Page 71 of Geordie

It's been a few days since I told Geordie I wanted him to be my sperm donor. When he didn't call the next day or the day after that, I figured I screwed up spectacularly again and that his silence was his way of telling me to fuck off. I should have known he would be classier than that. He sends this gorgeous substitute to continue our business relationship, without his involvement. Funny, I'd already decided this morning that he wasn't interested. I'd planned to contact the sperm bank tonight to start the procedure. Connell flashes another perfect smile.

“Okay, I have some time before prep. Have a seat, I'll get you the new menu.”

Connell is funny and knowledgeable. We work through the menu in less than thirty minutes. “I'm going to give you a few other wines to consider.” He writes this on the back of the menu, then turns it around for me to see. He points at what he's written with the pink eraser of the pencil. “They do a really good viognier and a dry Gewirtz that should go well with that chicken dish. They also do a sweet Gewirtz that should go well with this spicy Asian fusion.”

He's written the vintage next to the varietals. “But these aren’t from MacTavish?”

“The wine community is small. We make a point of tasting at other wineries. You might consider carrying these wines as well. If you’d like a guide to their wines, I could escort you to their tasting room. I know the owner and the staff.”

It’s a tempting offer. “When we finalize the menu, I’ll let you know. We’re still thinking of adding two more dishes.”

He stands, adjusting the pouch at his waist. “I'll be going. Call me if you have questions or you would like to go wine tasting.”

That was vague enough to sound like business or a date. “I will. Thank you for your help.” I pull my tunic off the hanger as I watch him exit through the back door and swagger to his truck.

“Chef?”

Tina enters the office, dropping her bags near her desk. “I heard we had a delivery from MacTavish. Did Geordie pay us another visit?”

“No, the winemaker made the delivery.” I turn to catch a glimpse of Connell. Tina comes to stand next to me. “OMG, is that him?”

“Yep.”

She gives a sharp intake of breath. “You know, if I was twenty years younger, he'd be in trouble,” she sighs.

“Tina, don't let that stop you,” I tease as she walks past me to her desk.

“I’ll think about it,” she muses, still watching him.

“Their invoice for the delivery is on your desk… could you send the payment today?”

She pulls her gaze away from the window. “I see the invoice, but there's an envelope underneath it from MacTavish with your name on it.”

I snatch the offered envelope and slide my finger under the flap.

Lily, You're a vexing woman, but we can talk about co-parenting. Come by after your shift. Dinner and a box of Scottish biscuits would be appreciated. G

Chapter thirty-four

Conditions of Possibilities

Geordie

Lilyappearsinaflowy dress of pale blue instead of a white T-shirt and work pants. The scent of freshly washed hair, and the savory aroma of dinner, that breezes through the air as she walks by me into the kitchen. She’s taken care with her appearance. Dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, red lipstick is applied to pouty lips, brown eyes are lined and lashed with black. She sets the meal on the counter, looks at me with a smile, and I’m captivated with her again.

“I’ve been cooped up inside all day working in the restaurant,” dropping the food bag and a box of cookies on the counter. “I’m sure it was the same for you.”

I nod, curious to know where this is leading. “Aye, I could see the outdoors from my window, but there was no time for a walk.”

“I thought a midnight supper on your rooftop garden would be perfect tonight. I saw heat lamps when we were there last. What do you say?”

We find the same alcove, but instead of the skyline in the bright, warm sun, we sit huddled, looking out at a sparkling city, a heat lamp glowing to our right, like our own personal sun.

Lily is swaddled in the folds of my coat. I insisted on this extra warmth before we walked through the gardens. Maybe it’s the idea that we’re going to talk about building our family that has me protective, ready to take care of her and our daughter.

She pulls the sleeves up to her elbows to pull out our meal. “What’s got you so deep in thought?” she asks, pushing a plate toward me.

I nudge her a bit to capture the wine bottle and cork puller from the bag. “I was thinking that we’ve had an unusual start and now we’re discussing starting a family… it doesn’t seem real.”

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