Page 22 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
That was their baby—a real little person with a tiny baby heart.
Jordan crouched, so his head was even with hers, and wrapped his arm around her. They stared at the screen as the grainy image stilled, and a form came into focus.
“Is that alien peanut-looking thing our baby?” he asked.
“It sure is and measuring about the size of a blueberry. Everything looks great,” Dr. Beaver replied.
She stared at the alien peanut. Her alien peanut. Their alien peanut.
“Wow,” she whispered, emotion clogging her throat as pure joy—not the Joyce kind—the real thing, like opening your eyes on an extraterrestrial planet and experiencing an entirely new spectrum of color. An unexplored wonderland. A vast terrain of what-ifs. A million questions bubbling to the surface.
Jordan tightened his grip. “Wow, is right.”
“I’ll take a few pictures for you to put up on the fridge,” the doctor said, continuing the exam.
She nodded, but she wasn’t paying attention to the male model obstetrician between her thighs. This was a new chapter for them. As much as her life had changed in the past five months, finding Jordan, falling in love and getting married, it had been about the two of them. This chapter introduced a whole new plot twist—a plot twist with a little person, half her and half Jordan.
Dr. Beaver removed the probe, and she slid up to sit on the table.
“Oh my!” Dr. Beaver remarked.
Her gaze bounced from the probe to the ultrasound display to the doctor. “Is something wrong?”
“Babe, your gown is open, and you went with a fancy bra!” Jordan said, eyes wide.
She pulled the potato sack around her.
“We mostly see beige around here! Thanks for spicing up my day,” the doc added with a sparkling smile.
This appointment may go down as the most embarrassing day of her life, and perhaps, if she and Jordan could figure out this parenting business, also, as one of the best.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, handing Jordan the printed images. “Take your time and stop by the front desk before you leave. The receptionist will have a bag of pregnancy essentials along with the list of scheduled visits. Again, it’s such a pleasure meeting you both, and Georgiana?”
“Yes?” she answered, starting to think Dr. Beaver was a pretty great guy.
“You’ve got one of the top ten cervixes I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot.”
Maybe great was too strong a word.
Dr. Beaver left the room, and she sank onto the exam table. She stared up at the ceiling, then startled when a warm sensation overtook her belly.
She glanced down and found her husband caressing her abdomen.
“Georgie Jensen-Marks has a perfect ten cervix,” he said with a cocky twist to his lips.
“Stop it,” she said, but there was no bite to her words. It was pretty funny.
“And my super sperm put a baby inside you,” he added.
“How do you know it wasn’t my super egg that gobbled up your sperm?” she countered, unleashing a smirk of her own.
He chuckled as his devilish grin faded. “I love you, messy knocked-up bun girl.”
That sure didn’t roll off the tongue, but she didn’t care.
She slid her hand on top of his. “I guess if you have to gestate a baby, a little Asshattery heir is the way to go.”
“And nice call on the lingerie. I think it earned us some points with the doctor. You know, it’s like wearing your Sunday best, except the underwear version.”
