Lorraine draped a tablecloth over Georgie’s lower half to give her a little privacy. Because, one, they were still smack-dab in the middle of brunch, and two, they’d garnered quite a crowd, and three, Barry was there, capturing footage.
You know, your run-of-the-mill birth for CityBeat’s sweethearts.
“Gustavo assured me that the tablecloths were laundered this morning and are of the highest thread count,” Lorraine said, adjusting the pristine linen.
“Got it. Clean sheet. High thread count,” he replied, kneeling down to be eye to eye with his wife.
“Doctor, do you need anything?” Lorraine asked.
“No, my husband’s gone to the car to get my medical bag. But this baby is coming, and it’s coming fast.”
Georgie’s mom paced back-and-forth. “Can we give my daughter anything for the pain? This is a country club. It’s crawling in valium.”
Dr. Beaver shook his head. “That’s not a safe choice for Georgie. She’s having this baby the old-fashioned way.”
“Jordan,” his wife said, eyes wide with fear as she tightened her grip on his hand.
He rested his hand on her belly. “Hey, messy bun girl. You’re doing great. Just think, we’re about to meet our alien peanut pineapple surprise,” he added, trying to make her smile.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, her voice shaking.
Dr. Beaver looked up and held his wife’s gaze. “The baby’s head is right here. A few good pushes are all you’ll need. I’ll tell you when.”
“Mom,” Georgie said, glancing up at Lorraine.
The woman held up a pool towel. “You’re doing a terrific job, pumpkin. I’ve got this gorgeous Hermes pool towel. The best quality towel available, and it’ll be perfect for swaddling the baby. Oh, and Gustavo said your baby can be a member for life. This is the first country club birth. You’re quite a trendsetter,” she finished as Howard twisted his body into a pretzel shape and chanted a bunch of gibberish in a language he couldn’t recognize.
Georgie turned to him. “I’m still not totally sure this is real.”
“I promise you; it is. You can do this. I’m right here with you,” he answered.
“What if something happens and the baby needs medical care? I can’t imagine there’s a neonatal unit, let alone a scale in this place,” she blurted out, her nerves kicking in.
“We’ve got a scale!” Gustavo called, holding up one of those scales you see in the grocery store.
She glanced around. “How many people are watching me have a baby?”
He looked up. A shit ton of people—but he wasn’t about to say that.
She needed a distraction.
“I want to show you something,” he said, then pulled a small envelope from his pocket.
“What is it?”
“An addition to your bracelet.”
She gave him the hint of a grin. “Let me guess. It’s a pineapple.”
“One of them is. The other is this,” he replied and held out a delicate infinity charm. “Because we’re more than just a number.”
“Infinity isn’t a number. It’s a concept,” she said, still able to take him to task, even in labor.
He hooked the charms onto the bracelet. “You’re right. It’s the quantity larger than any number, and that’s how much I love you and how much I’m going to love this baby. Our baby.”
He leaned in, and Georgie rested her forehead against his.
“Thank you for being my messy bun girl and for making me a better man. You’re my whole life, Georgiana. You are the sassy eight to my asshat ten, and together, there’s nothing we can’t do.”
“I needed that,” she said, relaxing a fraction.
He listened as she took two deep breaths as if her body were preparing for the final push. As a trainer, he’d worked his body to the max and could sense Georgie’s body responding as instinct and biology prepared to take over, ready for the endgame.
The all-or-nothing moment—where nothing wasn’t an option.
He lifted her chin. “Look at me and focus on my voice.”
She held his gaze.
“Today, when we walked to the shop, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and our life.”
“Goats and alpacas and spiders, oh my,” she bit out through another contraction.
She was even funny in labor.
“I never dreamed of finding someone like you, Georgiana Jensen.”
“That’s because you were following your flawed Marks Perfect Ten Asshat Mindset,” she replied on a tight breath.
He brushed a sweat-soaked lock of hair from her forehead. “All I know is that the minute you came into my life, I knew I would never be the same. Do you know how tough you are? Do you know what a hard-ass you were when we first met?”
“I was actually a nice person until I met you,” she teased through tight breaths.
He gave her a cocky smirk. “I bring out the best in people.”
She blew out a ragged breath. “Jordan, I’m scared.”
He was, too. But, right now, it was his job to be her rock.
He held her gaze. “You can do this, Georgie.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You’re the strongest person I know, MBG. And don’t forget.”
She blew out a breath. “Forget what?”
“There’s nothing we can’t conquer together—nothing we can’t get through. Well, maybe not a virtual reality baby simulation. But besides that, we’ve got this. The baby, you, and me. We’ve got this.”
Dr. Beaver patted Georgie’s leg. “All right, Georgie, we’re going to countdown from ten, and then I want you to give me a big push.”
“Can we count from eight?” she asked.
“Um…sure. The number is arbitrary,” the doctor replied, a little confused.
“It’s not arbitrary to me and Jordan, is it?” she answered, turning to him.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Georgiana Jensen, owning the eights even while giving birth.”
“Okay, here we go. Start counting. After this contraction, you’re going to push,” Dr. Beaver instructed.
Jordan held his wife’s gaze.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Big push, Georgie!”
Georgie squeezed his hand, bearing down. He watched his wife in utter amazement as the image of a little girl flashed in his mind. Bubbling with sunshine, skinned knees, and a read-one-more-chapter-daddy smile, this mini Georgie gazed up at him with blue-green eyes.
He blinked, then focused on his wife as she gritted her teeth.
Dr. Beaver glanced up. “Keep going, Georgie. The head’s out. One more push, and you’ll get to meet your baby.”
Georgie fell back, breathless. “Next time, we’re doing this at a hospital, and I’m getting all the drugs.”
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Deal—all the drugs. But you can do this, babe. Think of it as the final mile of a 5K where we get to meet our little girl at the finish line.”
She stared at him. “You think it’s a girl?”