Page 23 of Love, Academically

Lila hadn’t lied when she said she had felt like a princess.

What girl wouldn’t? It was the most perfect dress she had ever set eyes upon and Miquita had earned every part of her commission, including the shoes and the bag that she’d gently pressed into her hands, with another terse ‘yes’ from Rhys.

Shame that she’d have to sell them all after the evening and give Rhys the proceeds. There was absolutely no way she could possibly keep them. Where, pray tell, would she wear them again? Oh, perhaps every now and again for the hoovering.

“Do you want to come in for a sandwich?” Lila asked when he pulled up behind Petunia.

“Uh,” Rhys swallowed and looked awkwardly into the distance.

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly, unclipping her seatbelt and putting her hand on the door handle. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“No, uh.” Rhys’s throat worked and she waited. “I’d planned to tell you more about my family today. If you’re happy to hear it.”

It should have been a question, but she let it slide because The Family Discussion was a big thing for him.

“Yeah, great.” Because surely a girlfriend would know these things. Also, how long had they been together? Where did they meet? Who chased who? This was going to be a lot more complex than randomly bumping into Jason.

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long to give the new dress a home in her sewing room, opening the bag to let the skirt hang nicely, just how Miquita had shown her.

Before long, they were sat at the breakfast bar in her little kitchen picking at a small helping of beans on toast, because Rhys had eaten about ten thousand tiny sandwiches in the shop and she’d had two cakes. And a milkshake.

“So, Elin is the power in the marriage then?” Lila said, wishing she had a notebook. It would be a bit weird, though, if she sat there taking notes on his family as he blurted it all out. Because that’s what he was doing, blurting and trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Yes. James is…” he searched for the right word. “He’s not as ambitious as Elin, which is a good thing. I think he’d be quite happy not to work, but my father wouldn’t allow that.”

Oh.

“Dad isn’t happy with my life choices,” Rhys started.

This, she knew.

“It’s difficult for me to be in a room with him,” he said, stabbing at some stray beans on his plate. “He’s narcissistic, manipulative, scheming.”

Rhys shrugged and a rueful smile tugged at his lips.

“I know I can be,” he hesitated, “difficult sometimes and I’ve had to spend time learning social niceties. But, as you know, I don’t always get it right.”

Well, that was a lovely bout of self-awareness from Rhys, and for that she gifted him a little smile.

“But I really try. That’s the thing with my father, he doesn’t try. I could forgive him if he learned from his mistakes, learned how to deal with me, Elin, my mother. But he doesn’t. To him, we’re commodities.”

“Oh, Rhys,” she said, feeling a sudden tightness to her throat.

Rhys stared over her shoulder, as if it were easier to talk about this without looking directly at her.

“I’m allowed this ‘sabbatical’ as my father calls it, because he’s so sure I’ll fail and be back in the family business, ready to take over from him when he dies.”

“Is that what he’s said?” Horrified wasn’t the word. Why would you force your child to do something they hated?

Lila schooled her face, because there was nothing worse than pity. But Rhys wasn’t looking at her.

“Oh yeah, it’s fully expected. But Elin would be much more suitable. Or my cousin Madoc.”

“The one who married your ex, Seren?”

“No, that was Ieuan,” he mumbled, stabbing stray beans. Definitely should have a notebook. “Dad liked Seren. ‘She’ll always look good on your arm, son.’” Rhys snorted. “As if I care about that.”

Lila raised one eyebrow at him. He’d just bought her a God-knows-how-expensive dress and now he was essentially confirming exactly what she thought; that she was not, and would never be, good enough for his family. Her shoulders drooped.

“No, I didn’t mean,” he passed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Lila. This is hard.”

She let her face soften.

“Keep going. You’re doing well.”

“My father thinks that the partner of a Dallimore should look good and not interfere. Unless you amuse him, then you move up the pecking order.”

“And your mum? She looks good on his arm?”

Sometimes, a rewind button would be lovely. It would be excellent if those words, so easy to come out of her mouth, would just hop, skip and jump back into her big, fat gob.

But Rhys just smiled softly.

“My mother tempers him. Mostly. He likes to think that she has no influence, but she does,” he said, tipping his head forward. “Well, sometimes.”

