Page 32 of Geordie

Lily chuckles and sits on the couch to wait. She's still in that schoolgirl costume and has no idea how sexy she looks trying to pull her skirt down over her thighs.

A few microwave minutes later, I'm leaving the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate in one hand, a crutch under the other arm. Don't know why I have this in the kitchen; I never use the packets of chocolate or marshmallows. I set them down, the steam rising from the mugs.

She takes a tentative sip and sighs, still in her thoughts.

I gulp my chocolate that's too hot and place it on the table. “Don't you think we should talk?”

“Alright,” she says a little weary. “I’m guessing this discussion won’t be about the cool music or food.”

“No, it’s about the bomb your ex dropped before he left. Is what he said true or is it the ramblings of an angry ex-boyfriend who's trying to hurt you?”

She holds her mug in both hands, weighing options. Will she admit to the truth or tell me a story that will make me less unhappy?

She blows on the chocolate, watching the white pillows of marshmallow bob. “The evening we met, I was out of sorts. I had just broken up with Stephen and I was in a foul mood. You just happened to be the target. You didn't endear yourself by walking through a high-end restaurant during service with two boxes of wine under each arm.”

I unstrap my ankle boot, glad for the relief, and push it to the side; it's become burdensome. “That's the story you told me. Apparently, you told Stephen something different. If I had to guess, it sounds like you told him you're using me to get a space in Catriona. Is that true?”

She squirms, like I've caught her in a lie or a half truth. “All right, full disclosure, when I found out who you were, I knew the way I treated you could hurt Dalliance's chances. I couldn't let that happen. Opening a second restaurant in Catriona is important.”

“I'm sure it's important to every restaurant that applies.” I land in a chair, my annoyance threatening to spill into this conversation. Does she know how bad this looks? Does she care? I try to see this through her eyes, but all I see is deceit. That's the only reason she gave me a ride home from the hospital, shopped, and cooked for me. It was an opportunity to get what she wanted. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to apply for a space in Catriona, or have you already done that?”

She stiffens, her lips a defiant line. “We're working on the application. My partner and I have been discussing it, but he wants to see Catriona before he'll agree to an expansion.”

“So, you weren't a good Samaritan. This was a game to get what you wanted.”

She sighs. “It might have started out that way, but it's not how I feel now.”

“Well, lass, I imagine you changed when you got caught and realized your chance just slipped away.”

Lily's mouth opens, then shuts just as quickly.

She looks hurt, young, even vulnerable in that costume as she rises to her feet. I try to switch off my feelings, but the sight of her still gets to me. My heart aches for her, but she had all this time to talk to me about what happened and she chose not to. I thought we were building a genuine friendship and that something new was blossoming between us. What did I expect? She's acting like most of the American women I've met, brazen and calculating, especially when they know I'm one of the heirs to the MacTavish fortune.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate and for coming with me to the party. I think I’d better go.”

“I agree, lass. It's time for you to be on your way.”

She grabs her purse, hefting the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she heads out. I trail after her to open the door. Lily turns to me before leaving. “I know I can't change your mind, so I won't try. I want you to know,” she starts, her face a mass of frustration, “this might have started out one way, but it was ending up to be something very different.”

I say nothing. I'm not willing to risk any more of my heart on this woman.

She stomps by me into the hall.

“Lily,” I call after her, “Catriona will review your application without prejudice. There will be no retaliation for your actions. In fairness, I will recuse myself from the process.”

Art Sheldon, the attorney I hired to help me start my family, opens his office door and sweeps his hand to the chair in front of his desk. He's a small man who looks like he's about to drown in his clothing. I'm not sure if he doesn't know where to get his suits tailored or if he just had a rapid weight loss. Calculating eyes, a bulbous nose, and a thin mouth observe me from behind the desk.

“Thank you for giving me an appointment on short notice. I'm eager to begin the process.”

“It was no problem. I had an opening and, after Tim told me you'd be calling, I wanted to make sure I brought you in soon. He told me you're considering adopting a child?”

I shift in my seat. It's difficult for me to express what I want; it's still new to me. “I'd like to adopt a girl.”

He's not able to hide his surprise. “May I ask why?”

“Since I lost my parents when I was young, I've wanted a family of my own. My grandfather raised me along with my two male cousins. Growing up in a mostly male environment, I'd like to have a daughter to raise.”

“I see,” he says. There's creaking as he sits back in his chair, studying me. “Don't let my next question offend you, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what is your sexual orientation?”

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