Page 54 of Geordie

He smiles. “You jilted me from reality, I couldn’t sleep. I was going over a proposal for new equipment.” He scoops up the paper and tucks it away in the drawer of the bedside table. “I know I just asked, but is anything amiss?”

“Thank you again for the lovely evening. It's just what I needed. The way you move around this evening, it seems you no longer need my help. I'll pack my things tomorrow and move out.”

A little surprise creeps into his eyes, but he tempers it with a nod. “If that's what you wish. I'll miss you. I'm afraid I'll never see you again after you leave.”

“It doesn't need to be the case. If you want to see me, you can always come to Dalliance.”

He gives a deep chuckle. “I'll have to pay to see you; is that what you're saying?”

I sink back in the chair, my mind worn down with tiredness, fighting sleep. My unfocused gaze drifts to the smooth muscles of his chest and powerful shoulders. It produces an ache between my legs that I should ignore, but it's tempting to indulge.

Geordie looks down to see where my attention has landed. He pushes out of the bed, scooping up a discarded T-shirt on the dresser across the room. I'm still treated to his long legs in shorts and the sight of taut abs as he pulls the shirt to his hips before resuming his place in bed. This time he sits on the edge, his legs dangling off the mattress. “Sorry, I forgot I wasn't decent. Is this what you've come to tell me, that you're leaving?”

“Yes, although I just came to that decision about leaving a few minutes ago, but there are other things you need to know.”

He appears to be bracing himself, waiting for me to continue.

“Have you ever gotten off on the wrong foot with someone you just met? Presented a version of yourself that was different from who you are normally? I feel that's what happened when I met you. I've been trying to right it since the first night we met.”

“You've proved that you're not that evil witch of the kitchen. There's nothing to atone for.”

If I'm to leave here with no regrets, I've got to put this right. “You already know I was a witch because I'd just broken up with Stephen. All men were not high on my list. I hope you know, that I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

“Aye, lass you are absolved of your grievous sins. Go in peace.” He nods with a smirk.

That was the easy part. I bite my lip reluctant to talk about my next topic. “You said earlier you're going the surrogacy route. Have you found someone?”

He becomes guarded when I bring up the subject, but I don't know how to tell him about my plans.

“Yes, I met someone who is considering me.”

“That's great, really great. I hope it works out for you.”

“I hope so too, but why do you ask?”

“Here's the interesting part. I'm working on having a child myself. It was so strange that we're both trying to do the same thing. I thought it would be weird to tell you about my plans. I thought you might think it was another way to get into your good graces about Catriona.”

“It's unusual, but not weird, if it's true. Is that why you were surfing PollenNation?”

“What I told you about Mollyistrue; I was doing research for her. It was later, after she told me she was pregnant, that I decided to have a child on my own. I've posted my profile on PollenNation. It’s also a dating site for people who want to find someone who is serious about starting a family. But seeing someone right after my break-up with Stephen is tough.” I sigh, tired of all the challenges to get what I want. “I've stopped looking for a match; no more love entanglements. I'm working through a sperm bank for potential donors. I just want to have a child alone, with the lease amount of drama.” That last statement comes out more desperate than I intended.

He moves to the very edge of the mattress, face drawn with concern. “I understand your need to have a child, but you were different when we met after our doctor appointments. Did something happen during your visit with the doctor?”

I slide my tongue over my chapped bottom lip, considering. I wanted this audience with Geordie, to have—what did he say in his note?Someone to listen without judgement, so I push on. “After my break-up, I chose to move on with my life, and set a goal to have a child within three years. I thought that would be enough time to find a partner or a co-parent, get pregnant, and have a child. The first thing you do when considering having a baby is to find out if you’re healthy enough to conceive. That’s why I had an appointment with my doctor today.” I drop my gaze to study my hands, not wishing to see his reaction. “He told me my health is good, but because of my age, I'm considering a geriatric pregnancy. He advised me to get pregnant as soon as possible, before it's too late.” Warm tears well up, stinging my eyes. “I did an internet search to find out who invented that term. I couldn't find anyone taking credit.” I exhale, a new wave of anger knotting in my stomach. “Some man must be proud of himself for creating that cruel label; I can't imagine a woman could be that sadistic.”

Geordie is a frozen picture of helplessness witnessing the sight of tears or the threat of a big, sloppy cry.

“No, mo chridhe.” He breathes out the ancient words like an incantation, then holds his arms wide, opening himself to me. “What you need is a wee bit of comfort, aye?”

A rush of panic pushes me to the edge of my seat, ready to leave. What did I expect from a meeting in his bedroom in the dark of night? “I didn't come here to fall into your bed. I came because you promised to listen without judgement.”

He pulls back his grand gesture, his hands falling to his sides. “I can listen, but I'm no priest. You don't need to carry this sadness alone. I can hold you and give you the strength of my body.”

In truth, there's only one person I would go to when life is this low. I'd run to Stephen, but it's not possible to go to him. I stiffen with resolve. “I'm not alone; I have friends.”

“You have many, that's not in doubt, but none are here. It's fallen to me to do what they would do in this moment. So come to me, lass, I'm here offering.” He pushes back onto the bed, pulling a portion of the cover aside as an invitation. “My offer is to hold you, nothing more.”

My sadness launches me to my feet and onto the bed. His body is a big warm blanket of safety as his arms fold me into him. There are no tears, just resting in the comfort of another that washes away doubt, as he transfers to me the strength I lack. He rocks me like a child, cooing words I don't understand, but which provide calm. He calls memo chridheagain, an endearment that meansmy heartin the Gaelic. I suspect the rest, that he mumbles, is random encouragement or a prayer for my well-being. We stay like this for a long time, me silent, holding on, listening to the regular beats of a strong heart. Geordie is a gentle soul, providing his unwavering strength until I drift off to sleep content in his arms.

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