Page 121 of Love, Academically
He scrolled to his father’s contact and pressed the green button, but he could hear the phone ringing outside of his office. Was his fatherhere?
The door flew open and Llewellyn Dallimore, brown sheepskin coat and all, strolled into the small room. He took up too much space, making everything look like Lilliputian furniture.
Fuck. His father was here.
Rhys took a fortifying breath and tried to keep his emotion off his face.
“Shwmae,my boy.”
“Tad. Prynhawn da.”Dad. Good afternoon.
“It’s hardly the afternoon, Rhys,” his father replied in English.
“Yes, well. Near enough.” Rhys stood and put his hands in his pockets, feigning a nonchalance that he certainly did not feel. “Can I do something for you?”
Llewellyn Dallimore peered at the family photograph on top of his out-of-shape filing cabinet and made a derisory noise in the back of his throat.
“I heard that you’ve had a bit of a set back with the Fellowship interview.” He turned to face Rhys and rocked forward on his toes. His lips curved in a smug smile and Rhys curled his hands into fists in his pockets to stop him from smacking it off his face.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“I know everything, boy,” his father said. “You’ll be back in Dallimores before Christmas then. I’ve got your office all picked out. It’s near mine.”
Rhys cringed. That sounded fucking awful. “No.”
“No?”
“Dim, diolch.”No, thank you.“I won’t be coming back to Dallimores.”
Llewellyn Dallimore puffed his chest out and tilted his head back so he could stare down his nose at his son.
“That wasn’t our agreement,bach.”Boy. His father’s voice was low. “A Dallimore always sticks to his word.”
What was this? Game of fucking Thrones?
“Yeah, well,” he said flippantly. “I’m not going to spend my life doing something I don’t want to do. I like it in academia. I like it here. My success isn’t measured by whether I get a Fellowship or not. I’m measuring my success in happiness.”
“What does that even mean? What’s this nonsense you’re saying? Measuring your success inhappiness?” His father was baffled, and positively disgusted by Rhys’s words. “Oh, I see, this is that girl Lila, isn’t it?”
“Don’t, Dad.” Rhys warned, but his father carried on regardless.
“She’s filled your head with rainbows and smiles. She has no idea what it means to be a Dallimore and she never will. She’s not good enough for you, Rhys. She doesn’t have the right mindset.”
Rhys’s blood burned in his veins. It was one thing to insult him, he’d gotten used to that lovely little nugget of parenting, but to insult Lila? No. Absolutely not.
He snapped.
“Stop.” He leaned across his desk, veins bulging in his arms. “How dare you speak about Lila like that? How absolutely dare you? You’re right. She doesn’t know what it means to be a Dallimore and I thank my fucking stars every day that she doesn’t.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” His father matched his tone, coldly furious. “Think now, before you speak again. Think on what this family has given you.”
Rhys didn’t need to think. He knew exactly what he wanted.
“You think she’s not enough for me? She’s more than enough, she is everything. It’s me who isn’t good enough for her,” Rhys said, louder than he would have liked, but his father fucking pissed him off. “I love her and I willnothear anything against her. Do you understand?”
Rhys’s heart beat solidly in his chest. He had never spoken to his father like this before, but an attack on Lila deserved a well-rounded and swift defence.
“Youloveher?” his father spat. “She’s not like Seren. For God’s sake Rhys, she’sSaesneg!”
