Page 68 of Geordie

“Were they useful?”

“Get to the point. Why are you here?”

She pushes away her phone and plants her elbows on the counter. “I had a visit from your friend Kenzie tonight; she came to the restaurant before we opened.”

I try not to telegraph alarm. “What did the two of you talk about?”

“Why, you, of course. I won’t go into the details. It appears you told her everything. Even stuff I didn’t know about.” She glances down at her hands. “I’m sorry. My intent was never to hurt you or dismiss your feelings.”

I point my mug at her. “If this is an apology, I accept it. Your conscience is now absolved. You can go.”

The smile she gives me is almost girlish. “Gee, if you keep telling me you don’t want me around, I might think you don’t like me.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” she pouts, kicking the base of the counter like a child. “I guess I deserve that, but you need to hear me out.”

“I will if you stop kicking the counter.” The obnoxious thumps stop. She reaches down to extract her laptop from her bag. “Kenzie suggested I tell you why I refused your offer.”

“I could have saved you the time and expense coming here. I don’t care about your reasons.”

“Let’s not debate the point. Let’s just say you’re curious and leave it at that.”

“I’m not.”

“Now you’re just being coy.” She opens her laptop. A photo of Dalliance splashes on the screen. “There are reasons I don’t think having a child together would work.” In a couple of taps, she has the PollenNation site up. “When you told me you were planning to have a child, I did some research. If you have a membership on this site, you can check compatibility of anyone who’s a member.” She taps a button and motions me to come closer. On the screen are our profiles side by side. There’s a big circle in the middle of the screen whizzing through percentages. A few moments later, an enormous fifteen percent compatibility flashes on the screen.

“They consider several factors based on the information we provide. This is why you never saw my profile in your inbox as a potential match. We’re not a match. This score is too low to consider parenting together or anything else.”

I squint at the screen. “This is speculation, a suggestion; it’s not set in granite.”

“Then answer some questions from the survey they gave you.”

“Fine, if it will get you out of here quicker.”

She ignores the sarcasm with a smile. “Do you believe in raising a child in a structured environment or one that fits around the child’s needs?”

“Structured.”

“Do you think a woman should work and raise children?”

“I think it’s better for the child to have the undivided attention of its mother.”

“Do you believe–?”

I cut her off, or she’ll be firing questions at me until dawn. “This is hypothetical shite. You can’t know what you’ll do until the child is here. Structure is good for children, helps them know what to expect. Yes, I’m conservative when it comes to raising children, but I’m open to working together to parent a child.”

Her face hardens as she folds her arms. “Do you want to raise your child in Scotland?”

“I do...”

“As I said, it won’t work...”

“It won’t work because you’ve already decided it will not.” I hold up a hand to prevent her from interrupting. “I’d raise the child in Scotland, if it was just me. If you’d agreed to have a baby with me, we’d work out a compromise—I’d even sign an agreement. We would parent together.” It’s late and my muscles are tense from the conversation. “You’ve proved your point. I’m not the man to father your child. You should leave and use the services of an anonymous donor to have your baby.”

She doesn’t budge. Her foot thumps against the counter, the sound irritating.

“Stop that, leave.”

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