Dad clears his throat like he's bracing for applause. "I told him you'd have dinner with the son tomorrow. Seven o'clock. He's well-spoken, has a stable job, and he's looking to settle down."
My mouth falls open. "You set me up on a date?"
He nods, confident, like he's announcing something generous. "Yes. It's time, Lena. You're getting older, and Jace needs a father?—"
"Stop." The word shoots out before I can soften it. "Just stop."
He frowns, confused, as if I've rejected a gift. "I don't see the issue. You haven't had a serious relationship in years, and this is a good match. I'm helping."
"No, you're pushing." My voice gets sharper. "You didn't ask. You didn't check whether I even wanted this. You just decided for me."
"Someone has to," he mutters. "You cannot keep wasting time. That clock is ticking!"
My chest tightens. "I'm not wasting anything. I'm raising a kid. I'm running my business. I'm taking care of myself. That's already a full plate."
Dad waves a hand. "And what about the rest of your life? You think men are going to line up forever? You need someone stable."
"I don't need a stranger your age thinks is ‘stable'."
"He's not a stranger. He's a good boy."
"He's thirty," I snap. "He's not a boy."
Dad bristles. "You're being dramatic."
I laugh once, though it probably comes off as slightly manic. "Yeah? Try hearing your own father tell you to go on a date with some random man because you're running out of time."
He opens his mouth. I hold up a hand again.
"No more. I'm not going," I say. "Cancel it."
He shakes his head like I'm being ridiculous. "I already told them you'd be there."
"Then tell them I won't."
His eyes harden. "Lena, don't embarrass me."
That's the real reason he came. It has nothing to do with my future or Jace's, or our happiness. He's worried about his image, and he needs to look like the father who can stillfixhis daughter before it's too late for her.
"I'm not your project," I say quietly. "You don't get to arrange my marriage because people can't stand the sight of a single mom who's making it on her own."
He stares at me for a long moment, face unreadable, then lets out a slow breath.
"We'll talk later," he says, which is dad-speak forI didn't get my way. "The date still stands, and you can decide whether you want to show up or not. But honestly, seeing the mood you're in, I expect you to disappoint me as you always do."
I step toward the door and gesture. "Good night, Dad."
He hesitates—just long enough to make my heart pinch—then nods, grabs his keys, and walks out.
I lock the door behind him and lean my back against it. I don't even get two full breaths before my phone lights up again. Stifling a groan, I go to the counter where I left it, expecting Gabe. But to my annoyance, it's Tom. Tonight obviously wasn't chaotic enough.
He's definitely calling with bad news, or to blackmail me. I let it ring once, twice, before I swipe to answer, jaw tight. "What."
He hums, smug like he's been waiting for this moment. "Wow. Someone's in a mood."
"I'm busy," I say. "Say what you want."
"I'll keep it short," he says, all fake sweetness. "I heard your dad's in town."
