_Ezekiel’s POV_
My father had a way of opening conversations that made retreating from them very difficult.
He didn’t announce big topics. He just began them, mid-morning, in the middle of other activities, as if the subject had been sitting in the room the whole time and he was simply finally acknowledging it.
I had come to the main house for what I thought was a routine check-in. We had these periodically when I was in the province, short meetings that covered pack business and regional updates and which usually lasted thirty minutes and involved minimal personal conversation.
But f**k no.
We had only been seated for ten minutes when he said, “It’s time you married.”
I almost choked on my tea. I looked at the tea angrily like it was the root cause of my problems.
“
