Page 138 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
That got her attention. Her mother stood, and not even the Botox could mask her shock.
“You are?”
“Yes,” she answered, tears coming to her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, you can be a lot. But so can I. You see, I thought that if I didn’t tell you about the pregnancy, it gave me control over the uncontrollable. But I was wrong. Life is a roller coaster—an adventure like inThe Tale of Peter Rabbit. The Gilberts gave me that book and told me you used to read it to me when I was little.”
A sentimental smile pulled at the corners of her mother’s lips. “Your father hated that book. He’d say, ‘what if she wants to be like Peter,’ and I’d answer back, ‘then we should let her.’”
Georgie took a step toward her mom. “You and dad gave me everything I needed to become who I am today. With the books dad left me, I created an imaginary world with my favorite literary characters.”
“Lizzy, Jane, and that poor girl with the unfortunate name that starts with anH,” her mother interjected as Hermione balked.
“You know her name,” Georgie chided.
Lorraine sighed. “Yes, I do. It’s Hermione. I’d hear you talking to them in your room.”
“Do you want to know what you did for me, Mom?” Georgie asked.
“I’m not sure,” her mother replied. “Do I?”
Georgie swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You helped me learn who I am—and who I want to be. All the pageants let me see that I wanted something that was mine and not yours. It gave strength to my convictions.”
Her mother’s twist of a grin was back. “A little rebellion goes a long way. But I do have to say…”
“Yes?”
“I’m still disappointed you weren’t crowned Miss Cherry Pie. That sailor costume was perfect, and your tap skills were top-notch.”
“They still are,” Jordan said under his breath, biting back a dirty grin.
“You’re practicing your tap, pumpkin? I’m so pleased!” Lorraine replied with a little clap.
Georgie shared a look with her very naughty husband.
“Something like that,” she answered when her mother’s expression grew pensive.
“I don’t say this enough, but I’m proud of you, Georgiana. Even though I’d like for you to incorporate more designer pieces into your wardrobe—”
“Mom…” she warned.
“But you’ve made your way in the world, and you’ve done it on your own terms. I don’t say this often because sentimental talk often leads to tears and tears lead to streaked mascara. But I love you very much,” her mother finished, eyes shining.
Georgie leaned in, and mother and daughter embraced in an overdue hug. And despite her mother’s mascara warning, tears trailed down the woman’s cheeks.
The room exploded into applause, and she looked up at her husband. “We’re making another scene, aren’t we?”
“It wouldn’t be us if we didn’t,” he replied, then gestured behind her.
She turned to find that everyone from the shower had come to the country club.
Barry, Becca, Brice, Denny, Maureen, Hector, Bobby, Marjory, Gene, and even the blue-haired knitting brigade had filed into the country club.
“You all came!” she exclaimed, emotion or another contraction welling in her belly.
“We had to see how it turned out,” Gene said, giving her a hug and then turning to embrace her mother.
“Thank you for suggesting we give GeorgieThe Tale of Peter Rabbit,” Marjory said to her mother.
Georgie’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You suggested it?”
