Page 50 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Jordan raised his hands defensively. “It’s not as brutal as it sounds. Hector and Bobby assured us that it’s a friendly competition and more of a learning experience. They’re going to gather footage now before launching the site in July.”
Georgie turned to her pregnant friend and her husband. “That’s why we’re so grateful to have you both. You guys are a trimester ahead of us and can help us out along the way.”
“And let me tell you, we need all the help we can get. That’s why we’ve got this fake baby. It’s all part of the Battle of the Births,” Jordan added, gesturing to the doll.
“And I thought you two were a bunch of superfreaks playing with a doll,” Becca teased.
Georgie chuckled and shifted Faby in her arms, but the reality of their situation was starting to sink in. By this time next year, she and Irene would each have a little one of their own. And until then, they’d be gestating partners in crime, supporting each other through the thick and thin of their pregnancies.
She beamed at her friend, but the wattage on her grin dimmed as she watched Irene and Becca share a pensive glance.
It was probably nothing—a weird sister thing. But her trifecta shook their heads. No, something was up. Lizzy, Jane, and Hermione were never wrong.
Georgie turned up the wattage on her smile and tried to discount her literary trio. “It’ll be great, Irene. We can exercise together and eat all sorts of weird foods. I’m so happy not to be in this pregnancy boat alone.”
Now, Irene shared a look with her husband—the same serious look she’d exchanged with her sister.
Irene stroked her belly. “We can do all that. It’ll just have to be over the phone or video chat.”
Georgie frowned. “Why would we need video chat? We live in the same neighborhood, and you run the bistro a few blocks away? Your little sister manages my bookshop. We hardly ever go a day without seeing each other.”
Irene’s gaze grew misty. “Will and I are moving to Iceland.”
Georgie’s mouth fell open. “Iceland? Like the country?”
Irene gave a teary chuckle. “Yes, that Iceland.”
“Why?” she threw back, wide-eyed as her literary trio matched her expression.
Even her imaginary trifecta was thrown by that info drop.
A warm grin stretched across Irene’s face. “A few months back, my old graduate advisor reached out to me. Funding had run out on a renewable energy research project we were working on back when I was in school, going for my masters in bioenergy. After things dried up with the research, I started taking more shifts at the bistro. One thing led to another, and years passed. I never thought I’d get the chance to finish my degree. But that’s all changed. Now, my advisor’s connected with a university in Iceland and has funding for the next five years. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was going to happen. I got the call last week. The project is good to go.”
“You’ll be in Iceland for five years,” Georgie said on a stunned exhale.
Will took his wife’s hand. “I knew this was huge for Irene, so I asked my boss if I could work remotely, and he agreed.”
“What about your baby? You’re due in March,” Georgie pressed.
This was ridiculous, right? Who picked up and moved to Iceland mid-pregnancy?
Irene gave her belly another loving pat. “People have babies in Iceland, Georgie.”
“I’m…” she began, then paused, taking in her friend’s joyful expression.
Of course, she wanted Irene to follow her dreams and earn her degree.
Would she miss her terribly?
Yes.
Could they make it work with calls and video chats?
They’d have to.
Georgie pushed aside her hopes of double pregnancy bliss with her BFF and reached across the table and squeezed Irene’s hand.
“I’m so happy for you. This is a huge opportunity.”
