Page 143 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“Jordan, can you believe it? Joyce likes us.”
He couldn’t believe it, but he honestly didn’t give a damn either.
“What is all this Beaver talk?” his dad asked, looking downright mortified.
“I’m the Beaver. Chad Beaver,” the doctor replied, flashing his toothpaste commercial smile.
“Georgie’s lady doctor is named—”
“Dad!” he said, cutting him off. The Beaver talk needed to end.
“Let’s go wait for the ambulance, hun,” Maureen offered, taking his father’s arm.
The pair headed for the entrance as Dr. Beaver moved to the end of the chaise lounge and got down on his knees.
“I’m going to check you, Georgie. Keep breathing.”
Everything seemed to be moving a mile a minute—as if the universe hit the triple fast-forward button.
Lorraine draped a tablecloth over Georgie’s lower half to give her a little privacy. Because, one, they were still smack-dab in the middle of brunch, and two, they’d garnered quite a crowd, and three, Barry was there, capturing footage.
You know, your run-of-the-mill birth for CityBeat’s sweethearts.
“Gustavo assured me that the tablecloths were laundered this morning and are of the highest thread count,” Lorraine said, adjusting the pristine linen.
“Got it. Clean sheet. High thread count,” he replied, kneeling down to be eye to eye with his wife.
“Doctor, do you need anything?” Lorraine asked.
“No, my husband’s gone to the car to get my medical bag. But this baby is coming, and it’s coming fast.”
Georgie’s mom paced back-and-forth. “Can we give my daughter anything for the pain? This is a country club. It’s crawling in valium.”
Dr. Beaver shook his head. “That’s not a safe choice for Georgie. She’s having this baby the old-fashioned way.”
“Jordan,” his wife said, eyes wide with fear as she tightened her grip on his hand.
He rested his hand on her belly. “Hey, messy bun girl. You’re doing great. Just think, we’re about to meet our alien peanut pineapple surprise,” he added, trying to make her smile.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, her voice shaking.
Dr. Beaver looked up and held his wife’s gaze. “The baby’s head is right here. A few good pushes are all you’ll need. I’ll tell you when.”
“Mom,” Georgie said, glancing up at Lorraine.
The woman held up a pool towel. “You’re doing a terrific job, pumpkin. I’ve got this gorgeous Hermes pool towel. The best quality towel available, and it’ll be perfect for swaddling the baby. Oh, and Gustavo said your baby can be a member for life. This is the first country club birth. You’re quite a trendsetter,” she finished as Howard twisted his body into a pretzel shape and chanted a bunch of gibberish in a language he couldn’t recognize.
Georgie turned to him. “I’m still not totally sure this is real.”
“I promise you; it is. You can do this. I’m right here with you,” he answered.
“What if something happens and the baby needs medical care? I can’t imagine there’s a neonatal unit, let alone a scale in this place,” she blurted out, her nerves kicking in.
“We’ve got a scale!” Gustavo called, holding up one of those scales you see in the grocery store.
She glanced around. “How many people are watching me have a baby?”
He looked up. A shit ton of people—but he wasn’t about to say that.
