Page 119 of Geordie

Geordie shrugs off his jacket, going through the ritual of changing, quietly watching me, while my mind races. I need to talk with him before I break down.

“Why don’t I make us some hot cocoa, Leannan? I think I can do it the way you taught me. We can relax. You only have a few more minutes of your birthday left.”

After I’ve slipped into jeans and pulled on a sweater, I pick up my discarded necklace and earrings from the vanity and place them in the box, then snap it shut. “Not now.”

“Alright, then talk to me.”

I take a seat at my vanity. “This was the best party I’ve ever had, because of you.”

There’s less tension in his face, but he’s on guard. “I want you to be happy, Lily. Let’s go on a trip. A wee vacation can be good. It will allow you to think and get some perspective.”

This should be a drowsy, happy time to discuss the party or a sexy, private celebration at the end of my birthday. I take a moment, then decide it’s time. “Molly’s news has already given me perspective. It’s helped me to decide. I’m releasing you from our co-parenting agreement so you can be free to have a child with Connie, because I’m afraid you’ll pass up this opportunity out of some loyalty to me, and I can’t let you do that.”

He’s not raging. Somehow, he must have expected this. He’d have to be oblivious; after months of not conceiving, Connie’s offer, and the news about Molly.

“We can continue to try. Conceiving takes time for some couples.”

“You sweet man, we are not a couple. Our bond is over a child… and there is no child.”

I head to the closet and pull down a suitcase. Geordie slumps against the wall. “You’re leaving, now?”

“There’s no reason to stay,” I say, rolling the case out, then hoisting it onto a bench.

“Why are you in a hurry? Are you running away from me or are you going to someone else?”

I whip around to a face set in anger.

“What are you talking about?”

He crosses to my dresser, opening the second drawer. I stumble back when he produces the black ring box. “You lied to me. You said you were going to Dalliance to check service; instead you went to see your ex.”

I grab the box from him and shake it in his face. “It’s not what you think.” I toss it into the case.

“Then why did you not tell me?”

Geordie’s not blocking my way, but he’s standing awfully close.

I grab an armful of clothes and drop them into the case. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have seen him,” he shouts, slamming the drawer closed. “How long have you been having these meetings? Were you fucking him too?”

This is too much, all of it, everything. He really believes what he’s saying, or is it just hurt talking? “We agreed to have a child,” I say, pointing a finger between us. “I wasn’t fucking him,” I grit out. “Stephen sent me a text wishing me a happy birthday. I thanked him for the birthday wishes, then he asked me to meet him.”

“Why, Lily? Why would you see him?”

I shake my head. This whole thing is sad. Neither of us can have what we want without a price. “He said he had a present for me and that if I didn’t see him, he would show up at the party to deliver it. I wanted to avoid a scene. I knew the two of you would have gone at each other, so I met him.”

“That’s an engagement ring,” he accuses, crossing his arms, chin jutting out as if he’s in the right. “I saw the inscription. He asked you to marry him, didn’t he, and now you’re going back to him?”

The pounding in my head has me on the verge of a migraine. If this will give him the child he wants so desperately, then let him hate me. I press my fingers to my temple to relieve the pressure. “Stephen has asked me to marry him every year we were together. This will be the sixth engagement ring he’s given me. I’ve turned him down each time he proposed. He gave me another ring because he didn’t want to break tradition.”

“What did you tell him this time?” he asks with more hurt than anger.

I weigh what to say. Our relationship has been a series of missteps and misunderstandings. Another lie won’t help. “I told him I would think about it.”

He falls into the chair, elbows on knees, rubbing his face. “This is your house; I’ll be the one to leave.”

“We made this home together; I can’t stay here without you. My apartment is empty; I’ll live there. Later, I’ll decide what to do with the house.”

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