Page 13 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“Yeah, the best teachers in Denver are booked way before six weeks.”
“Like five weeks?” he queried, unable to believe the insane timeline parents needed to follow to give a kid a hobby these days.
How muchpre-prenatal prep was required?
The man lowered his voice. “Try, four.”
Jordan reared back, bumping a flurry of board books off an end table. “Holy sh—”
“Whoa!” the dads said in unison, graciously cutting off his expletive.
Oh, f!
He and Georgie would have to crack down on their language, too, or else they might have a kid whose first word would be asshat or douche canoe.
Douche canoe was two words—but he and Georgie were relatively smart people. They’d probably have a smart kid who could manage it.
Jesus! Wait…goodness! What was wrong with him? He had to weed these words out of his vocabulary.
He reached down to pick up the books when the nose-picker kid—who was going places—grabbed the book in his hand.
“Hey, buddy! I was cleaning those up.” He released the book and allowed the child to take it.
The little cherub stared at him with wide blue eyes. What color eyes would their baby have? His were sage green, and Georgie’s were a gorgeous shade of bluish-green. There was a chance their baby would look up at him with inquisitive blue eyes like this. He cocked his head to the side and stared at the boy, all rosy cheeks and dark curls. When the toddler wasn’t digging for gold up his nostrils, the kid was kind of cute. He smiled at the child, feeling damned, no,darnedgood about this father business when the boy held the book above his head.
“Are you going to show me the book?” he asked, channeling Mr. Rogers.
He could do this. Kids liked him. This kid liked him. That had to mean something.
The little boy grinned up at him, then shook his head as a maniacal twinkle glinted in his baby-blues.
“You’re not?” he asked as a thread of trepidation wove its way through his chest.
With a grin akin to that of a mad scientist, the child reared back, then used every ounce of NFL baby training to whack him clean in the eye, wielding the board book with the agility of a tiny major league baseball player, swinging for the fences.
“Holy hard as hell board book!” he blurted, unable to stop himself, but not before losing his balance and falling to the floor. Thankfully, he was able to keep himself from clobbering the little boy by twisting his torso and tweaking his back in the process.
He pushed up onto his knees, then massaged a sharp kink in his neck as his eyeball throbbed. His half-blurry gaze darted between the now crying blue-eyed toddler, afraid of the giant man almost flattening him into a pancake as the dads sat motionless, staring at him with expressions of horror.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect—” he began when a woman’s stern voice cut him off.
“I’m looking for Mr. Marks.”
He glanced up to find a nurse with a deep crease between her eyebrows and thin, pursed lips. Swap out the scrubs for a corset and a Victorian gown with a high, lace-trimmed neckline, and this lady would be a dead ringer for a harsh headmistress in a period piece.
He’d have to tell Georgie about her—once they were far, far away from this place.
He raised his hand like a kindergartener. “That’s me. I’m Jordan Marks.”
“I’m here to bring you back. Are you ready?” she asked with a disapproving gaze, taking in the crying child and the look of shock on every face in the waiting room.
Was he ready?
Now, that was the question.
He thought he was ready—figured a few physiology classes in college and a working knowledge of pregnancy had put him ahead of the curve when it came to this baby business. He let out a tight breath, then glanced up and caught a glimpse of the little girl, no longer sucking her thumb. Instead, the child stuck her tongue out at him, giving him the toddler equivalent of go fuck yourself.
With his back aching and his eye pounding, he rose to his feet like a defeated gladiator.
What the hell had he and Georgie gotten themselves into?
He stepped over the crying child, nodded to the speechless fathers, then hobbled toward the nurse.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, praying that this would be his lowest moment of the whole pregnancy journey. Unfortunately, a nagging little voice in his head told him this was just the beginning.
