Page 29 of Geordie

He turns away, running a frustrated hand through his blond hair. “You know why I don't want kids. I've already been a father.”

“Not to your own children,” I say, quietly.

“I raised my brothers and sister after our parents abandoned us.” The hurt from that time is still rife in his voice. “It was a hard struggle to survive and raise my siblings on my own, but I managed it. They're all responsible adults on their own and doing well.”

“That's why you'd be an amazing father to our children. There's no struggle. You have all the money we could ever need and we would do this together.”

He springs from the chair, jaw clenched in agitation. “I missed part of my childhood and most of my young adult years because my siblings needed me. I don't regret raising them, not for a second, but this is my time to enjoy life.”

“That's where we're different. I need to have a child. I want my own family and the responsibility.” I slip the pink scrunchies onto my wrist and try to make him understand. “We should have had this conversation a long time ago, but when I'd bring up starting a family, you avoided the subject or you said we'd talk about it later. I accepted your reluctance because I thought you weren't ready yet, but that you'd get there eventually. Not until I pressed you that night for a commitment to have a family did you give me a no.”

“Come back, Lily. I only want you. I know we're both hurting. We can work this out.”

“I'm done believing in vague assurances.”

“Give me some time to find a solution.”

I'm in his face. Anger replaces the hurt longing I had for him. “What you're really proposing is that I go back to my fun, cushy life with you, hoping you'll change your mind. Then one day, I'll find I can't have children. Problem solved for you. Next week, I will be thirty-eight.” I throw up my hands, disgusted at how this story ends. “I'm not doing this with you, Stephen. I won't wait.”

It dawns on him I'm serious, as anger sweeps across his face. “I saw you dancing with that guy before they announced my entrance. You didn't tell me if he's my replacement.”

He doesn't deserve an explanation because this is over, but I give him one anyway. “I met Geordie when he delivered wine to Dalliance. I thought he was a delivery guy and wasn't very nice to him. In my defense, we'd just broken up, and I was in a foul mood. I found out later that he's Geordie McTavish, part owner of McTavish Cellars and Catriona. I'm planning to open a second restaurant, and I want a spot at Catriona. The competition for real estate at that venue is fierce, so I apologized and somehow we became friends.”

“You're playing nice with this guy so he'll give you a spot?”

It started out that way. I don't know how I feel about Geordie, not since that almost-kiss. I give him a nod to end his questions about Geordie.

“I hope you get the space you want at Catriona. Let me know if I can help.”

Geordie isn't where I left him. There's only an empty seat next to the dance floor.

“Are you looking for that gentleman with the crutches?” a server asks.

“Yes, do you know where he's gone?” scanning the room for a sign of him.

“I saw him walking towards the marina just as I was finishing my break. He might still be out there.”

Molly calls after me as I rush through the door. I don't have time to stop to answer questions.

I take the long walkway to the dockside. Boats bob in the man-made harbor, glittering with lights along their bow and sails.

A few couples pass me as I walk, but I don't see Geordie anywhere. I'm at the end of the dock, hands on the railing, watching water lapping against the boats. It was too much to ask him to stay. I'm supposed to take care of him and now I've lost him.

“Lass, are you looking for me?” His figure emerges and I don't know why, but I'm relieved to find him.

“I thought you might have questions.”

He stands beside me, watching the same dark landscape. I send him furtive glances, wondering if he's alright. This is a long way to walk. I can't express my concern about his leg; I think I offended him when I asked the last time.

“Aye,” he says, resting his back against the railing. “I have a box full of questions. Are you up to giving me answers?”

I prop my arms on the railing. “I'm sure your number one question is why didn't I mention I was engaged to Stephen?”

He nods, waiting for me to continue.

“Stephen and I are not engaged. We broke up before I met you.”

“That would explain why you haven't talked about your personal life.”

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