Page 124 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“My mother knows how to get in touch with me. I’m sure she’s got a new Nicolette by now, who could unlock her phone for her,” she answered, but there was more hurt in her voice than bite as she stared at the meal she’d been eating for breakfast, day in and day out, through her pregnancy and frowned.
“You’re not hungry?” he asked, watching her closely. She’d been a pineapple consuming machine for months. She usually drained a glass in seconds. You’d think she’d just rolled in from a stint on the Sahara.
“I’m not feeling so much like pineapple today,” she said as her gaze slid to the chocolate protein drink in his hand.
He held out the shake. “Do you want this?”
“Yeah? Is that weird?” she asked, taking his protein drink, then chugging down half of it in under ten seconds.
“Protein is a good energy source and great for the baby,” he replied to the spirit of the frat boy who decided to invade his wife’s body.
“Perfect! I was thinking of knocking out a quick 10K run this morning,” she teased, wiping away her chocolate mustache.
“You are one pregnant badass. I’ll give you that, MBG. But, at your race pace, I think the baby would be born before you made it one kilometer.”
She took another sip, then gave him a healthy dose of side-eye. “You better watch it, mister. All these hormones might make me supersonic fast or Superwoman strong.”
He glanced at his phone. “Well, Ms. Supersonic, we don’t have a whole lot of time before we need to head over to the bookshop for—” he paused.
“The baby shower,” she supplied flatly, her gaze trained on a spot on the wall.
Yeah, today might be a tough one.
They’d decided not to follow convention—imagine that—and settled on having a joint baby shower, men included, with their close friends and family. Becca, citing the fact that she was unable to throw her sister a proper shower, had designated herself, and Brice, as the lead party planners.
What could possibly go wrong with those two in charge?
Still, it was the least of his concerns.
“Did your mom even RSVP? I know Becca invited her,” he asked, treading lightly.
The last thing he wanted to do was upset his wife. But it was a coin toss when it came to her reaction regarding her mom. Sometimes, she wanted her mom to show up to the shower, and then she’d change her mind and say that she wanted her to stay away. Other times, she wanted her mom towantto show up, and then not show up—but then decide to show up anyway.
This mother-daughter business was thorny stuff.
He and his father had been estranged for many years after his mother passed. But all it took to get them back on track was Georgie, charming the pants off his dad, and a Michael Bolton ballad.
“Oh yes, Lorraine Vanderdinkle is always one to RSVP,” she answered, injecting a thread of mock-haughtiness into her reply.
“And?”
Georgie made a flippant flick of her wrist. “And she’s unable to attend due to a brunch commitment.”
He frowned. She couldn’t be serious.
“A brunch commitment?” he pressed.
“At the country club, of course. She wouldn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance of the Denver elite brunch dynamic now that she’s back. I’m sure Gustavo has her table all ready,” she said, back to mock-haughty. But even her terrific impression of a deranged socialite couldn’t hide the disappointment he saw as plain as day in her eyes.
It had been a rough last couple of weeks. Being pregnant has its emotional ups and downs. Being pregnant and balancing a damaged mother-daughter dynamic had taken a toll on his wife. He’d reached out to Howard, aka Wandering River, to try to orchestrate a reunion, but the man was still in full-on yogi mode and spoke entirely in metaphors for their entire conversation.
He’d said that Lorraine was a rock, wanting to roll but stuck in the moss.
Like mother, like daughter.
“I told Howard about the shower,” he said, coming to sit with her at the table.
“When?”
