Chapter 82
**Tom**
I pulled up to the Green Royal Restaurant, my stomach churning with dread and guilt. The blue suit Dad insisted I wear felt like a straitjacket, constricting my every move. As I killed the engine, I caught sight of my reflection in the rearview mirror. I looked like I was headed to a funeral, not a date.
"Maybe she won't show," I muttered, straightening my tie for the hundredth time. "Maybe she'll take one look at this disaster and run for the hills."
I stepped out of the car, my shoes crunching on the gravel parking lot. The restaurant loomed before me, all sleek lines and twinkling lights.
The hostess greeted me with a bright smile that could've powered a small city. "Good evening, sir! Do you have a reservation?"
"Uh, yeah. It should be under Thomas Blackwood. Or maybe Veronica?"
She tapped away at her iPad, perfectly manicured nails clacking against the screen. "Ah, yes! Here we are. Table for two, correct?"
I nodded, following her through the maze of tables. The place was packed, filled with couples making googly eyes at each other over overpriced entrees.
"Here you are, sir," the hostess chirped, gesturing to a table tucked away in a corner.
I settled into the chair, feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of romance. The waiter swooped in, offering me a menu and a knowing smile. "Can I get you started with a drink while you wait for your date, sir?"
"Yeah, I'll take a—" I paused, realizing I probably shouldn't start the evening three sheets to the wind. "Just water for now, thanks."
As the waiter disappeared, I fiddled with my napkin, folding it into increasingly complex shapes. If I concentrated hard enough, I could escape this situation.
The minutes ticked by like hours. I checked my watch so often I was sure I'd worn a groove in my wrist. As I contemplated making a break for it, the hostess reappeared, leading a woman to my table.
And holy smokes, was she a sight for sore eyes.
Veronica was drop-dead gorgeous, with long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders and eyes that sparkled like stars. She wore a red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and when she smiled, I swear the room got a little brighter.
I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking over my water glass. "Hi! I'm Thomas. You must be Veronica."
She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "That's me. It's nice to meet you, Thomas."
As she sat down, I caught a whiff of her perfume. It was intoxicating, like a blend of flowers and magic. I tried to think of something clever, but my brain had decided to take the night off.
I cleared my throat, trying to jumpstart my brain. "So, uh, how's your evening going so far?"
"It's certainly looking up now. I have to admit, I didn't expect you to be quite so... good."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Good? As in, good-looking? Or good, as in not a complete disaster?"
"Both, actually. When your father described you, I pictured some nerdy professor type with thick glasses and elbow patches."
"I'm not quite that old for thick glasses yet. Give me a few more years of grading papers, and we'll see."
Veronica's laugh was infectious. "Fair enough. Though I have to say, the elbow patches might suit you."
"I may invest in a pair. Really lean into the whole professor aesthetic."
Our banter halted as the waiter appeared at our table.
Veronica glanced at me. "Shall we order anything?"
"How about wine?" I suggested, grateful for the distraction. The nerves were still there, but they'd settled into a low hum rather than a full-blown panic.
"Sure," she nodded, her eyes scanning the wine list. "Red or white?"
"I'm thinking red. Something bold to match that dress of yours."
"Oh, you've been admiring my dress, have you?"
I felt my cheeks flush. "Well, it's kind of hard to miss. It's like a stop sign but infinitely more appealing."
She laughed, a sound that made my heart do a little jig. "I'll take that as a compliment. Though I hope you're not planning on stopping anytime soon."
"Stopping? Me? I'm just getting started."
Veronica turned to the waiter, her smile dazzling. "We'll take a bottle of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please."
"Excellent choice, madam," the waiter nodded, scribbling on his notepad.
As the waiter disappeared with our order, I was again alone with Veronica. The candlelight flickered across her face, casting shadows that danced in her eyes. I tried to think of something witty, but my brain took an impromptu vacation.
"So," I began, eloquently as ever, "what do you do when you're not being set up on blind dates by meddling fathers?"
"When I'm not being thrust into awkward social situations by well-meaning but misguided parental figures, I'm actually the MD at my father's tech company."
"MD? As in Managing Director? Wow, that's... impressive. Here I thought I was doing well just remembering to grade papers on time."
"It's not as glamorous as it sounds. Mostly, I just wrangle a bunch of tech bros who think they're the next Steve Jobs."
"Sounds like herding cats, but with more coding and energy drinks."
"You have no idea," she laughed. "But enough about me. What about you? Did you come to this blind date with genuine interest, or were you forced at gunpoint?"
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