Page 69 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Irene’s gaze traveled off camera. “You can ask him now. He just got home.”
Jordan glanced at his watch. “Isn’t it late in Iceland?”
“It’s never too late forkleina!”
“Kleina?” Georgie repeated.
“Sweetened fried dough. It’s a Nordic dessert, and it’s all this baby wants,” her friend answered as Will appeared on screen and passed his wife the treat.
Irene held the trapezoid-shaped pastry up to the camera, then jammed the whole thing into her mouth.
“Whoa!” Jordan said as Will nodded.
“You are no longer allowed to give me crap for eating while video chatting,” she teased.
Irene grinned and said a garbled goodbye as she reached for another piece of fried dough, then the screen went black.
Jordan leaned against the desk. “They look good.”
“They seem to have things under control,” she replied, going for breezy, but her husband saw through it.
“Hey, we’re getting there. Exhibit A,” he replied and lifted Faby from her lap. “Our fake baby is currently rocking the diaper that I expertly put on her.”
Defining the diaper job asexpert levelwas pushing it. They’d gone through half a dozen disposable diapers, messing up the adhesive tabs before he’d hit the mark. And the cloth diapers? After she’d punctured the poor doll’s leg, they decided they were team disposable all the way.
Georgie stared at Faby, then paused.
“Do you think Faby’s ashe?” Georgie asked, eyeing her husband.
Jordan observed the fake baby. “Or he. Faby transcends gender.”
“We’ll learn the gender of our mini pineapple surprise pretty soon,” she said as a crackle of excitement laced with apprehension rippled through her chest.
“Yeah, the big Battle of the Births reveal is only a few weeks away.”
She nodded, then glanced at the clock. “But first, we have to get through this story time.”
“We’ve got a few minutes before it starts. Did you pick out a book?” he asked. But before she could answer, the video chat pinged.
She waved off her husband. “I’ll tell you in a sec. It’s probably Irene calling back to make me watch her eat anotherklien-whatever. I think it’s payback for the giant slice of cheesecake I ate during our call. My bet is that she wants to exact a little pastry revenge,” she added with a chuckle.
“Georgie, wait—” Jordan exclaimed as she clicked to accept the call.
“Pumpkin?”
Georgie froze, then blinked. This was not Irene. Not even close.
“Is this working?” her mother asked, gaze darting from side to side as she jiggled the phone.
“Yes, it’s working. I’m here. Where are you?” she asked, praying that she and her mother still had an ocean between them.
Her mother frowned. “At the spiritual retreat in India. You know that.”
Georgie plastered on a grin to mask the relief. Thank goodness her mother was still on the other side of the planet.
“I didn’t think you were supposed to use technology. Couldn’t it dampen your psychic abilities?” she threw out, grasping for something.
“It was my psychic voice that compelled me to ask to use my phone, so I could reach out to you,” she replied.
