Family Expectations

In response, the dog simply flopped near Grayson's feet, its tail wagging lazily while its tongue lolled out in contentment.

"Grayson!" A deep voice boomed from the house.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, squinting as he saw his father, Charles Blackwood, marching toward him with the same stern look he always wore when bad news was about to drop.

"Hey, Dad! How's life in this quiet corner of the world?" Grayson attempted a grin, brushing dirt off his clothes in a half-hearted attempt to look presentable.

"Grayson, I'm going to throttle you," Charles snapped, jabbing a finger toward his son. "Why on earth did I send you to the States? You wasted my investment!"

Charles had entrusted Grayson with an important deal in New York, expecting him to finalize a lucrative partnership, but his son had spectacularly failed. Not only had the deal fallen through, but Grayson had spent most of the allocated budget on lavish parties and questionable expenses. His cousin Derek had been the one to inform Charles of the fiasco after Grayson conveniently went silent for days.

"Okay, calm down. People make mistakes. It can't have been that bad, right?" Grayson offered, voice tinged with false confidence.

"Not that bad? We lost over three hundred thousand dollars, Grayson!" Charles barked, his face turning red with frustration.

Grayson blinked, visibly stunned. "Wait—seriously? That much?" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recall the exact figure. Surely, he hadn't blown that much. The negotiation had been doomed anyway, so he'd taken a few extra days to unwind in Manhattan, reconnecting with his old friend Fern and indulging in his usual nocturnal escapades.

Charles nodded grimly.

"Look, I get it. I screwed up," Grayson admitted, raising his hands. "How about I make it up to you somehow? Name it."

Charles's frown deepened, but there was a glimmer of opportunity in his eyes. "Fine. You can start by attending the corporate merger meeting today. No excuses."

Grayson groaned. "You know how boring those meetings are. The last time I went, I nearly fell asleep on the conference table."

Charles folded his arms. "You need to learn responsibility, son. One day, all of this will be yours. I won't be around forever, and you need to understand how this business works."

"Dad, stop talking like that. You're healthy. You'll be around for a long time," Grayson said, guiding his father toward the shaded veranda lined with flowering azaleas. "Here, sit down. Relax a bit."

As Charles sank into the chair, Grayson knelt beside him, massaging his forearms in an exaggerated show of affection. "You're as strong as an ox. I'd say you've got a good fifty years left—at least."

Charles raised a skeptical brow. "Fifty? I'm already pushing seventy. Be realistic."

"Fine. Seventy-five, but only if you quit stressing so much." Grayson winked, hoping to defuse the tension.

The older man let out a reluctant chuckle, though his expression quickly sobered again. "You know what would really ease my stress? Seeing you and Derek settled down. I want to see my grandchildren before I leave this earth."

Grayson choked on a laugh. "Settle down? Derek, sure. But me? I'm not exactly the husband-and-kids type. I'm a free spirit, remember?"

Charles's expression hardened. "You've been a free spirit for too long, son. I'm serious. How much longer do you plan to avoid responsibility? You can't just keep… entertaining random women every night."

"Hey, I'm very responsible," Grayson defended, raising a hand in mock protest. "I practice safe sex, I don't get attached, and I never promise anything I can't deliver. Seems pretty mature to me."

Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't about that, Grayson. I'm talking about family. Legacy. You can't keep avoiding commitment forever. What if one of those women ended up pregnant? Would you just walk away?"

Grayson shook his head. "That won't happen. I'm careful. Besides, marriage and kids? It's just not on my radar."

Charles's voice softened, though the sternness remained. "Grayson, listen. I'm not asking you to rush into a loveless marriage. But you can't keep living like this forever. One day, you'll want more. Trust me."

Grayson exhaled heavily, finally giving up the argument. "Okay, fine. I'll think about it. Can we drop the marriage talk now?"

Charles eyed him for a moment before nodding, though the tension in his face lingered. "For now. But you are attending that meeting today. No more excuses."

"Great," Grayson mumbled, slumping back in the chair. "Guess I'm officially a corporate hostage."

The sound of a door swinging open interrupted them. A cheerful voice called from the kitchen entrance. "Grayson! What have you done this time?"

Grayson looked up to see Evelyn Blackwood, his stepmother, standing there with a flour-dusted apron and a rolling pin in hand. Her warm smile made the entire conversation with his father feel less heavy.

"Hey, Evelyn. You baking again?" he asked, grateful for the distraction.

Evelyn grinned. "Of course. I heard Charles grumbling, so I figured a batch of his favorite chocolate chip cookies might help."

Grayson leaned closer to his father. "See? She's got the right idea. Cookies solve everything."

Charles shook his head with a reluctant smile, clearly still exasperated but amused nonetheless. "It's going to take more than cookies to fix your mess, Grayson."

Evelyn approached, dusting her hands off on her apron before placing a gentle hand on Charles's shoulder. "Give him time, Charles. He's not a lost cause—just a bit… spirited."

Grayson shot her a grateful smile. "See? Evelyn gets me."

Charles sighed but didn't argue further. Instead, he pointed a finger at his son. "Meeting. Two o'clock. No excuses."

"Got it, Dad," Grayson said with a salute, though inwardly he was already dreading the tedious affair.

Evelyn gave Charles a gentle pat. "Now, why don't you let me handle lunch while you two finish your talk?"

As she headed back inside, Grayson leaned back in his chair, watching his father silently. Despite the tension, he could see the worry behind Charles's stern demeanor.

"Hey, Dad?" Grayson spoke softly, breaking the silence.

Charles glanced over. "Yes?"

"I'll try to do better. I mean it."

A flicker of relief crossed Charles's face before he masked it with a nod. "Good. That's all I ask."

And for the first time in a long while, Grayson meant it.