Page 45 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
7
Georgie
Georgie blinked.
Had she just watched Mr. Tuesday swipe the half-diapered doll and run out the front door?
And had she and Jordan had dirty-girl cowboy sex in front of Faby, their fake baby?
“Georgie, we need to go after him,” Jordan cried, jolting her from her stupefied state.
“Hold on! I need to do a quick clean-up,” she said, maneuvering her body off her husband’s cock, then grabbed a few tissues from the box on the end table. It was one thing to chase after a runaway dog dressed like a slutty farmhand. It was an entirely different bale of hay doing it with you-know-what running down your thighs.
Jordan adjusted his clothing, then plucked his jacket and her cardigan from the wall hooks.
“Here, babe! We need to hurry!” he said, tossing her the garment.
They started for the door when she spotted the diaper bag.
“Do you think we should bring Faby’s stuff?” she asked.
Jordan ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Do you think there’s something in there that Faby will need?”
“I’m not sure what to bring on a mission to save a fake baby from a real dog,” she replied, worry starting to get the best of her.
Her husband paced the length of the living room. “I bet Mr. Tuesday thinks Faby is another chew toy,” he said, then froze.
Wide-eyed, his jaw dropped, and she knew they both just happened upon the same chilling revelation.
They could not show up to the Battle of the Births with a mauled fake baby—or worse than that—no fake baby at all!
What kind of parents lost their fake baby hours after they’d been entrusted with its care?
“We have to save Faby!” she exclaimed.
“We have to!” he repeated, slinging the diaper bag’s strap across his body before taking her hand as they made a mad dash out the front door.
After barely a block, Jordan was ahead with her lagging behind like a tortoise tethered to a cheetah.
Sweet baby chaser! Her husband could run!
She released his hand as they rounded the corner, headed toward the Tennyson neighborhood’s business district.
She gasped for breath and pointed down the street. “Keep running, Jordan! You’re faster! There’s a good chance Mr. Tuesday is headed for the park. You can corner him there.”
Jordan shook his head. “I am not leaving you behind. We’ll run at your pace. It’s safe for you to continue to exercise at the same level you’re used to.”
She stared up at the sky. Streaked in heavenly shades of orange and blue, the dusk Denver nightscape was a sight to see. But soon, this masterpiece of majestic colors would fade into black. Then, not only would they still be searching for a dog and a doll, they’d be doing it in the dark of night.
She shook her head. “No, you have to go! We’ll be losing the light soon, and God knows where he’ll go if we can’t find him and Faby soon. You’re stronger and faster. You need to get to Mr. Tuesday and rescue our fake baby.”
Jordan ran his hands through his hair again, leaving his perfect dark waves curling out this way and that like a toddler with bedhead.
He took her hand, his green eyes brimming with apprehension. “Georgie, please don’t make me choose between my pregnant wife and my fake baby!”
This was complete insanity.
“Okay, we’ll jog together. I’ll try to pick up the pace a bit. Keep an eye out for Mr. Tuesday and Faby!”
