“Nonsense. Your first priority should be marrying my son, especially if you two were so insistent on hiding your relationship from everyone,” my father counters with a lift of his brow.
“There’s no rush, Dad,” I interject. Mitsy barks in my mom’s lap, signaling her desire for more food.
The only other sounds you can hear for a beat are of forks hitting china plates and the faint noise coming from the kitchen.
I can also hear my pulse in my ears as the conversation threatens the levels of my blood pressure.
“I just don’t understand why you would wait.” His smile grows as he looks to my mom for approval, her head bob clearly conveying her agreement. “I mean, life is short. The two of you are already in your thirties…”
“I’m not even sure that we want a big, fancy wedding anyway,” Dilynne adds, causing my mother to gasp dramatically.
“Oh, heavens no…”
“I mean, look how Elliot’s last one turned out.” Dilynne’s remark is meant to be a joke, but neither my father nor mother so much as crack a smile.
“Therewillbe a wedding.” My father’s declaration is voiced with his sense of authority I’ve heard many times before in my life. “Thornes have a reputation to uphold, and we know far too many people that would be offended if they weren’t invited to our son’s wedding.”
Dilynne clears her throat. “Well, technically they already were invited to one, so…”
I squeeze her thigh under the table in warning. This sarcastic reply is classic Dilynne, but she doesn’t need to poke the bear any more.
“After the car show, we will pick a date, okay?”
I figure if I at least let them think there’s a wedding on the horizon, it will dampen the heat of this conversation.
My father’s eyes are locked on me, but after a few minutes, he nods once. “Fine. But there will be a wedding.”
“Understood.”
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, which makes the room feel even more uncomfortable. But when Dilynne excuses herself to go to the restroom, my father barely waits until she’s out of the room before voicing his opinions again.
“Elliot, really?” he says with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “That woman is not wife material.”
“Says who?”
“Elliot, you seemed so much happier with Tori,” my mother adds.
“According to you,” I argue. “But it turns out that I never knew Tori, the real her anyway. Trust me, I know Dilynne. She’s unapologetically herself.”
“She doesn’t want kids,” my mom adds. “No grandchildren? You’re our only son and if you don’t have children…”
“Then the Thorne family name dies with me,” I say, which causes my father to slap the table, rattling the few dishes that are left.
“That is unacceptable. And to think my father—” But he quickly cuts himself off, as if he was about to say something he shouldn’t.
My curiosity is officially piqued, though.
“What about grandpa?”
“Nothing. I just…” My dad reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t help but think that he would be rolling around in his grave if he knew that you were willing to let everything he’s worked for die with you.”
“The practice can still live on if I don’t have kids, Dad. Besides, what if I do have a child and they don’t want to be a lawyer? I mean, working for you certainly hasn’t lived up to my expectations,” I say, thinking about how different my father is now than he was when he first took over the practice.
“Ha.” He lifts his scotch to his lips, and that’s when I notice how bloodshot his eyes are, which means the scotch is controlling the conversation right now. “That’s not an option. Thornes are lawyers. That’s the way it is and always has been.”
“We’ve also been lawyers that give back to our community, but you’ve put a stop to that too, haven’t you?”
His eyes narrow at me. “That council your grandfather founded is a waste of your time and talent. I’m helping you reach your full potential. You wanted to be successful, if I recall, and I only suggested leaving it behind around the time you met Tori.” He shrugs with a smug tilt of his lips. “I’m just trying to help you get where you said you want to be.”