LOVE BY PROXY

I had imagined many scenarios for how my Tuesday might go. Getting dumped by a dead woman wasn’t one of them. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I leaned forward in the stiff leather chair, certain I had misheard the lawyer. Edmund Whitmore III, because, of course, my great-aunt’s estate lawyer had a numeral after his name, cleared his throat and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "Your great-aunt’s will stipulates that you must remain single and romantically unattached for a period of twelve months in order to inherit her estate." "Single," I repeated slowly. "Romantically unattached," Edmund confirmed. Next to me, Nate shifted in his seat. I could feel the tension radiating off him without even looking. Seven years. Seven comfortable, happy, planning-to-get-engaged years. "How much are we talking about?" Nate asked, his voice carefully neutral. Edmund consulted his papers. "The estate is valued at approximately 10.2 million dollars." My hand found Nate’s automatically. Ten million dollars. That was… that was everything. My student loans, gone. Nate’s dream of opening his own architecture firm, possible. Helping my mom retire early. Never worrying about money again. "There's more," Edmund continued, and my stomach dropped because of course there was. "The will specifically names Nathan Cross as someone Miss Martinez must not be romantically involved with during the stipulated period." "She named me?" Nate’s voice cracked slightly. "She met me twice!" "Three times," I corrected automatically. "Remember the Christmas party where she called you 'that handsome barnacle'?" "Ah yes." Edmund’s lips twitched. "Mrs. Whitmore was quite… colorful in her language. Her exact wording in the will is…" He pulled out a separate document. "'That boy is fine to look at but Sophie needs to learn she's a whole meal, not a side dish. One year without the barnacle. Then she can have him and my money if she still wants both.'" The silence in the mahogany-paneled office was deafening. "She thought I was holding Sophie back?" Nate’s voice was tight. "She thought Sophie was holding herself back," Edmund corrected gently. "Mrs. Whitmore was very fond of you both, actually. This is… unconventional, certainly, but she believed she was helping." I felt numb. Great-Aunt Miriam had always been eccentric, she’d owned seventeen cats, all named after philosophers, and had once gotten banned from a casino for card counting at age seventy-three. But this? "What if Sophie just doesn’t take the money?" Nate asked. "Then it goes to the American Competitive Cheese-Making Association." "The what?" "Mrs. Whitmore was a patron," Edmund said, as if that explained everything. My mind was racing. Ten million dollars. Twelve months. No Nate. "Can we have a moment?" I managed. "Of course. I’ll be right outside." Edmund gathered his papers and left with a sympathetic nod. The moment the door clicked shut, Nate turned to me. "Soph…" "It's ten million dollars." "I know." "We could pay off everything. You could start your firm. We could…" "I know," he repeated, then took both my hands. "But you can’t seriously be considering this." I looked at him… really looked. Nate, with his perpetually mussed brown hair and the tiny scar on his chin from when he’d tried to teach me skateboarding. Nate, who knew my coffee order had changed three times over seven years and had never once complained. Nate, who had held me through my father’s funeral and made me laugh the same day. Seven years. Could I do twelve months without him? "What if…" I started slowly. "What if we just… pretended to break up?" Nate blinked. "What?" "Think about it. We break up publicly. You move out, or I move out, or whatever. We play it up on social media, tell our friends, convince everyone it’s real. Then in twelve months, we get back together and we’re rich." "Sophie, that’s insane." "Is it? It’s just twelve months. We’ll still see each other, we just have to be careful. It’s like… like a really long-distance relationship. Except we live in the same city." "And lie to everyone we know." "For ten million dollars!" Nate stood up, pacing to the window that overlooked downtown. I watched his shoulders, the way his hands shoved into his pockets, a tell that he was actually considering it. "Your mom already thinks I’m not good enough for you," he said finally. "She does not…" "She asked me last month when I was planning to 'make an honest woman' of you." "Okay, she’s old-fashioned, but…" "And Ryan’s been on my case about proposing." Nate turned back to me. "Half our friends think we’re too comfortable, the other half are waiting for us to announce an engagement. A breakup would be… believable." I felt a flutter of hope mixed with dread. "So you’re saying yes?" "I’m saying I think you’re crazy." But he was smiling slightly. "But I’m also saying that ten million dollars could change our entire lives." "It’s just twelve months." "Just twelve months," he echoed. I stood and crossed to him. This close, I could see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, the ones I’d memorized years ago. "We can do this. We’re solid. What’s a year in the grand scheme of things?" Nate cupped my face in his hands. "Famous last words." "Is that a yes?" He kissed me, soft and sweet and familiar. "That’s a 'let’s hear the rest of the conditions before we decide.'" I pulled back. "There are more conditions?" "There are always more conditions." I should’ve known. Nothing about Great-Aunt Miriam had ever been simple. We called Edmund back in. "We want to know everything," I said. "Every single rule." Edmund actually smiled. "I was hoping you’d say that." He pulled out a significantly thicker document. "Now, about the residency requirement…" My hopeful feeling evaporated. "The what?"