Page 39 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
6
Jordan
Jordan steadied himself. “We’ve got something to share with you.”
“Some very important news,” Georgie added, squeezing his hand like a vice.
Who knew librarians had such a grip?
He glanced at his wife. She’d whipped out her beauty queen grin—the giveaway she was nervous.
She wasn’t the only one.
“But we want you to know that we love you very much and always will. That will never change,” his wife continued.
Mr. Tuesday, their black and white beloved mixed-breed pup, cocked his head to the side.
Georgie lowered her voice. “This is a lot for him. We’ve only been living together for six months and with the wedding, and then with us being gone the last couple of weeks for our honeymoon, I think he’s confused.”
Who wouldn’t be confused? It was as if the universe decided they were on the relationship Autobahn.
“I think you should tell him, Jordan,” his wife said with a crease between her brows.
“Why me?” he asked through a smile, talking like a ventriloquist. Why? Because he didn’t want to upset the dog. This would have made no sense to him before falling in love with Georgie and her crazy canine. But now, he was a dog dad. And that’s what dog dads do.
“You did do this to me,” she said with a covert gesture to her belly. “You know, planted the seed. Fertilized the garden,” she whispered as Mr. Tuesday’s head cocked to the other side.
“You seemed onboard with thegardening,” he replied cautiously.
“True. I couldn’t get enough of it—the gardening, that is,” she added quickly, her cheeks growing pink with embarrassment.
Did she think Mr. Tuesday had an opinion on their sex life?
Did she not want their dog to know that they’d done the dirty a bazillion times in a tropical paradise and, not to mention, this morning in the shower? They all lived in the same house. In some doggy way, he had to know.
Jesus, this was getting weird.
Let’s get real. The dog had no idea what they were talking about. There was a good chance that the only reason he’d humored them for this long was that he still smelled the four Slim Jims Georgie ate before they’d left for the doctor’s office this morning.
He scratched between the pup’s ears. “All right, Mr. Tuesday, here’s the big news. You’re going to be a big brother.”
“We’re having a baby, and it will look a little bit like this,” Georgie said, holding out the doll Lenny and Stu had given them.
“This is Faby,” he went on, introducing a dog to a doll—something he’d never expected to be doing, but life with Georgie was chock-full of these moments.
“Faby?” his wife questioned.
He tapped the doll’s rubbery nose. “It’s a fake baby—so, Faby. That makes sense, don’t you think?”
Both Georgie and Mr. Tuesday’s heads cocked to the same side.
“Is that a boy name or a girl name?” she asked.
He glanced at the fake baby’s diaper. “Should we look?”
The doll itself appeared quite lifelike with chubby cheeks, a cute button nose, and a cooing little mouth, but looked gender neutral—at least, to him.
“Would that be creepy? What if it’s got a tiny penis,” Georgie said, whispering the p-word part.
