Page 92 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Georgie pressed her hand to her chest. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you.”
“Not to mention, my wife’s pregnant, too! She’ll get such a kick out of knowing you’re also expecting,” the cop exclaimed, then handed him his phone. “Would you mind taking the picture?”
“Sure,” he answered, lining up the photo of an officer of the law standing next to his wife, who sported wild sex hair with a sailor cap securely pinned to the crown of her head while glinting in the early morning sun.
You know, what they called Thursday morning.
“Smile,” he said, hardly able to believe this was happening. Then again, it was better than getting arrested. He’d gunned the engine back there and was probably speeding.
Still, he should ask Georgie to pinch him once this police encounter ended, just to make sure this wasn’t some expectant father pregnancy delusion. While they’d gotten themselves in plenty of bizarre situations over the course of their relationship, this one has to rank in the top five—no, probably three.
He returned the phone to the officer, and he and Georgie waved as the man got back into his cruiser and started down the street.
Georgie rested her head against his chest. “Jordan, what a mess! All I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep until our little pineapple surprise is done baking.”
“No, Georgie! We can’t go home and sleep. We can salvage this. There’s got to be some time left to get to the hospital. Where’s Faby?”
“In the car,” she answered wearily, then gasped and nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Georgiana, what is it?” he asked, scanning the road for another cop car.
“We left Faby unattended in the car! That’s got to be like one of the worst things you can do!” she said, then sprinted the few steps to the SUV and swung open the car door.
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
Faby glared at them. Maybe it was him, but the fake doll looked pissed off.
“Do you think it’s about to explode?” he asked as the devil baby continued to beep.
“I don’t—” Georgie began as his phone rang.
He pulled his cell from his pocket. “It’s Lenny.”
“Answer it! Put him on speaker,” Georgie directed.
He accepted the call. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Lenny and Stu. Where are you guys? You were supposed to be at the hospital eight minutes ago. Didn’t your infant simulation doll alert go off?”
“It went off,” he answered as Faby stopped beeping.
“Then, where are you? Are you close?” Lenny pressed.
Jordan stared down the block and could still see their bungalow. “No, we’re on our street.”
“You haven’t left yet?” came Stu’s concerned voice.
“We tried to leave, but Jordan forgot something,” Georgie answered, crossing her arms—one very perturbed sexy sailor.
“What did he forget?” Stu asked.
She let out an exhausted sigh. “Me.”
“I see,” Lenny replied as a pregnant pause hung heavy in the air.
“And we got stopped by the cops,” Georgie added, followed by a yawn.
“The police!” the men exclaimed.
