Page 95 of Geordie

I hold Jamie. As Molly recalls her labor, she's animated now that it's behind her. I'm with her for about twenty minutes, but I know that Eddie and her mom probably want to come back to the room. “I don't want to take more of your time,” I whisper, my hand gently brushing the baby's soft cheek. It's just a few more months until Geordie and I are holding our child. I don't want to rush this time. I want to experience every day of this pregnancy. I look at Jamie’s angelic face one more time as I hum a tuneless melody to him.

“You're a natural, Lily. It's clear you should be a mother.”

I stare open-mouthed at the tall, handsome man holding an enormous bouquet.

“Stephen,” Molly exhales with excitement. “I didn't think you'd make it. Your assistant said you would be unavailable today.”

He takes long strides toward the bed and gathers her into his arms. “I'm unavailable to everyone else, but not to you. How could I miss seeing Lady Madonna?”

I'm ignored during this reunion. If it wasn't for the child in my arms, I would have walked out. Seeing Stephen is painful; too many what-ifs make this uncomfortable. Molly is still looking up at him, trying to pat loose strands of hair back into place and straightening her hospital gown.

“I should be going,” I say, eyeing the door.

“No, the three of us haven't been together in ages.” She opens her arms to receive her baby and this time I relinquish my attachment.

My back to Stephen, I push a strand of hair behind Molly’s ear, her eyes pleading with me to stay. I know she has visions of being the peacemaker, but I can't stay for another emotionally charged scene with my ex. “Visit with Stephen and your family,” I say. “We'll catch up after you're back home.” The disappointment shines clearly in her eyes, and I feel horrible abandoning her because my ex showed up to make things awkward.

Stephen brushes past me to place the flowers on the table. “I'll walk Lily out and then we can talk, just you and me,” he says to Molly, his presence a light in this dull room. His tailored jeans, the crisp white shirt, and the right color of charcoal jacket is the perfect outfit to wear to visit a friend who just had a baby.

A tiny cry comes from the bundle in Molly's arms. Jamie's eyes open and close, his mouth more urgent for food. “Looks like this one is ready to eat,” Stephen observes. “I'll wait outside until you're ready to see me. In the meantime, I'll ask for a vase.”

I slip through the door with Stephen close behind me. It never occurred to me he might show up. Molly probably planned this in hopes we'd meet. At the nurse's station, I overhear Stephen having a quick word with the nurse, who appears to be directing him to the gift shop for a vase. I walk by him, push open the doors and childishly try to lose him, but his footsteps echoing on the polished linoleum say I'm losing that battle.

“Come on, Lily. Don't make me chase you, I just want a minute of your time. You can at least give me that.”

I stop. “Don't force me to be rude, Stephen. I can't go another round with you.”

His jacket moves aside as he pushes his hands into his pockets, and he’s leaning against the wall. It must be my mission to disappoint everyone I meet today.

“I wasn't joking back there, Lily. You should be a mother. Seeing you with that baby in your arms, I realize I selfishly said no to a life that we could have had together, and I'm deeply sorry.”

I rock on my heels, glancing down the empty hall, searching for words. Damn, why do I still love this man? Today would be different for us if he had said yes. This child I'm carrying would have been his.

He pushes away from the wall to stand in front of me. “I know it's too late for us, but if things ever change, I still want a life with you. If it's siblings you want for that little one you're carrying, I want that too and I'll gladly accept your baby as our family.” He doesn't wait for a response. A sad smile creeps across his lips for a moment, then he walks towards Molly's room without a backwards glance.

Chapter forty-six

Flicker of Light

Lily

Harvhasenjoyedthelimelight for a lot longer than me. He's been a successful chef in a few restaurants. I'm lucky that he agreed to mentor me all those years ago. Maybe that's why he's taken a back seat in our partnership, to allow me to shine. Having a cooking spot at a local San Francisco station every week is a new experience. They’ve invited us to the television station to explore the possibility.

It turns out that Harv has met Mr. Station Manager before, when he was a regular at the Trailer Park restaurant. The meeting was between two old pals talking about the good old days. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, I asked for a tour of the kitchen set.

TV sets are funny places; it's a shallow reality. They show just enough to make you think it's real life, but it's not. When I had my fill of peering into cabinets and checking out the refrigerator and stove, Harv and Mr. Station Manager joined us.

“Well, Harv, are you ready to shoot a segment? Our marketing department has been waiting to get their hands on some footage.”

“I would, and by the way, you have an impressive operation here, but we haven't done any prep for the segment.”

“It seems your assistant here”—Mr. Station Manager inclines his head toward me—“sent us a list of ingredients a few days ago. We've assigned an assistant to you, who's done the prep.”

I bristle at the mention that I'm Harv's assistant. I mean, Harv is older and we're partners. That's probably why he made the wrong assumption.

“Okay, let's do this.”

The crew assembles, and Harv does the cooking while I play assistant. I let him lead, handing him ingredients as he cooks, only commenting when he asks me to explain why we use a technique. He does, however, because he’s a pro, mentions Dalliance and that I'm the head chef and he is the sous chef at the restaurant.

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