“Right, then, Archibald,” Gerald Edward said, sliding a blank sheet of paper and a pen across the desk, “write your resignation. Here and now.”
“What do you mean?” the young man frowned. “Have I done something wrong? Only this month, I closed three deals.”
“Couldve been thirty! Were restructuring… streamlining. You dont fit the companys vision, simple as that.”
“Or is this about your daughter? About Eleanor? Ill still see her. Were getting marriedeven if I end up scrubbing floors for a living.”
“Never. Not in a million years! I wont have some skirt-chasing layabout for a son-in-law. Eleanors a fine girlshell find a proper match. Stay away from her!”
When Archibald first joined the firm, hed never dreamed of getting involved with the bosss daughter. Back then, he didnt even know Eleanor existed. Fresh out of university with top marks, hed set his sights on a career in property salessharp suits, fast deals, luxury penthouses. Gerald Edward had personally headhunted him after his internship. And now here he was, being strong-armed into quitting.
As for his reputation with women, well, Gerald wasnt entirely wrong. Archibald had always taken pride in his appearancedesigner suits, a sleek German car parked outside. A catch, by all accounts. But marriage? Not on his radar. Hed wanted to climb the corporate ladder first, settle down later. Life was long; thered be time for white picket fences and nursery colours.
His parents, of course, had other ideas. Theyd foisted him upon every “suitable” girl from “good families.” Suitable, perhapsif you overlooked the ones who couldnt hold a conversation or whose looks failed to match their pedigree.
Take Angelica, for instancehis mothers pick from the accounting department. Statuesque, with legs men gawped at on the street. Even Archibald had been momentarily speechless.
His mother pounced.
“Angelicas only been with us a short while, but shes already charmed everyone. And her sconesoh, Archie, youve never tasted anything like them.”
“Ill bring some round,” Angelica drawled, batting her lashes. “And I make a mean Sunday roast, too.”
The mention of roast dinners killed the fantasy. Archibald pictured steamy kitchens, laundry lines strung with nappies, and bubbling pots of stew. His skin crawled. Domestic bliss could wait.
Angelica turned up anyway, scones in hand. He bolted, citing an urgent meeting.
Then there was Imogen, the checkout girl at the local supermarket. Theyd bumped into each other often enough that casual drinks turned into barbecues with friends, then weekends away. Gerald Edward had even approved.
“Decent girl, that one. Looks at you like youre the sun itself. Dont ditherwomen like that dont come along often.”
“Not looking to marry,” Archibald had saidfoolishly. “Were keeping it casual.”
“Casual wont last forever,” Gerald muttered, skewering a sausage.
Eventually, Imogen transferred stores. Rumor had it shed married some wealthy divorcé. Archibald shrugged. No promises had been broken.
But Eleanor? That was different. Theyd met at a dog show, bonding over their shared love for Dobermans. Neither could own onehis flat was too small; her father was allergic. It was months before he realized her father *was* Gerald Edward.
They grew closer. He walked her homenever to the door, though. She wasnt ready for her parents to know. Their goodnight kisses were stolen on a bench near the car park.
Until Gerald stumbled upon them.
“You know who this is?” he roared, jabbing a finger at Archibald.
“My fiancé,” Eleanor said simply. “Weve been meaning to introduce you.”
“Weve *met*! Dyou know how many girls hes had? I could name half of them!”
The argument spiralled. Archibald pleaded, but Gerald dragged Eleanor home like a misbehaving child.
The next day, the resignation demand came. No amount of vows of love swayed him.
“Well still see each other,” Archibald insisted on his way out.
“Over my dead body,” Gerald spat. “My daughter doesnt need some gadabout. And *I* dont need you for a son-in-law.”
“Frankly, Im not thrilled about you as a father-in-law either.”
Eleanor vanished. Gerald had shipped her off to his brothers place up northno phone, no internet.
Then, a miracle: a forgotten mobile left on the counter. She called. They plotted an escape. Archibald rented a flatsomewhere Gerald wouldnt think to look. A wedding could wait.
Life settled. Then came the news: Eleanor was pregnant. Joy all aroundexcept, presumably, for Gerald. He relented just enough to let his wife visit.
When the baby camelittle OliverArchibald paced outside the maternity ward, flowers clutched in sweaty palms. His parents stood by, even Eleanors mother, dabbing her eyes.
Then, from nowhere: Gerald. He glared at Archibald, grunted,
“Got champagne in the car. And a fruit basket. Suppose were celebrating?”
Eleanor emerged, spotting him instantly.
“I knew youd come.”
Gerald shuffled, gruff.
“Here for the lad, not you. Let me hold himought to meet my grandson.”
Laughter bubbled up around them.
A story of second chances, stubborn hearts, and the quiet ways love wins.
