Page 59 of Geordie

“No need. I was going to suggest you submit pictures of your four top celebrity favorites and submit them.”

“That's a great idea.”

“You're welcome. I vote for Henry Cavill. Have you seen him inThe Witcher? Yum.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Braw Lass

Geordie

WhileKenzieisbackwith her old volleyball club, maintaining her practice schedule, Lochlan and I have settled into our old routine, until they're off to the next volleyball match. I'm getting stronger by the day, relying less and less on my crutch at home and in the winery. In fact, today is the first day I left it at home, but I'll wait another week or two before I drive.

Lochlan walks beside me in the vineyards along the endless row of barren Chardonnay vines, the coolness nipping at our faces, the brown-packed earth crunching under our boots.

“Are you saying that you're not confident enough to judge the merits of the Dalliance application?” I'm treated to Lochlan's pointed interrogation.

“I've always been quite confident, cousin. I promised Lily I wouldn't be a part of the decision-making. If you accept or reject their bid for a spot in Catriona, that's up to you.”

Lochlan kicks up a clod of dirt as we round the row, heading into another section; the place is like a maze. “I have a problem with her mistreating you when she thought you were the delivery man, and I'm sure she's been nothing but sweet as the Holy Madonna since she found out the contrary.”

“You needn't be angry on my behalf or try to fight my battles; I can swipe at windmills all by myself. Tell me you'll decide their fate solely on if they're the best fit for the project.”

Lochlan grunts a noncommittal response.

“Well, that's been decided. I want to talk to you about new equipment Connell and I have been discussing since you left.”

My phone rings.

“You're not really going to get that?” he asks, as if this is another irritation he has to endure. “Come on, man, we're still in a meeting.”

I ignore Lochlan and pull out my protesting phone. There's no name attached to the number. I almost switch it off, thinking it's spam, but I know several people in that area code. “Geordie MacTavish here.”

“This is Art, your attorney,” he says, as if I’d forget his carefully modulated voice. “I received a message from Connie. She says she wants to meet with you. When are you available?”

My heart drums in my chest as I swing my gaze over to Lochlan's disapproving face. “I can meet anytime today. If that's too soon, tell her she can name the time and day.”

“I'll text you the information when it's confirmed.”

“Was that about Lily?”

I switch off the phone and drop it into my pocket.

“You saidshe. Since you've mentioned no one else in your life, and the two of you have been thick as porridge for weeks, it's a logical assumption.”

“I haven't spoken to Lily since the day you arrived. Connie, the surrogate I told you about, has made her decision. I'm assuming she wants to meet to talk about the details.”

“Then why not discuss it through your lawyer? If you're not going to marry the woman—excuse me, because she's already married—I would think you would have the least amount of connection with her once she agreed to carry a child for you.”

“Let's head back to the office. I want to see what I have on my calendar for today. And to answer your question, I don't want to keep my distance from her. If she's carrying my child, I want to be with her as much as possible, or as much as she'll let me. I want to experience the pregnancy with her. It's about bonding with the child before it comes.”

I pick up my pace, eager to be in my office. Lochlan stops, forcing me to look over my shoulder, face dark, ready to give me another objection. I halt to confront him. “Digging in your heels will not stop my plans. Times have changed, and support goes both ways, cousin—remember that. We need to cut this meeting short.”

We make our way through the back offices until we arrive at my door. My phone rings again as I step inside. I retrieve it from my pocket, while Lochlan takes a seat still annoyed at the interruption. “Geordie MacTavish.” It's my attorney telling me Connie will see me tonight.

It's been a few weeks since Lily lived with me, but there are wee traces of her in the kitchen. She purchased two kitchen appliances; who knew I couldn't live without a toaster oven and an air fryer? There's a new set of wooden spoons she's left in a gray ceramic jar that holds kitchen utensils. Even the freezer was not spared her attention. There are meals and lumps of meat in freezer bags neatly marked with its content and the date before it was dropped into its arctic home. I think about her nearly every day, wanting to pick up the phone just to hear her voice and find out what her day was like.

I glance around to check the state of my apartment. It has always felt like a welcoming refuge after a long day of activity at the winery, but now it seems empty, like something or someone is missing.

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