Page 85 of Geordie

“Right, an attendant will be here with a wheelchair once your discharge is complete. Follow up with your doctor in about a week or sooner if something unusual occurs.”

She vanishes, but we're still staring at where the doctor stood.

“Geordie,” Lily says, “I'd like to talk to Stephen. Could you give us some privacy?”

Chapter forty-one

Odd Man Out

Lily

“I'llbeinthewaiting area,” Geordie says. The glint in his eyes is the only sign of his joy at me carrying his child. The curtain swishes and he's gone, his heavy footsteps thudding down the hall.

Stephen's stoic mask falls, and his shoulders droop as if his body is about to cave in on itself. “Do I even need to ask?”

I exhale the pent-up breath in my lungs. “The baby is Geordie's, if that's what you're asking.”

He moves away, standing at the foot of the bed, jaw tight as he works to control his anger. “You said you weren't dating him. You said we could try to have a child.”

“We're in this place because you said you didn't want a family.”

“Your being pregnant with Geordie's child is my doing?”

“No, I'm pregnant because I moved on. I never said we would try. By the time you made your decision to reverse your vasectomy, I was already making plans to get pregnant.”

“You fell out of love with me that quickly and fell for that asshole in a kilt?”

I fell out of like, respect, and hope, but never love with Stephen; I couldn't if I tried. “Geordie and I were never a couple; we're not dating. Our bond is that we both want a family. We only agreed to be co-parents to this child. I became pregnant by insemination.”

He glances around the small space, processing this information. “I accept that it's my fault for where we are, but this can't be the end. You'll be raising this child like a divorced couple with shared custody. I love you, Lily. Marry me. We can still have the life we planned.”

Stephen's drama and grand gestures are so like him that it's easy to get caught up in his world. There's no doubt we could go on as before with some adjustments. I make room for him to sit beside me on the bed. His weight dimples the mattress, his faint aftershave familiar. I hold his hand; he grasps my palm tight, face hopeful that this will be a happy ending for us. “Loving you, being with you, was the most wonderful adventure of my life. I wanted to be with you forever.”

“Our love is not in the past,” he interrupts. “You love me. I can see it in your eyes.”

I slip my palm out of his grasp. “Love isn't enough. You hid the fact you couldn't have children and never wanted them. You knew this was the one thing I wanted for us. After I left you, within a matter of months, you reversed your decision to have a child?”

“I did it for you, Lily. There's nothing for me if we're not together. It can't be over.”

His plea is heartfelt. I know he means what he's saying, but it doesn't work this time. I have someone else to consider. “I've tried, but my trust in you is gone. You need to hear me this time. No dropping by, no showing up where I am, no sex with exes. It's over, let me go.”

Outside this small enclosure machines ding, footsteps rush by, other conversations from other lives continue as tears well up in our eyes from our shared pain. Stephen is better at keeping his tears contained, while I weep freely.

“He's over there.” I signal to the attendant who's pushing my wheelchair. Geordie stands. The few people in the waiting room are gawking at the man in a kilt as he walks towards us.

“My truck is in the loading zone.” He thumbs at the exit while the three of us troop towards the double doors. As if I'm a fragile package, he bundles me into the warm truck. His brows knit together, watching me pull my seat belt in place. “Do I need to get a special seatbelt?”

I give this new concerned daddy a weak smile. “Right now, this child is probably the size of a pea. Don't worry, we'll figure it out.”

He pulls out of the lot onto the dark street. I nestle into the leather upholstery, take a breath, and watch the dim scenery move by.

“Stay with me, Lily.” He glances in my direction. “At least tonight. I want to take care of you.”

My first thought is to reject his request, but my body needs rest. It's damaged. I've had an emotional breakdown, I'm pregnant and I don't want to be alone. “I'd like that. Let's go home.”

He glances sideways at me.

I realized what I said. “I'm tired,” I say, looking at his hopeful face. “I meant your home.”

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