Page 128 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
That’s right! They’d agreed to provide baby shower footage for the Battle of the Births. But the man wasn’t wrong about the décor.
The children’s area had been transformed into a baby wonderland.
Braided streamers in cream, a soft shade of yellow and light green crisscrossed the ceiling while matching crisp tablecloths lined a buffet table dotted with delicate flower arrangements made of tulips and other flowers. He didn’t know the names of the other flowers because he was a dude. But it looked fantastic.
Becca groaned. “I know! It’s awful. I’d planned a whole creepy baby doll theme to pay homage to Faby, but the party store sent the wrong stuff. By the time I got back here to check on the setup, they were done. I hope you don’t mind.”
He glanced around the space, and while anything sounded better than a creepy fake baby shower, this looked like a baby shower right out of a magazine.
“I’m sure your idea would have been…fun, but this is very nice,” Georgie said, glancing around the room and doing her best not to look too pleased when Brice joined them.
“I told Becca I could run out and buy a bunch of dolls, and we could pop off their heads for decorations.”
“But there was no time,” Becca lamented with an irritated harrumph.
Thank the universe for that!
“Yeah, too bad. A creepy baby shower would have been unique,” he added, sharing a relieved glance with Georgie.
“My goodness! It’s lovely back here!” Marjory Gilbert said as she and the blue-haired knitting brigade made their way into the room with Gene close behind.
“This may be the most gender-neutral I’ve ever felt,” Hector added as he and Bobby trailed in behind the octogenarians.
Becca stood in the center of the room, and Barry maneuvered to get everyone in view.
“Hello, everyone and our CityBeat friends at home,” Becca began, glancing over at Barry. “Welcome to Georgie and Jordan’s baby shower. Please, get something to eat! It’s a complete pineapple spread in honor of Georgie. Pineapple dream cake, pineapple crisps, pineapple cheesecake from that little shop she loves. And pineapple mimosas—but not for you, Ms. Preggo,” Becca added. “I’ve got a pineapple sherbet seltzer concoction for our soon-to-be new mom and those unable to partake in alcohol,” Becca finished, then directed the group toward a table lined with treats.
“Do you want me to make you a plate?” he asked, but Georgie shook her head.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re not hungry?” he asked, eyeing her carefully when a thunderous pounding boomed through the shop.
“Jordan! Jordan! We have a gift for you and Georgie,” Mia and Mya, Maureen’s girls, called, charging into the room like twin bulls.
He handed Faby to his wife as the girls wrapped their arms around his waist, nearly knocking him over.
He looked up to see his father and Maureen enter the room. They waved, then beamed at each other—the lovebirds.
It was like the roles were reversed. Here he was, married and about to become a father. And there was his dad, making goo-goo eyes with his girlfriend. Still, it did his heart good to see his father and Maureen so happy. If two people deserved it, it was the two of them.
“Here’s the present,” Mya said, giggling, as she and Mia exchanged a knowing glance.
“Something is up with you two. Is this a trick present? Will confetti explode into my face when I open it?” he joked, taking the slim rectangular package.
But his teasing expression disappeared when he’d read what they’d written on the gift card.
To our brother and sister-in-law
Georgie glanced at it. “Are you sure this gift is for us, girls?”
“You’re married to Jordan, right?” Mia said, like the cat who ate the canary.
“Yes,” Georgie answered with a dubious lilt.
“Girls, you know I love you like a brother, but I’m not officially your brother,” he said, trying to work this out without hurting their feelings.
Maureen raised her left hand, revealing quite a sparkler on her ring finger. “You’ll be their brother soon,” she said, grinning as the room broke out in applause and congratulations for the newly engaged couple.
