Sick of my family’s relentless questions about my love life, I came up with a bold idea: I’d hire a homeless man to pose as my fiancé for our holiday dinner. It seemed like the perfect way to dodge their nagging—until my mom’s reaction revealed a hidden connection to his past.
Parked near a downtown square, I braced for another family weekend filled with the usual interrogations. Mom’s curious stares, Dad’s optimistic nudges, and constant “When are you getting married?” questions were too much. Then I noticed a man on a bench, dressed in a faded coat, his rugged face still handsome despite life’s toll. A wild thought struck me: could he pretend to be my fiancé? It was risky, but I was desperate. I approached him, nervous. “Hi, this sounds crazy, but would you act as my fiancé for a weekend? I’ll give you a place to stay, clothes, and food.” He looked at me, then nodded. “Okay.” His quick agreement startled me, but I pushed forward. “Awesome, let’s get started,” I said.
At my place, I gave him clothes from my ex’s stash—a sweater and slacks. “Feel free to shower. I’ll cook dinner,” I offered. “Thanks,” he said, his smile warm. As he showered, I stirred a pot, questioning my sanity. Inviting a stranger into my home? When he emerged, clean and refreshed, he looked like a new man. “Best shower ever,” he said, grinning. “I’m Nathan.” I blushed. “Sophie.” Over dinner, he praised my cooking. “This is incredible. Been ages since I ate like this.” We talked about music and books—he loved jazz and Orwell’s stark tales. His wit disarmed me, and soon, we were laughing like old friends. Later, I found the dishes washed. “You didn’t have to,” I said. He shrugged. “Felt right.” I smiled, touched by his kindness.
The next day, we prepped for the dinner. A haircut transformed Nathan’s scruffy look into something sharp, and new clothes sealed the deal. “This feels odd,” he said, eyeing the mirror. “Good odd?” I asked. He smirked. “Yeah.” At the dinner, Nathan was a hit—courteous, engaging, and smooth. Mom glowed, her usual questions silenced. “Nathan, you look familiar,” she teased. “Movie star?” He laughed. “Just a common face.” Dad chuckled, but Mom probed. “What did you do before Sophie?” Nathan hesitated. “Business, but a car accident five years ago changed everything.” My heart raced—this wasn’t planned. Mom’s face drained of color, her hands trembling. “An accident?” she said, voice cold. The mood shifted. “Some don’t recover from crashes,” she muttered. Nathan stayed calm, but Mom snapped, “He’s not good for you.” Stunned, I watched him step outside. I turned to her. “What’s going on?” She whispered, “Five years ago, I hit a man in a crash. It was him. He was drunk, Sophie, and dangerous.”
I found Nathan by the gate, his face heavy. “Is it true?” I asked. He nodded. “I’m Nathan Reed. It was me. I was on meds for depression after my wife’s death, not drunk. I was cautious.” He pulled out a small ring. “This was hers. You’re the first I’ve wanted to give it to. Thanks for tonight, Sophie.” He handed me the ring and left. I confronted Mom. “You hid something, didn’t you?” She sighed. “I was speeding. I was terrified.” I asked, “Should I find him?” Her silence said yes, but he was gone.
Nathan’s story lingered. I placed an ad in the paper: “Nathan Reed, meet me at our dinner restaurant. I’m there nightly. Sophie.” It felt like a long shot, but I had to try. The next night, at the restaurant, I waited, hope fading. Then Nathan walked in, smiling. “Saw your ad,” he said, sitting across from me. I exhaled. “Mom admitted she shared blame for the crash. And… she took your money.” He shrugged. “After my wife died, I let it go.” I apologized, and he brushed it off. “Not your doing.” I said Mom wanted to make it right. We talked for hours, raw and real. By the end, I’d fallen for him, and his gaze said he felt it too. What began as a charade turned into love, and I’m grateful for every moment.
