to gather my evidence of meeting her parents’ terms and getting these contracts all hammered out, programming until late into the night. But through all of that, the thing that weighed even more heavily on me than the thought of letting down all the people who count on Matt and me was how I feel about Madison.

I don’t know the rules for how long it takes to fall in love with someone. On Tuesday, when I was waiting in my attorney’s office, I googled it to see if I might be losing my mind. There’s no hard science, but the most credible study I found said that it takes men an average of eighty-eight days from a first date to “I love you.”

If that math is even close, I’m over halfway to falling for Madison, totally and completely. That puts me at a higher risk than Madison in some key ways.

Possibility one: she may never see me as more than a friend and business partner. I can live with that—if I can put an end to the feelings I have. It would mean keeping my distance in every way. I’d find somewhere else to work besides Gatsby’s. I’d be as upfront as I could with her without making her uncomfortable. Or, if I’m being honest, without making myself look pathetic. I’d tell her we’d go back to our paths never crossing unless we needed to talk business so that we could keep all lanes clear. Then, in a year and a day, I’d take her out to celebrate our divorce, and if we’re both still single, I could set out to . . . what, woo her?

Possibility two: I could fall for her all the way anyway, and it might never be reciprocated. I’d get to spend all my time wasting away like a freaking heroine in a historical novel where the unrequited love causes “consumption.” And then I’d die.

If I use the strategies from the first scenario—total avoidance—I could limit this possibility.

Being Madison’s roommate—living with her—changes the probability on these scenarios, and it only takes me a split second to see that there is now only one scenario if we marry for the money. I am doomed to become the tragic heroine of a historical novel.

How much am I willing to risk for this arrangement? Bhani. Raymond. Lacey. Martha. “I dropped a lot on you. Are you even open to the living situation?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve been prepared to wait for another four years.”

Which is unbelievably petty of her parents. “Madi, whether or not we do this, you shouldn’t have to wait to start doing some good in the world. Your dad has made those people wait long enough. And even if you wanted to keep every dime yourself, it’s still not right for them to move the goalpost on you. So consider that too.”

I stand and roll my neck. I’ve been so tense this whole week that even sitting for a short time has my muscles tightening up. “I’m going to think better if I move. I’ll be there doing laps while I feel my way through these new conditions.” I point to the third floor, and she nods.

I take the closest set of stairs and hit the top floor at a fast walk. I don’t want to sweat in my good clothes, but it’s better than pacing.

I make myself picture what sharing an apartment with Madi would be like. There would be a lot of run-ins over the year. Could I handle a sleep-tousled Madison? A glammed-up Madison? Madison in tiny workout clothes? Madison in a fluffy sweater and a beanie with cheeks pink from the winter cold?

Why does that one twist my gut the hardest?

I’m at a near run now, and I force myself to a walk again.

Without question, I would fall more for Madison. I would do everything I could to keep a distance between us, and it might help. But it wouldn’t stop it completely.

Will it happen anyway, even if we don’t do this whole business marriage?

Bhani. Raymond. Lacey. Martha.

“Oliver?”

I lean over the railing to find her in the middle of the dance floor. “Yeah?”

“I’ll marry you on one condition: Tabitha and the kittens come with us.”