“But not about you?”

“Not about me.” His voice was a whisper.

Lila looked at him, his broad shoulders hunched, his eyes tired and hollow, mouth tight. Behind that abrasive, solid, coldness was a sweet, vulnerable little pickle, just trying to go his own way. Like Fleetwood Mac.

Right, enough of this wallowing.

“Rhys, don’t you worry,” she said, her voice full of all the cheeriness she could muster. “We’ve got this.”

He assessed her carefully, looking for any kind of guile. But Lila had no guile.

The man across from her straightened, put his shoulders back and set his jaw. Yes, this was good. She needed him to be Fighting Rhys, because there was no way she could face his family, without him being one hundred percent aloof, snarky, ‘Miss Cartwright’ Rhys.

“Okay.”

Rhys didn’t leave after lunch. She didn’t mind him sitting on her sofa while she read Susie Dent’s Interesting Stories about Curious Words, patiently watching The Great British Sewing Bee, or asking about the difference between French seams or normal seams. When he stood up to rescue some papers from his car to mark, he had off-cut wool stuck to his jeans and she smothered a giggle.

It was comfortable.

Lila frowned at her phone. Thanks for the reply days and days after her question. It would have been nice for Jasmeet to do something that she wanted to do for once.

Rhys didn’t leave until early evening when she stretched and yawned and snuggled into her unicorn blanket.

“I need to go, Lila,” he said. “But before I do, can I ask you something?”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look.

“If it’s anything to do with my secret cookie recipe, then no. I will take that to the grave,” she said, slightly teasing but mostly serious.

He didn’t seem to register this and his face crumpled in a frown.

“Why are you paying Jason’s debts?”

Well, that was direct. Lila rubbed her ring finger and thumb together.

“It’s not really Jason’s loan. We both signed the agreement,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Is he paying half?”

“No.”

“Did you take the loan out?”

“I signed the paperwork, yes.”

“Lila,” he started, with a head tilt that was all disappointment.

“Okay, fine!” she said, throwing her arms up in the air. “It was his idea, he did it all and said it would be much easier if it came out of my account because I was the one earning.”

If Rhys’s face was any harder, it would have been made of granite.

“And now he’s earning and you’re still paying it off?”

“That’s about the size of it,” she mumbled.

Rhys sighed heavily. “Lila, you can’t—”

“No, stop.” She snapped her eyes up to his. “You asked. I told. I didn’t ask for your advice.”

“But—” He just couldn’t help himself, could he? He had to push and push and push.

“No, Rhys! This is my life and I will do what I want to with it. If that includes having to pay off a loan so I don’t have to interact with Jason for the sake of my mental health, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Lila flopped back against the sofa and swallowed hard. That was another tick in the ‘stupid’ box. She’d bet her silk kimono – the one that Maddy and Ruby had brought back from their honeymoon – that Rhys thought she was pathetic for continuing to let Jason walk all over her, paying his debts.

But it was so nearly done and in the next couple of years she could put those payments towards a linguistics course and she’d be on her way.

She just had to bide her time and hope she didn’t have any major issues, like a boiler breakage or a car failure or anything else that would wipe out the scant bit of money she’d have after she repaid the loan.

She glanced at Rhys, and that frown hadn’t moved from his face. His jaw worked as if he was trying to figure it all out. Figure her out.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” he said eventually. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Rhys,” she said automatically.

“No, it’s not. I apologise.” He took her hand in both of his warm ones. “I am sorry.”

“It is okay. I forgive you.”

A small smile flashed across his face, but didn’t reach his eyes.

“I really should go now.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a smile. “I’ll walk you the four steps to the front door.”

A huff of a laugh escaped his chest and he shuffled his papers together and put them in his bag.

“Thanks again,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “For the dress.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, it’s for me really. You know, the ‘personal success’ part of my life.”

Mr Dallimore Senior had really done a number on him if ‘personal success’ was measured by a relationship with the opposite sex. But now was not the time to get into that.

“See you on Monday,” she said. Rhys looked as if he wanted to say something, so she waited. In fact, he even opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut again.

“Rhys, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his smile tight. He was definitely still worrying about it. “See you on Monday.”