Chapter 129
**Tom**
I sat at our lavish dining table, surrounded by gleaming silverware and fine china. The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow over the room, highlighting the intricate patterns on the wallpaper. Our housekeeper glided around the table, refilling wine glasses with practiced ease.
"More wine, Mr. Blackwood?" she asked, hovering near my glass.
"Please," I nodded, grateful for the distraction. Anything to delay the inevitable interrogation I knew was coming.
Leo smirked at me from across the table, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
Mom dabbed at her lips with a napkin, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So, Thomas, how have you been? We hardly see you anymore."
I swallowed a mouthful of perfectly cooked steak. "I've been good, Mom. Just busy with work, you know how it is."
"Ah yes, your 'work'," Dad said, using air quotes.
I sighed inwardly, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. Dad's air quotes were never a good sign.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Dad leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine glass. "Oh, come on, Thomas. We both know teaching isn't a challenging career for someone of your caliber."
I bit back a sarcastic retort. "I find it plenty challenging, Dad. And rewarding, too."
"But why waste your talents teaching corporate finance when you could use that knowledge to develop our family business?" He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Think about it, son. With your expertise, we could take Blackwood Industries to new heights!"
I pushed a piece of asparagus around my plate, buying time. "Dad, we've been over this. I'm interested in teaching. It's what I love to do."
"Love?" He scoffed. "Love doesn't pay the bills, Thomas. Well, in your case, it barely does."
"Richard," Mom chided gently, but Dad was on a roll.
"I just don't understand it. You have a golden opportunity here, and you're throwing it away to grade papers and lecture-bored undergrads."
I took a deep breath, reminding myself that strangling my father at the dinner table would probably be frowned upon. "Those 'bored undergrads' are the future of finance. Someone has to teach them."
"But why does it have to be you?" He countered.
I groaned, wishing I could teleport out of this dining room. "Dad, can we please discuss this later? I'm trying to enjoy this lovely meal Mom prepared."
"Later? You always say later," he huffed, stabbing a piece of broccoli with unnecessary force. "When exactly is this 'later' going to happen?"
I took a long sip of wine, buying myself a moment to calm down. "How about next week? I'll come by the office, and we can discuss it then. Alright?"
Dad's eyes lit up, that familiar spark of excitement dancing across his weathered features. "Really? You'll come to the office?"
"Yes, Dad. I'll come to the office," I sighed, regretting my decision. "Now, can we please change the subject?"
Mom, bless her heart, jumped in to save me. "Oh, speaking of changes, how did that blind date go? The one with that lovely Veronica girl?"
Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say.
"Oh yes!" Dad exclaimed, his earlier frustration forgotten. "How did it go with Veronica? She's a catch, isn't she? Her father speaks very highly of her."
I cleared my throat, desperately searching for a diplomatic way out of this conversation. "Veronica was... nice."
"Nice?" Dad repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's all you have to say? Nice?"
"What your father means," Mom interjected smoothly, "is that we'd love to hear more about her. Did you two hit it off?"
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, acutely aware of Leo's amused smirk from across the table. "She's a lovely person, really. But... she's not exactly my type."
Dad's face fell faster than a soufflé in an earthquake. "Not your type? What do you mean, not your type? She's beautiful, intelligent, from a good family..."
"I know, Dad. She's great. We just... didn't click romantically."
Dad's eyes narrowed, his fork clattering against his plate. "What do you mean 'click romantically'? How can you say that if you both parted ways after dinner? You have to spend time with her and see where it goes."
The implication in his voice was clear as day, even if he didn't say it outright. My father, Richard Blackwood, Chairman of Blackwood Industries, was essentially telling me to sleep with Veronica to see if we 'clicked.' Jesus Christ.
"Dad," I spluttered, feeling my face heat up. "That's not... I mean, I can't just..."
Mom looked mortified, her eyes darting between Dad and me like she was watching a particularly awkward tennis match.
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but I think I can find someone on my own."
Dad scoffed. "Oh, please. If I left it up to you, you'd be single forever. Always buried in your books and lesson plans."
"I'm not always-"
"You need to make it fast, son," Dad interrupted, jabbing his fork in my direction like a tiny pitchfork. "Or before you know it, you'll be so old you'll be eyeing girls your daughter's age. If you had a daughter, that is."
"Dad!" I wheezed, scandalized.
Leo snickered, clearly enjoying the show. I shot him a death glare, which only made him grin wider.
"What?" Dad shrugged, unperturbed. "I'm just saying, time's ticking. You're not getting any younger."
"Come on, I'm not that old."
"You're thirty-one, for Christ's sake!" Dad exclaimed, waving his fork around dangerously. I ducked, narrowly avoiding a flying piece of asparagus. "Thirty-one! And what do you have to show for it? A bunch of textbooks and a red pen?"
"I have a PhD," I muttered under my breath.
Dad barreled on, oblivious to my comment. "Look at your brother. Leo's only twenty-eight, and he's already dating Kate. A lovely girl, by the way," he added, nodding approvingly at Leo.
Leo preened like a peacock, the smug bastard. "Thanks, Dad. We're very happy together."
"See?" Dad gestured wildly at Leo. "He's got his act together. You're the one who needs to find someone, Thomas. And fast."
"Alright, alright. I'll find someone soon. Can we please change the subject now?"
"Soon?" Dad's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Define 'soon', Thomas. Because in your dictionary, 'soon' means 'sometime in the next decade'."
"Richard," Mom chided gently, but Dad was not stopping now.
"No, I want to know," he pressed. "What's your timeline here, son? Are we talking weeks? Months? Years? Because let me tell you, at the rate you're going, you'll pick out a retirement home before you pick out an engagement ring."
I groaned, slumping in my chair. "It's not like I can just order a girlfriend from some online shopping site. Finding the right person takes time. It's not as simple as clicking 'add to cart' and waiting for her to show up on my doorstep."
Leo snorted into his wine glass. "Maybe you should try. One-day shipping, guaranteed satisfaction."
"Not helping, Leo," I growled.
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