Inside the envelope are several sheets of expensive paper folded neatly into thirds. They fan apart, and there, across the top, in official block letters are the typed words “Andrew and Ellie’s Non-Marriage Contract.” Below is a paragraph of legalese, followed by enumerated stipulations, the words blurring and blending together.

“Seriously, Andrew, what is this?”

He tilts forward so he can point to the words on the page. “It’s a contract that says that whenever I do get married—if that’s in two years or five or fifty—you are entitled to ten percent of my inheritance.”

The pages slip between my fingers. “Andrew! No, you don’t have to do that!”

“Well, don’t get too effusive with your gratitude. I do actually have to get married at some point, which is statistically unlikely.”

I look up at Andrew, at the blush on his throat and the smile on his face. I think the statistical probability is changing. “You’re prepared to give me ten percent of your inheritance regardless of when you get married…?”

“And bonus, you don’t even have to be the person who is marrying me. You’re welcome.”

I stare down at the creamy pages, at this huge symbolic gesture he’s handed me. “How will your future spouse feel about you giving away two hundred thousand dollars to some random woman?”

Andrew shrugs. “Dylan firmly believes you’re entitled to that money for what you had to endure.”

I lift a suggestive eyebrow, and Andrew’s blush deepens as he realizes what he’s said. “Not that I think Dylan is going to be that spouse. Just, you know. An example. A sampling of potential partners and their attitudes toward me giving away our money.”

“A sample size of one?”

“Please shut up.” Andrew snatches the papers out of my hand and awkwardly shoves them back into the envelope. “The point is, I want you to have this money, and I understand you might be hesitant to take it, and I want to reassure you that—”

“Oh no, I’ll take it.”

Andrew frowns.

“Yeah, I’m not going to fight you on this. I live in a closet.” He looks around, remembering where we are. “If someone with generational wealth wants to offer me a boatload of money, I’m not going to turn it down. I’m just also not going to wait for that money to start building the life that I want.”

“Well, good.” Andrew gives me a curt nod. “So does that mean you’re getting back to your art? The family mentioned there was an editor who maybe wanted to publish you?”