Page 88 of Geordie

“You know you're claiming unfair advantage by being this child's father.”

“I know. It's my duty to protect you both and I will. When do we leave?”

How did I get this lucky to co-parent with him? I'd really like his company on the trip. A wave of emotion is about to hit me, and I give him a grateful nod. “Okay, you can come. I leave the day after Molly's baby shower.”

He grins. “Give me your itinerary and I'll make the arrangements. You can also tell your agency that I'll pick up the tab for our travel, hotels, and food. The three of us are going to have a grand time.”

Chapter forty-two

Morning Sickness

Geordie

Thegreenroom,whichI've never seen one painted that color, has me sandwiched between an up-and-coming pop singer, who is a wee bit fazed that I don't know who she is, and a depressed comedian who I do know. It's good to be back in the UK, where my speech isn't an oddity.

We can see the show on the screens in the room. Lily confidently answers questions with a smile and sometimes an anecdote that only endears herself to the audience.

Lily was right. Being on the book tour is boring as hell, but it can't be as bad as the baby shower I endured for two and a half hours in my apartment, watching the women play games. After Baby Bingo and Guess How Large the Mother-to-be's Belly is, I corralled Eddie, Molly's husband, and a few other men who were dragged to the party, into the kitchen for beers and conversation that reaffirmed our manhood.

Lily warned me that Stephen might show. He wouldn't have gotten upstairs. He wasn't on the guest list with the concierge, and if he came demanding to come to the party, they were to call me and I would take care of him. A confrontation with Stephen would have been preferable to the party, but the baby shower seemed to make Lily and her friends happy. At one point in the party, Lily pulled me away and said she can't wait until it's our turn. I get a warm feeling that in a few months, there will be three in this modern family. At least on a book tour, I have her all to myself when she's not working.

Lily answers another question as the sober comedian leans toward me. “Your wife has good timing,” he says as he points to the screen. “That can't be learned. You either have it or you don't.”

I don't correct him. I tried with the first few people who assumed we were married. People don't like to be corrected, so I let it go.

A woman pokes her head into the room. “You're up next, Mr. Lester.” The man pushes to his feet, looking like the comic I remember. In three steps he's out the door and I'm left with the pop princess eyeing me. I glance up at the screen. The host shuffles his note cards and smiles when he finds the right one. He taps the cards twice on the desk, as if he's decided. “Lily, we haven't seen you with Stephen Dunaway for a long time. In fact, it surprised us to see he attended the opening of his space center with an Italian ingenue by his side.” A picture appears, split screen. Lily tilts her head, staring daggers at the host. I'm on my feet, ready to pull her off the stage. The pop princess is sporting a smirk.

“We've parted ways. I wish him every happiness.”

His eyebrow raises. “Let's hope he wishes the same for you and your new man, Geordie MacTavish, one of the handsome heirs to the MacTavish whiskey empire.”

“I thought I'd seen you before,” chortles the pop singer.

They replaced the picture of Stephen and his new girlfriend with Lily and me outside of a New York restaurant a few days ago. My arm is around her shoulders, shielding her from the cold while I hail a cab. He doesn't give her a chance to respond to the question. He looks into the camera and announces the next guests will be here after a commercial break.

I barrel through the door and onto the sound stage, walking around the equipment while a few people tell me I can't be here. Lily is leaning on the desk, face pink. “My agency said this show was a safe place,” she hisses at him.

The host slides onto his arms, their noses almost touching. “We avoided every subject on your do-not-talk-about list. You or your people failed to list Stephen or Geordie. Look, that little stunt will drive your cookbook sales even higher. If it wasn't for me, you'd be a chef peddling another dreary cookbook. You really should thank me.”

“Is there a problem here?” I ask, looking at Lily's shocked face.

“Please clear the space. We have two minutes left,” someone says from the dim.

“Good interview, Lily, and nice to meet you, Geordie,” the host says. He's waving at someone. In the corner of my eye, the comedian and the singer are walking toward the desk.

“Come, Lily, the car is waiting,” I say, extending my hand.

Lily's attention finally settles on me. Nodding, she allows me to help her up and away. She leans into me as we walk through the halls back to the green room to collect her things. Outside, we're hit by the cold winds. I use my phone to find out where the driver is located. He assures me he's five minutes away. I know I'm shielding Lily from most of the cold, but she shouldn't be out here. “Why don't you stay inside the lobby and I'll get you when the driver arrives. You don't need to be standing out here in the cold.”

She pulls the halves of her coat tighter around her body, her chin buried deep in her wool scarf. “I'm fine. I'd rather be out here with you.”

A black sedan pulls up by the curb and the driver pushes out of the car, opening the rear door. I dispatch Lily into the warm car and breathe a sigh of relief.

The driver throws his arm over the seat, twisting around to look at us. “Where would you like to go?”

I gather her hand in mine, trying to gauge her emotional state; that's been on the edge as her pregnancy advances. She's still rattled by the stunt the host pulled. “Would you like to go out to a late lunch, or we can call it an early dinner? We can see some of the sites–”

“I want to go home.”

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