Page 115 of Geordie

“I told Geordie I needed to check service at the restaurant. He knows we've been having problems with the freezer.”

A smile creeps across his handsome face. “So, you lied.”

“Yes, I lied. Only so I won't have to endure a scene at my party.”

We're silent while the Bugatti gobbles up miles. We're heading into the country. Once he turns off the main street, the vehicle climbs a private road. We motor past ancient trees with bent bows, sunlight dappling through the leaves, as we speed up a winding hill. I don't have to ask where he's going; I already know.

The house is as I remember it, a European-style manor in the South Bay foothills. We stayed here a few times for a weekend when the owner, an old friend of Stephen's, was present. Stephen swings the car into the circular driveway. A man strides out from the vine-covered entry, his heels tapping the brick surface. He opens the door. “Hello, Aubrey,” I say to the house manager.

“Hello, Ms. Warren, wonderful to see you again.” Stephen comes around the car, standing beside me. “And you as well, Mr. Dunaway.” He gestures to the house. “If you'll follow me, we are set up in the conservatory.”

I see the conservatory fully when Aubrey steps aside. There are flowers blooming in boxes running alongside the walls of the glass enclosure. The slender, elongated leaves of small palm trees provide beauty and a little privacy for someone seated next to them. Couches and chairs are lined in a spring fabric with bright pillows. I see a table and chairs in the center that's used for meals or the odd card game, and it sits under a crystal chandelier that would be more at home in an ornate ballroom. It’s a room that brings the outside in.

“It's close to noon. Will you have lunch with me? The kitchen will prepare anything you like,” Stephen asks, while Aubrey waits for instructions.

“I'm fine.” I’m not happy that he kidnapped me. Once he has his say, we'll be speeding back to the shopping mall, but in the meantime, I'll be patient.

“Aubrey, just give us a light selection of something. I think cook remembers Lily's favorites.”

Aubrey inclines his head. “Very well,” he says, then turns to meet with the kitchen staff. Stephen's request for something light will make them tear their hair out. Better to be specific when talking to a chef.

Stephen turns to the drinks cart. “If you won't eat, have a drink with me.”

Maybe whatever he wants to say will be easier with a drink. “A G&T please.”

He bobs his head, then turns to the task. I settle on a couch while he drops ice in glasses, followed by gin, tonic, and a wedge of lime. He offers a tumbler to me before sitting in a chair.

“How's the baby-making coming along?”

I take a sip, the lime bumping against my lips. I look over as I finish, then I shake the glass, just to hear the cubes clink. “Is this why you brought me here, for a progress report?”

He sits forward, elbows on knees, holding his glass in both hands. “I'm sorry. That was insensitive. How have you been? You've been on my mind since we talked after your miscarriage.”

He still wants to save me, to make everything right. “I'm better, putting things in perspective, learning to live with the loss, but never forgetting.”

“You know, Lily, you don't need to continue this experiment if it's not working. I've changed. Better that we try together.”

I look out beyond the conservatory to a stretch of the garden. There's beauty everywhere. It's like my old life with Stephen when we'd take trips to some of the most beautiful places in the world. I'm thinking differently about Stephen because Geordie has a choice, an almost dead certainty he can have a child with Connie. Although I don't want to admit it, I have a choice too. Stephen could be my Plan B. Which way should I roll the dice? “I'll think about it.”

Hope lights his eyes as if I've already said yes. “That's all I ask.”

Aubrey appears with two servants with trays of food. They set down this massive feast and there's no way for me to leave without eating, not after the chef's efforts. Aubrey pulls out my chair and for an hour, I'm in a time warp, dining with the man I love, like the past year never happened.

The drive back to the shopping mall was faster than the ride to the manor house. I push open the car door, as I realize, with a dose of heavy guilt, that I've been gone for three hours.

“Lily, thanks for spending a few hours with me on your birthday; it meant a lot seeing you.” Stephen leans over, his scent familiar. He's in shirt sleeves and so close, I think he's coming over for a kiss. My mind is swirling about what he's going to do until he presses the button on the glove box and palms something in his hand.

Am I a little miffed that he didn't kiss me? He's looking ahead at the traffic in the parking lot, his wrists resting on the steering wheel, one hand closed over something. “We first met after your birthday, but I knew you were the one, a week after we met. You talked about traditions we created when we were texting. I thought of another. I hope we're together on the anniversary of the day we met, but if not, I want you to have this.”

“No, you didn't need to do this, not this year.” He extends his hand and I take the box from his open palm. I open the satin box to an exquisite pear-shaped diamond ring.

He leans in, his arm over the back of my seat. “I know it's still a no for now. Just put this with the other rings I've given you every year for the past six years. Don't think about giving it back. That's a symbol of my love for you, even if we're not together.” He takes my hand. “There's one more thing I have to do to complete the ritual. Lily, will you be my wife?”

Chapter fifty-six

White Pashmina

Geordie

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