Page 62 of Hannah.
I give him a flat look. “Astrid and I aren't exclusive, so no. I’m not seeing her behind Astrid's back.” At least, not exactly.
“Good. Don’t.” Dad claps a hand on my shoulder and gives me a tight-lipped smile. “If you aren’t interested in Astrid, then end things with her as soon as possible. I’m not going to have you string the Viscount’s daughter along for longer than necessary. That's not the man I raised you to be.”
“I know.” Rubbing my face, I try to put aside the misery churning inside of me. “Please don't say anything to anyone. I’ll handle things after this weekend.”
“I hope so.” He rests his elbows on the railing, looking out over the front lawn, and stays silent for a few beats as ifpondering something. “This thing with the fresher girl, though, it needs to end. Pick someone else.”
“I kissed her,” I blurt out with finality, ignoring his request. “I know it sounds stupid, but I knew then and there that my feelings for her are legitimate.”
His face falls, and whatever joy or humor he had in his tone is now long gone.
“She’s quite young,” he points out, and I scoff.
“She’s eighteen, Dad.”
“That’s different from saying ‘she's an adult,’ and you know it. Plus, she’s studying at the same university where you work. That’s not good.” He shakes his head in disapproval, his expression more serious than before. “This can backfire pretty quickly. I don’t think the dean will appreciate knowing you’re having a little affair with a fresher.”
“I know, and I appreciate your concerns. But I’m telling you, this isn’t a passing crush.”
He blows out a loud breath, his frustration building. “Passing crush or not, I won’t let you screw up your life.”
I frown in confusion. “What are you talking about? She’s legally an adult, whether you like it or not.”
Straightening his posture, his resolve hardens. “Enough.”
“You don’t get to dictate who I choose?—”
“I saidenough,” he repeats louder, his eyes almost shooting daggers. “If you want to go to Portmeirion this weekend, go. Alone.”
I turn away from him, unable to meet his disapproving gaze. I’ve never seen him like this. Fuck, I should have never come here in the first place.
“Astrid is a brilliant woman,” he continues, his tone sounding like a lecture. “She’s from a wealthy, respectable family that could elevate our position.”
I instantly roll my eyes at his observation, and before I can utter a word in protest, he adds, “I’ll keep this between us, but you should really reconsider if it’s worth ruining such a good match for a woman you barely know.”
His tone is lower and more discreet now, suggesting he’s calmed down. Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I give a curt nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
We head back into the house, and I find the women sitting in the lounge, each with a small cup of espresso in front of them. Dad leaves to join Astrid's father for a cigar while Astrid looks up at me, her eyes bright.
“There you are! Everything alright?”
“Everything is fine. Sorry, it took a while.”
She pats the seat next to her, and I join the ladies. It’s a nice night, and the atmosphere is comfortable. Conversation flows easily, and the women have a lively discussion about their plans for an art expo trip this weekend.
“It’s so nice having someone to go with,” Nina enthuses before turning to her daughter. “You sure you’re not too busy with Johan to come with me?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been waiting all week for this!” Astrid grins at her mom before elbowing me gently. “I’m sure Johan has seen enough of me this week, anyway.”
Laughing uncomfortably, I tell her, “Of course not.” All the while feeling my stomach churn because of how true that statement is. I don't want to spend the weekend with Astrid, as sweet as she is.
The drive back starts just as the earlier trip—easygoing, with a comfortable silence that belies the tension building under thesurface. But Astrid grows contemplative as the night deepens and stars begin to peek through the gaps in the clouds.
“Isn't it so lovely that our families get on so well?” Her voice is tinged with a wistfulness that feels like a precursor to something more.
“They are quite fond of each other,” I reply, my tone neutral but my mind racing about how their affection might endure the upheaval to come.
“Yeah, I don't think they'll be too disappointed with how long things are taking,” she continues, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil.