Chapter 3 They Know Each Other?

Barbara's POV

Dad chuckled, the lines around his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. "Levi was my most brilliant student. Top of his class in every subject!" He clapped Levi on the shoulder with paternal pride.

The floor beneath me seemed to tilt. I reached out to steady myself against the wall, my fingers digging into the textured wallpaper.

"Why didn't you tell me you were visiting?" Dad continued, completely oblivious to my existential crisis. "It's been what, three years since that guest lecture you gave?"

"About that," Levi confirmed, his face betraying nothing.

"I'll go help Mom," I managed before he could continue, backing away toward the kitchen before my brain short-circuited completely.

Neither man seemed to notice my retreat.

The kitchen enveloped me in its familiar scents — garlic sautéing in butter, the earthy aroma of root vegetables roasting in the oven, and the faint lingering scent of the sourdough Mom had baked that morning. Mom bustled around like a tornado in an apron, her ponytail swinging as she juggled multiple tasks at once.

"Mom," I hissed, my voice tight with panic. "Dad knows him!"

She barely glanced up from the lobster she was dismembering. "Hmm?"

"Dad and Levi. They know each other!" I lowered my voice to a whisper, as if saying his name at normal volume might summon him.

That got her attention. She looked up, lobster claw in one hand, kitchen scissors in the other. "Really? How?"

"Apparently, he was Dad's student. His 'most brilliant student.'" I made air quotes with my fingers, mimicking my father's enthusiastic tone.

Mom's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. "Well, isn't that something?" she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. "Start on those carrots, would you?"

I narrowed my eyes at her as I reached for the peeler. "Did you know? When you set up this blind date?"

"Nope." She was the picture of innocence. "The details Dona gave me were fuzzy. I didn't make the connection to your father's star pupil until just now."

I wasn't entirely convinced, but I knew I couldn't squeeze more info out of her. As I attacked a carrot with violence, a new thought struck me like a thunderbolt. "Did Dad know about the blind date?"

Mom suddenly became very interested in a spot of nonexistent dirt on the counter. "Your father has been so busy with his research lately. No need to bother him with small details."

"Small details? Like setting up his daughter on a blind date?" I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain.

Thirty minutes later, dinner was ready. I knocked softly on Dad's study door, interrupting what sounded like an intense discussion about economic models.

"Dinner's ready," I announced, poking my head in.

The study looked like an academic bomb had detonated. Books lay open across every surface, papers were spread across the desk, and both men were gesturing at a whiteboard covered in equations and diagrams that might as well have been ancient hieroglyphics to me.

Dad blinked owlishly behind his reading glasses, as if emerging from a trance. "Is it that time already? Alright, we'll be right there."

Dinner was surreal. The four of us sat around our oak dining table — the same one I had done my homework on throughout childhood — while Mom served her hastily prepared feast with the flourish of a Michelin-starred chef.

The lobster gleamed red on its bed of garlic butter rice. Crystal glasses sparkled under the dining room light — the fancy ones that only came out for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Mom had even found time to light candles, their soft glow casting everyone in flattering, golden light.

"Michelle, this looks exceptional," Dad said appreciatively, helping himself to the fragrant rice.

Mom beamed, sliding the serving dish toward Levi. "Enjoy yourself! Don't stand on ceremony with us."

Levi thanked her with such polished grace that Mom practically preened, while I watched the interaction with a strange sense of detachment, like I was observing a play where everyone knew their lines except me.

"Barbs," Dad said suddenly, making me startle, "did you know Levi graduated summa cum laude in Economics and Business? Youngest recipient of the Harbordale Excellence Fellowship in the university's history."

I stared at Levi with new eyes. So this was the legendary student Dad had mentioned countless times? The one whose thesis paper Dad had framed in his office? The one he had referenced whenever he caught me procrastinating on assignments?

"If Levi Gardener could write a groundbreaking thesis while taking care of the company, surely you can finish this paper before midnight..."

The pieces clicked into place with dizzying speed. All those years, my father's gold standard for academic excellence had sat across from me in that coffee shop, asking me to marry him.

Mom nodded along to Dad's praise, but her gaze was fixing on something else entirely. My left hand, where the platinum band caught the candlelight. Then her eyes darted to Levi's, where an identical ring rested.

Uh-oh.

"Barbara?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through Dad's academic gushing like a laser through butter. "That ring..."

Dad paused mid-sentence, following her gaze, his brow furrowed in confusion.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly bone dry. Panic clawed at my chest as I shot a desperate glance at Levi, silently pleading for help.

His expression remained maddeningly calm. He met my eyes briefly before turning to my father with the composed authority that seemed as natural to him as breathing.

"Professor Cooper, Mrs. Grey," he said, setting down his fork deliberately. "Barbara and I have gotten married."