Page 105 of Geordie

It'sstilldark.Like,dead-of-winter dark. I'm on my side, tangled among the covers and facing the wall, half asleep, and I'm alone.

Geordie promised one night only and, apparently, he's made good on his word and left. I shift onto my back, looking up at the ceiling, when I catch the scent of French dark roast coffee. Pushing out of bed, I whip my robe off the chair to cover my nakedness. Geordie won't care and if he's as horny as I am this morning, I might end up bent over the kitchen counter.

The coffee is on warm, but there's no sign of Geordie until I walk into the living room. He's dressed in slightly wrinkled clothes, a steaming mug in his hand and his other arm above his head leaning against the window, watching the first few shards of sunlight bathe the city. “There's coffee in the kitchen,” he says without turning toward me.

I approach him cautiously, not able to gauge his mood. “I saw the machine on when I walked through the kitchen. Thanks for making coffee; you didn't need to do that.”

He takes a sip from his mug and sighs, still staring out the window. “I don't know if this is too soon to ask, and I'm sorry if it is, but are we going to try for another child?”

I stop a few feet away from Geordie. I haven't thought about another child; I've been too busy grieving. Would it be disrespectful to the baby I lost to have another so soon? What I've read says it's up to the woman when she feels comfortable trying to have another child. “Yes, I want to try again. I can re-set up my ovulation calendar and we can sync our calendars together for the best time for us to try.”

He turns, facing me, his gaze roaming over the silk robe that clings to my body. I don't know why, but I clutch at the halves of my garment, bunching it at my throat. It doesn't make sense; he's seen everything.

“I want to try as well, but not the way we did it before. We've done it your way, with your rules. If I do this, we conceive my way.”

“I don't understand. What do you want to change? Our routine was working perfectly.”

He sets his mug down. “It wasn't working perfectly for me.”

I take a seat on the couch while he's propped against the wall. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to conceive naturally. I'll not wank my tadger in a room down the hall just to fill a syringe with my fluid.”

I give an inward sigh. If that's his demand, then there won't be much of a change. “After what we did last night, I have no problem with that request–”

“I'm not finished.”

Uncomfortable alarm bells start pounding in my head. From the looks of that frown on his face, he might not budge on what he wants.

“Throw your ovulation calendar away; I don't want that ruling our lives. We should have sex whenever the urge takes us.”

“You mean whenever you want.”

“I said either of us.” Irritation is in his voice. “I don't like sex on a timetable. The freer we are to act on our impulses, the more likely you'll conceive. You said last night that you were ready to be with me. I've been ready for months. I want to winch and do it properly.”

I chuckle at the Gaelic word for courting, but it's better than hook-up, sliding left on an app, or engaged. Geordie's scowl-prone face appears more when we have these serious discussions. “Alright, seeing each other a little more is fine, but I'll continue to work. We can work something around our schedules.”

The couch creaks when he adjusts his weight to sit next to me. “Our lives are busy; that shouldn't be an excuse. No separate housing. We live together.”

“This is what you've been angling for, even before I conceived. How long should I park myself in your apartment?”

“For as long as you want, but at least until the baby is weaned.” His face is flushed pink with frustration, he takes a breath. His voice surprisingly calm. “Look, lass, my place is bigger, and you don't even have a proper bed here.”

“If that's your concern, I can have one delivered in a few days.” I pop up from the couch to search for my phone.

“Lily, stop. At least tell me why you're against living with me.”

“Because that gray and steel shrine to manhood is not me; I need my things around me. I want my kitchen.”

“I thought you'd say that. This time I'm prepared for your objections. I understand you don't want to stay at my place. I don't want to stay in your apartment either. Let's find a house and live there; we can find one that fits both our needs.”

Let's find a house, says the guy who has unlimited wads of cash. “Geordie, I can only afford one residence and I won't let my apartment go.”

“I'm not asking you to buy a house with me. I'll buy the house; it will be yours to do what you want. Sell it, give it away, I don't much care. I want it for you and our child.”

The whims of the rich. That's why I kept my apartment and continued to work when I was with Stephen. Throwing money at a problem to make it go away was too easy. I sit down next to him. He's still the best chance I have to conceive and after last night, shit, I want to be with him even more. Waking up with Geordie every morning would be a treat.

“The house won't be a burden to you. I'll pay the taxes, insurance, and maintenance for as long as you own the house. I'll have an agreement drawn up.” He picks up his phone from the table, taps the screen for it to come alive. “I've been talking to a realtor. I gave him requirements, things I thought you'd like. We can buy anything you want. The realtor sent me what's available, from mansions to cottages.” Geordie hands me the phone. “He's sent photos of each of the listings.”

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