Page 52 of Love, Academically

He was obviously still in the running for the Fellowship, but he couldn’t bring himself to be excited about it.

He’d never get through the interview stage, his body of work just wasn’t big enough.

So why was he putting himself through it?

Rhys sat and typed out a withdrawal, apologising for wasting everyone’s time, and said he would reapply in a few years’ time, when he had more publications and perhaps even a book.

Rhys smiled. What a load lifted from his shoulders.

He didn’t realise how much that had been weighing on him until it was gone.

Ah. That wasn’t really from his mother. That was his father trying to sound out what had happened with the interview.

How his father knew absolutely everything he would never figure out.

Perhaps he had some kind of corporate ‘fixer’.

But why would his father even bother wasting his time on that?

Just to prove to himself that Rhys was some kind of loser, unable to make it in academia and therefore needing his help to be successful in life.

God, what a pathetic little man his father was sometimes.

Fuck this shit. He was going to deal with this once and for all.

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 father here?

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 in happiness?” 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 will not hear 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.

“You love her?” his father spat. “She’s not like Seren. For God’s sake Rhys, she’s Saesneg!”

“Oh for God’s sake, Dad!” Rhys shouted. “It doesn’t matter if she’s English! Christ, it wouldn’t matter if she was green or had no teeth, I’d still fucking love her.”

For once, Llewellyn Dallimore was lost for words. His mouth opened and closed like a sock puppet with no voice. Finally, he raised an arm to point at him, finger shaking with rage.

“Byddwch yn difaru hyn, bach,” You’ll regret this, boy.

“Dad, the only thing I regret is letting you dictate my life for so long.” And how he’d treated Lila, but he wasn’t about to open that little can of worms for his father. “Also, stop calling me fucking bach. I am not a boy anymore and you don’t get to treat me like one.”

“You are a boy until I tell you otherwise, Rhys,” his father said. “I will cut you from this family.”

Rhys scoffed and shook his head.

“Dad, I hope you don’t do that, for Mam’s sake, but if that’s what you feel you have to do, fine.” Rhys put his hands back in his pockets. “I’m done with this discussion.”

“We are done with this discussion when I say we are done with this discussion.” His father’s voice shook with anger.

There was a knock at the open door.

“Um.” Lila stood there, mouth open in a little O, eyes wide in shock. “You’re very loud, and people are still here.”

“You,” his father seethed at her, his face puce.

Rhys was out from behind his desk and across the small office before his father could say anything else, placing himself in front of her.

“Tad,” he warned, this time in Welsh. “Ei amser i chi fynd.” It’s time for you to go.

Looking like he was about to explode, Llewellyn Dallimore sneered one more time at Rhys.

“You’re making the wrong choice, bach,” he said, pushing his way through the door and storming down the hallway.

Rhys watched him go, not regretting one little thing. In fact, his shoulders felt lighter than they had for an awfully long time.

Lila touched his arm gently and he turned to face her. God, she was beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He actually was.

“Yeah, I am,” he said. “Why are you still here? Are you all right? I’m so sorry, my father is…” So many words, none of which would do him justice.

“He is, isn’t he?” she said, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I stayed late because I wanted to come and talk to you, because the flowers are great but I don’t have any more vases at home and then your father came and you were both very loud and we could all hear.

We could hear what he said, what you said.

” She looked up at him through her lashes.

“And I’m a bit flustered now, so I think I should probably go. ”

But she didn’t make any move to leave.

“Lila, I’d obviously like to talk to you, but I’m not going to force you. Like I said, it’s your decision,” he said, rooting his feet to the floor, “but before you do go, can I just tell you a few things?”

She nodded, a pink blush high on her cheeks.

“I’ve realised that I need help to sort through all my emotions and I’ve started therapy because it’s unfair on you to be that sounding board for me.

” He paused briefly before continuing, “and apparently, the blue moustache worked because the Professor Painter wants to introduce me around on the meet and greet evening, but I’m not going to go. ”

“Wait, what?” she said, a frown creasing her forehead.

“It was a pin that my father put in the calendar. Professor Painter hinted strongly in his email that although they were impressed, I don’t have the body of work.

Which I knew. I’ve withdrawn,” he said. “I’m not ready and I don’t want to put myself through the stress of it, nor do I want something I haven’t yet earned. ”

“But Rhys…” she said, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

“I’ll apply again, but when I’m ready, not to prove something to someone else.” He started to reach for her, but held himself back.

“You’ve made me want to be a better person, Lila. You’ve shown me what it’s like to be happy.”

“Rhys—”

“And I’m doing the therapy for me and it’s helping. I feel so much lighter.”

Lila nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I’m glad for you.”

“Lila,” he said softly, “look at me.”

She raised her eyes slowly, until they met his.

“Are you all right? I’m sorry about what my father said. He doesn’t speak for me, he never does.”

She waved her hand dismissively in front of her. “Oh no, I don’t care about what your father said.”

“Then what is it?” he asked. There had to be something because the frown was still across her forehead and the pink blush was flooding her face. She took a breath, then another.

“You love me?”

Was that all? He relaxed and smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “How could I not?”

Lila

Lila was up in the air looking down on herself talking to Rhys.

He was so calm and serene, so relaxed, especially after what had just gone down between him and his father, because quite frankly, that had been bad.

But Rhys looked cleaner and freer than she had ever seen him.

He was obviously tired, the skin around his eyes betraying him, but he was looking at her with clear, bright eyes.

“Oh,” she said. What else was she supposed to say?

How could I not?