It had been a rough last couple of weeks. Being pregnant has its emotional ups and downs. Being pregnant and balancing a damaged mother-daughter dynamic had taken a toll on his wife. He’d reached out to Howard, aka Wandering River, to try to orchestrate a reunion, but the man was still in full-on yogi mode and spoke entirely in metaphors for their entire conversation.
He’d said that Lorraine was a rock, wanting to roll but stuck in the moss.
Like mother, like daughter.
“I told Howard about the shower,” he said, coming to sit with her at the table.
“When?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He wished us every blessing and suggested the next time it rains, we dance naked under the storm clouds and pay homage to the showers that nourish the planet.”
She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. “Do we have the strangest life ever?”
He rubbed her arm, then touched the charm bracelet, gazing at the little shit shovel.
“Yes, we’re probably in contention for the couple living the strangest life ever. What do you think, Faby?” he said, turning to the baby doll seated in the center of the table.
They may have failed every Battle of the Births challenge, but they’d done a damn good job keeping track of that fake baby.
Georgie opened her eyes and chuckled. “We should probably add a Faby charm,” she said, brushing her fingers over the bracelet. “And thank God you got me a bracelet and not an anklet. Look at my ankles! Wait, I can’t even see them,” she added, trying to get a glimpse over her belly.
What she didn’t know was that he’d already ordered not one but two surprise charms.
He took her feet into his lap and massaged her arches. “Your ankles look all right to me.”
“Good, because last time I could see them, it wasn’t pretty,” she replied, then blew out a tight breath. “How about we walk to the bookshop?”
He wasn’t expecting that.
“Are you up for it?”
“I think it would do me good,” she replied, then sucked in a tight breath.
“Are you having another Stevie Nicks?” he asked, feeling his heart rate kick up.
“Braxton Hicks, you giant asshat,” she replied, half laughing half trying to breathe through what joyless Joyce had explained were practice contractions that Georgie needed to “put on her big girl panties and tough out.”
Ah, Joyce! The answer to the question, name something that doesn’t grow sweeter over time.
“I think it’s over,” she said, relaxing into the chair.
“Are you sure you want to walk to the shop today?”
She nodded. “It’s not that far, and I’d like some air.”
“All right, team! We’re walking!” he announced to their dog and fake baby.
He helped his wife to her feet, corralled and leashed the dog who had started running insane loops around his legs at the mention of a walk, then scooped up their baby doll.
Perhaps Georgie was right. They really were a bunch of freaks.
“Oh, Birkenstocks! You’ve never failed me,” she said on a dreamy exhale as she slid on her sandals, and they headed out the door.
He took her hand as they strolled at a pregnant snail’s pace down the street toward the shop.
“Do you remember chasing Mr. Tuesday when he snagged Faby and made a break for it?” he asked.
“Do I remember? That was the fastest I’ve ever run. And I was eight weeks pregnant at the time.”
He glanced at her. “Back then, it seemed like we had all this time before we were going to become parents, and now, here we are.”
“Here we are,” she repeated with a pat to her belly.
They turned the corner, and Georgie hummed a sweet sound.
“What?”
“The park,” she answered.
The location of their not-so-cute meet-cute when he was all about being a perfect ten asshat.
“I can picture you in that awful cardigan, chasing Mr. Tuesday and calling after him like a lunatic,” he said, egging her on a touch.
“Oh, come on. You know that’s when you fell in love with me,” she teased, but she wasn’t far off the mark.
From the moment this sassy woman anointed him the Emperor of Asshattery, he was a goner.
“I think that’s when you fell in love with me,” he said, making sure to sound as asshattish as possible.
She barked out a laugh.
“Maybe not at that exact moment,” he conceded.
She glanced up and caught his eye. “But it wasn’t too long after.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they continued down the street in silence, Mr. Tuesday padding along beside them. The memories of their relationship flashed through his mind like one of those old slide projectors.
Click.
First image: Georgie staring him down with those flashing, blue-green eyes, demanding he help her catch her dog.
Click.
Georgie standing in the produce aisle, ruining cucumbers for Save the Whales Steve.
Click.
Georgie staying by his side, smiling up at him as he overcame his baby goat phobia.
Click.
Georgie in her wedding dress.
Click.
Georgie rocking baby Ollie to sleep.
Click.
Georgie with sex hair, pressing her hands to his chest and riding his hard length as their souls intertwined.
“Hey? Earth to Jordan. Come in, Jordan?” she said, gazing up at him with a creased brow.
“Slide projector sex hair,” he blurted, for what reason, he didn’t know. He was pretty damn sure slide projector sex hair never was, nor would it ever be, the response to any reasonable question.
She gestured with her chin. “We’re here.”
He blinked a few times and focused on the bookshop entrance.
“Were you having a man-pregnancy delusion?” she asked.
“More like a man-pregnancy delusion oasis filled with a bunch of hot Georgies.”
“That’s a new one! I was thinking about you in your cowboy chaps,” she confessed with a devious grin.
“At least we’re on the same creepy wavelength for thoughts one has before a baby shower.”
He opened the door to the shop, smelling the familiar sweet scent of hardback books and freshly baked muffins, then spied Talya and Simon at the register, making googly eyes at each other.
Despite being head over heels and epically into one another, they were hardworking kids, and Georgie had hired them on for the summer.
“How are sales?” he asked as the teens blushed and straightened up.
“Epic sales,” Talya answered as Mr. Tuesday ran behind the counter to curl up in his dog bed.
Simon nodded. “Totally epic! This is the first lull we’ve had all morning.”
Talya pointed toward the children’s area. “Becca said to send you back when you got here. We can keep Mr. Tuesday with us.”
“But first, we had something made for the baby,” Simon added.
“You didn’t have to get us anything,” Georgie said, but Simon’s grin only got bigger.
“We wanted to, and it’s also from my grandma. She actually came up with the idea.”
“Here,” Talya said, passing a small gift bag across the counter.