Page 55 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“I’m sure glad she likes us. She is one scary lady,” he said, watching the intimidating wedding planner usher the bewildered couple into the building.
“She sure is, but we owe her and Hans,” Georgie answered as another couple entered the warehouse.
He reached across the console, took his wife’s hand into his, then gazed down at her wedding and engagement rings. They shared matching titanium wedding bands, and his chest tightened remembering when Hans shared the story of how, in a marriage, you lived within the confines of the ring. Sometimes, on opposite sides when you disagree, but always able to reunite in the center. He ran his thumb across her knuckles, grateful that Cornelia and her husband had given them the gift of knowing they were meant to be together, despite their rocky ride to the altar.
“I wonder how the dildo guy is doing?” Georgie said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Why don’t you pop over and ask,” he threw back.
Georgie shook her head. “Oh no! When Cornelia is in Denver Wedding Frau mode, nobody is safe.”
He pressed a kiss to her palm as a pair of cars turned into the parking lot. There were already at least a half dozen vehicles parked haphazardly in the large lot. But, with all the industrial buildings, it was hard to tell if every car was here for the Battle of the Births. However, when couples emerged from the vehicles, each carrying a fake baby and a diaper bag, then entered the building, they knew this was the right place.
“It looks like it’s now or never,” Georgie said with the hint of trepidation as she lifted Faby onto her lap.
His wife was right. It was go-time. He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry. But he needed to keep this light and upbeat.
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re going to crush this challenge!”
Georgie held his gaze. “Do you think we’re ready?”
He nodded, forcing his features to remain neutral. “I bet it’ll be like school or Baby 101. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. Sit tight,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure what baby secrets the warehouse held.
He exited the SUV, grabbed the baby bag from the back, then helped his wife out of the car.
“No matter what’s in there, we’re good,” he said, going for the strategy of repeating himself.
Georgie glanced down at Faby.
“Hey, we conquered shit shovels and wilderness boot camp. We can do this,” he added, reaching into his fitness motivation trainer toolbox.
Georgie winced. “I don’t know ifconqueredis the right word.”
“Okay, endured. We endured shit shovels and wilderness boot camp,” he said, amending his statement.
As two decidedly non-outdoorsy types, they’d put up with a hell of a lot more wilderness bullshit than most people experience in a lifetime.
And here’s the thing. They’d only been together for six months. But it was six months jam-packed with just about every emotion on the spectrum. In love years, if those existed like dog years, which they should, they’d be at least a decade in—maybe two—especially after what happened with that alpaca in the middle of freaking nowhere Colorado.
Georgie leaned into him as they walked up to the entrance. “You might also be pushing it withendured, but it’ll have to do.”
Good. She was getting her sense of humor back, and the nervous pageant expression was nowhere to be seen.
“Are you ready?” he asked, reaching for the doorknob.
“I think so. It’s…” She released an audible breath as the hint of the anxious beauty queen expression stretched across her face. “I’m worried about my mom.”
He understood this. Georgie’s mom was great. He loved Lorraine. But she was also a lot.
A hell of a lot.
The errant lock of hair he’d tucked behind her ear had broken free, and he smoothed her chestnut wisps into place. “You know you can tell her at any time, babe.”
“I know. I’m just not ready.”
He tilted her chin and held her gaze. “That’s okay. We only told everyone at the bookshop because I screwed up and blurted it out.”
Georgie stared at the door. “Are we sure about this? The whole Battle of the Births?”
