Page 4 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Good old Aunt Flo hadn’t stopped by for a visit.
Yep, she’d missed her last period.
Still, she was a little irregular, like back when she was sixteen. Maybe her cycle was recalibrating.
That had to be it! Her whole body was recalibrating. It probably happened to all women in their late twenties. She’d google it—possibly write an entire blog post about it. She could collaborate with experts in the field to construct an in-depth examination of the subject.
The Great Recalibration of the Female Body!
A jolt of euphoria surged through her, which was quickly tamped down by the blaring bullshit alarm going off inside her brain.
“Are you sure you want to take another test, babe? They’ll probably have you do one at the doctor’s office.”
She’d swiped thirteen boxes into the basket. She might as well make use of all of them.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” she answered, that mix of fear and excitement back, percolating in her chest.
Jordan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Coming right up, messy bun girl,” he answered, then reached for the pregnancy test when her phone, laying on the counter next to it, pinged.
Jordan grabbed the test with one hand and her cell with the other, then sucked in a tight breath.
“It’s your mom.”
Georgie groaned. That was what she needed at this very moment—not!
Dear Universe, you’ve got one heck of a sense of humor!
She slumped forward as her left foot started to go numb from all the toilet sitting.
“I better answer it. If I don’t, she’ll keep calling. She knows we got back late last night.”
He handed her the phone and the box, and she swiped to accept the call before it headed to voicemail.
“Pumpkin, where are you? Is that your cheek?”
Lorraine Vanderdinkle’s voice rang out. But it wasn’t just her mother’s honeyed, moneyed voice coming from her phone. Nope, the woman’s Botox smooth face stared at her from the other side of the screen.
Sweet baby, Jesus! This was not the time for a video call with her mother—while she sat on the toilet, clutching a pregnancy test.
She held the phone in front of her face and plastered on a grin. “I’m right here, Mom. I didn’t realize we were doing a video chat.”
“Look at that tan! Pumpkin, you are glowing! How was Fiji? Anything exciting to report?” the woman purred.
Georgie shared a look with her husband. “It was fantastic—lots of fun in the sun! Your standard beach honeymoon—no more, no less,” she added, then immediately wanted to stuff her mouth with all the Slim Jims she’d bought at the drugstore to block the deluge of game show hostess gobbledygook flowing from her mouth.
Between stuffing her face with pineapple prepared in every way, shape, and form, their time in Fiji was about as X-rated as a honeymoon could get, but she wasn’t about to go there. Nor was she about to drop the bomb that she was possibly pregnant.
“And Jordan? Where’s that husband of yours?” Lorraine pressed.
“He’s right here,” she answered, her plastic grin smashed to her face.
“Well, let me say hello to my son-in-law!”
“Now?”
“Of course, now! What could you be doing other than relaxing after that long flight back to Denver?”
What was she supposed to do? Stand up and reveal her location or stay put and hope her mother didn’t notice the back of the toilet seat? She tapped the object in her hand against her chin.
