Unscripted Moments (2)
1247 Words
William didn’t cancel lunch with his dad.
Maybe because he knew if he did, his father would reschedule over and over until it eventually happened. Or maybe because some part of him wanted to see if this time would be any different.
It wouldn’t be. It never was.
The restaurant was precisely the kind his father preferred—sleek, expensive, devoid of warmth. The kind where people in tailored suits discussed million-dollar deals over overpriced entrées, where even the air carried an air of exclusivity. The clinking of silverware and hushed conversations filled the space.
When William arrived, his father was already seated at their reserved table, swirling a glass of amber liquid, posture as rigid as always.
“William.”
“Dad.”
“You’re late,” his father said, barely looking up.
William checked his watch. “Two minutes.”
His father gestured toward the empty chair opposite him. “Sit.”
William sighed, lowering himself into the seat. Silence stretched between them before his father spoke again, setting his glass down with a quiet clink.
“You look tired.”
William smirked. “Funny. Gran said the same thing.”
His father’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of her, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he lifted his glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down.
“You’ve been visiting her more.”
William leaned back, fingers tapping idly against the table. “Yeah.”
A slow nod. “That’s good.”
William arched a brow. “You could visit her too, you know.”
His father exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. “She doesn’t always remember people. It’s easier this way.”
William scoffed. “Easier for you.”
A pause. A sharp glance. But his father didn’t argue. He never did.
The waiter came by, breaking the tension long enough for them to order. William barely glanced at the menu before asking for a steak, medium-rare. His father, predictably, went for something more refined—something French, probably.
Silence stretched between them again.
Then, casually, his father said, “You should settle down.”
William blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
He let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s new. You were always more interested in my career than my personal life.”
His father adjusted the cuffs of his suit. “Your career is stable. It’s time to think about your future.”
William leaned back in his chair. “And by ‘future,’ you mean...?”
His father didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gave a small nod toward something—or rather, someone—behind William.
“William,” his father said smoothly, “this is Elise Carter.”
William turned just as a woman approached their table.
Tall. Poised. Elegant in the way that spoke of old money and careful upbringing, with the kind of beauty that came with careful curation—like a painting displayed in a gallery, flawless but distant. Her heels barely made a sound as she stopped beside them, her lips curving into a practiced smile. Everything about her, from the sleek fall of her hair to the effortless grace of her steps, screamed perfection. She smelled of expensive perfume and subtle florals.
“William,” his father said smoothly, “this is Elise Carter.”
Elise extended a hand, her red-painted lips curving into a polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Finally?
William shot his father a look. “Did I miss the part where we scheduled this meeting?”
His father ignored him.
Elise, to her credit, didn’t seem fazed. “Your father speaks highly of you.”
William almost laughed at that.
His father spoke of him? That was news.
He shook her hand, offering a polite, distant smile. “Nice to meet you too.”
The waiter returned with their food and took Elise’s order as she slid gracefully into the seat beside William as if she belonged there.
The conversation that followed was predictable—talk of business, expectations, family legacies. His father and Elise exchanged words like dance partners who had practiced the steps a thousand times. William, meanwhile, barely contributed, focusing instead on the food he no longer wanted.
He wasn’t stupid.
This wasn’t just lunch.
It was a setup.
Elise was everything his father would approve of—smart, polished, the kind of woman who would slot into the Benson name without disrupting the carefully constructed image his father cared so much about.
William placed his utensils down, appetite gone.
“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, rising from his chair.
His father barely blinked. “William—”
“I’ll see you later.”
Elise didn’t look surprised. If anything, she looked... amused.
William didn’t wait for whatever parting words his father had. He just walked away. The heavy scent of rich food and expensive cologne followed him out of the restaurant.
And as he stepped outside into the fresh air, frustration twisted in his gut. His father hadn’t just suggested he settle down. He had handpicked someone to make it happen. The city air felt cold, and the sound of traffic was a dull roar.
Williams inhaled deeply, willing his temper in—but the cold air didn’t help or clear his head the way he hoped. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin as he rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension coiled there.
His father was relentlessly predictable in the worst way. Always curating William’s life like another corporate deal—selecting the right associates, the right opportunities, the right woman.
William flexed his fingers at his sides, resisting the urge to slam his fist against the nearest surface. The worst part? He should be used to this by now. But it never got easier—just more exhausting.
Elise had been pleasant enough. Smart. Composed. The kind of woman who could seamlessly fit into the Benson name without disrupting the structure his father valued so much.
And yet, the idea of settling into that neat, pre-approved life left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Not out of longing. Not out of interest. Just... curiosity.
Barbara.
The thought of her came unbidden, slipping through the cracks of his irritation before he could stop it. He didn’t even know why—she wasn’t part of this world, had nothing to do with the expectations his father placed on him.
And yet... something about her had stuck.
William let out a frustrated breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he strode toward his car. His father would hate her. Not because of who she was, but because of what she wasn’t. She didn’t care about power plays or legacy or carefully arranged business mergers disguised as relationships.
But that wasn’t why she lingered in his mind.
It was the way she had looked at him, humor masking something deeper. The way she had recognized something in him—something he wasn’t sure even he fully understood.
He unlocked his car door but didn’t get in right away. Instead, he stood there for a second, fingers tapping absently against the roof. The smell of exhaust fumes and the distant hum of the city filled the air.
It didn’t matter.
And yet, his grip tightened on the handle, and for the first time in a long while, William wondered if his father’s plan wasn’t the only thing unraveling.
- Writer
