Page 44 of Geordie

“This is a large, bright space for a baby,” she says, stepping inside. Connie studies the white walls, opens the closet, and peeks into the bathroom. “This will make a wonderful nursery.”

I let out a breath that she approves.

We step into the hall, walking towards my bedroom. “This is the primary suite. Each bedroom has its own bath, and we have a guest bathroom you passed near the front door.” Connie says nothing, just takes everything in. It's difficult to know what she's thinking. She just nods at every explanation I give her. “Let's go back to the living room so we can talk.”

Connie perches on a chair. I take the couch. I’m feeling the uncomfortable weight of this meeting. Either my tie is too tight for my neck, or my neck is expanding. My fingers itch to remove the bloody noose.

“Where in Scotland are you from?”

“I'm from Edinburgh,” easing a wee bit at the mention of my home. “A place of crags, hills, and tall buildings. It's considered the cultural center of Scotland.”

“You must miss your home. Are you planning to stay in this country?”

“Aye, for now. I have an interest in a few businesses here. A part of my family still lives in Scotland and I'd like my child to know them as well.”

“Your brief stated you'll raise the child alone. Do you have any family here?”

“I have a cousin.”

“Is that the extent of your family in the US?”

“If you're concerned this child won't be properly cared for, I can tell you she will have the best care from a father who loves her.”

Connie smiles at my slip, eyes glinting with delight. “You're hoping for a girl?”

“I am, but I would welcome a boy just as much.”

“Mr. MacTavish...”

I interrupt her, growing tired of this game. “Why so formal, Connie? You've always called me Geordie; actually, you preferred my Christian name, George. Did you think I'd not remember you?”

She gives a relieved smile. “It's been a few years and my last name is different. I wasn't sure if it was you; this isn't where you lived when we dated. This place,” she makes an elegant sweep with her hand, “is a lot trendier than the apartment you rented on 5th Street. I didn't want to remind you of our connection. It would have been awkward if you didn't remember.”

“Our time together was short, aye, but you're memorable.”

“Too short,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners, looking at me like an old friend. “I often thought you brought me luck when we met. After our handful of dates, that job offer in New York came out of the blue. I found a job I love and my husband. I thought I would stay in the east, but he's from California. After two rambunctious boys, we're back raising our children in the place where we grew up.”

Fate is a funny thing. Connie is a warm, beautiful, intelligent woman. We decided not to have a long-distance relationship when she accepted her new position. I often wondered what happened to her. If she hadn't moved away, those two boys could have been mine. There's a wee niggling of regret for a lost opportunity. You always think you have time, but maybe you don't. “It surprised me when I saw your picture. Why did you become a surrogate?”

“I did it for a girlfriend's brother. His wife couldn't keep a pregnancy.” She crosses her legs, settling the hem of her dress just above her knees. “I'll always remember the pain on my friend's face when she told me how desperate her brother and his wife were to find someone to help them, so I volunteered. It was a wonderful experience to help them start their family. It was so rewarding that I wanted to do it again.”

“I have to ask. Are you really considering me?”

“Yes, I am seriously considering working with you,” giving me a half-teasing smile. “I think you would be a wonderful father, but children, especially babies, take a lot of time. As they say, 24/7. How do you plan to take care of an infant?”

“I'll do most of the caregiving and I'll have a nanny to help me. She'll not want for anything.”

“How long have you had the desire to start a family?”

“Since I was a child, I thought about having my own family. I lost my parents when I was very young. My granda raised me. I always envied people who had large families. It's been in the last month or so I decided that it's time to pursue this desire.”

She leans forward, elbows on knees, ready to make a point. “I didn't know that. We said very little about our lives when we were together.”

“Aye,” I say with a grin, “I remember there was too much heat between us to think of anything else.”

There's a blush to her cheeks. Her fingers find her long ponytail, bringing it to rest on her shoulder, something she used to do when she was nervous. That wasn’t fair to bring up the past as if I’m trying to rekindle what we had. “Sorry,” I say, a wee bit embarrassed myself, “those were good memories.” “No need,” she says with a smile, “I treasure that time too. It’s good to know we’re still friends.”

“Aye, we are.”

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