“Hey there! The babysitters aren’t supposed to start making out until after the baby falls asleep,” Becca said with her signature smart-ass smirk as Brice stood beside her with great hair.
Honestly, it was impossible not to notice.
Okay, that was weird.
He shook off the great hair thought, got out of the car, then went to Georgie’s side to help her and Faby out.
“What are you guys doing here?” Georgie asked, shifting Faby to her other arm.
“Since Becca and I aren’t watching my nephew, my sister suggested we join her and my brother-in-law for dinner,” Brice answered.
“What does your sister do?” Georgie asked as the foursome plus Faby made their way up the path through a manicured front yard toward a charming ranch-style home.
“She’s a doctor.”
“No, I’m serious, Brice,” Georgie replied with a chuckle.
“Yeah, so am I. Both my sister and my brother-in-law are doctors.”
“Oh, okay,” Georgie answered with a sheepish expression.
His wife immediately caught his eye and gave him wife eyes for can-you-believe-that. He shrugged and gave her husband eyes for that’s-crazy-I-never-imagined-any-sister-of-Brice-Casey-would-be-allowed-to-prescribe-medicine-for-actual-human-beings.
It was a lot to convey with eyeballs, but when she gave a slight nod, he knew she’d gotten the gist.
Brice opened the front door. “Hey, Beavers! We’re here!” he called.
Beavers?
Well, their family did own a pest control business. He was about to eyeball say this to Georgie when his wife gasped. He followed her gaze and couldn’t believe his eyes.
12
Georgie
“Dr. Beaver?” Georgie exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“Thanks for agreeing to watch Oliver,” the man replied, advancing toward them from the back of the house.
“You’re married to Brice’s sister?” she asked.
“I am.”
She stared at her obstetrician. He wasn’t in his doctor’s coat or wearing a lamp on his head, investigating her lady parts. But here, in Brice Casey’s sister’s house, stood Dr. Beaver. A man who had told her point-blank that he had a husband and two children.
“Are you leading a double life?” she pressed.
“Georgie,” Jordan said under his breath, gesturing to a table dotted with framed photos, but she waved him off.
Dr. Beaver frowned. “I’m not sure that I’m following you.”
She shifted Faby to the crook of her arm and pressed her hand to her chest. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Georgie,” Jordan tried again, but she shook her head.
She could barely believe that they’d walked in on the type of situation usually reserved for works of fiction.
A man leading a double life.
Two families who never knew the other existed.
She thought of Dr. Beaver’s husband—a man she’d never met but was sure he didn’t deserve this. And what about the kids! Those poor kids. She didn’t know a damn thing about them either, but they sure didn’t deserve a two-timing, sneaky gynecologist for a father.
Despite her trifecta holding up signs with the words stop talking written in bold fictional letters, Georgie couldn’t stop herself.
She narrowed her gaze and lowered her voice. “How do you do it? Do you go back and forth like a thief in the night? Does your wife know? Does your husband know?”
Becca cocked her head to the side. “Georgie, what are you talking about? Are you feeling all right? Is this some weird pregnancy delusion? Because you sound a little cuckoo.”
Georgie glanced around the group, then held her doctor’s gaze. “I’m Georgiana Jensen-Marks, and this is my husband, Jordan Marks. We saw you a few weeks ago for a check-up. You complimented my lady parts. You said I had a lovely uterus and a splendid cervix. Don’t you remember? Or do you have so many secrets to keep that you can’t even remember what you tell your patients—even the ones with great cervixes?”
She frowned at the sound of the word. “Or is it cervi like the plural of cactus is cacti?” She shook her head. “I don’t know the plural of cervix, but you better believe that I’m going to find out.”
She could feel her pregnancy hormones mixing with adrenaline. She was two-parts Wonder Woman and one-part mini pineapple gestater. A pregnant PI! What a discovery! What a baffling coincidence!
She turned to her husband. “How does he not recognize us?”
Jordan bit back a grin. “Because he’s not your doctor.”
What the hell was going on here? Was this some weird twilight zone pregnancy hallucination?
Just then, a woman holding a baby came toward them, sporting a wide grin. “Honey, you have got to tell your brother about this.”
Georgie inspected Dr. Beaver again, taking in his chiseled cheekbones and his camera-ready pearly white smile.
This had to be her doctor.
“You’re his wife?” she asked, and instantly, her heart went out to the new mother.
How would she break the news of her husband’s betrayal? It was better to tell her, right? Better to rip the bandage off quickly and get it out there. She parted her lips to speak, but Brice’s sister spoke first.
“I’m Briana Casey-Beaver, and this is my husband, Thad.”
Heat rose to Georgie’s cheeks. “Thad. Like T-H-A-D?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure it’s not Chad. C-H-A-D?” she questioned.
“My name is Thad, and the plural or cervix is cervixes,” the man—this so-called Thad—answered.
“A-ha!” she cried, pointing at the guy. “See, you are an ob-gyn!”
Thad’s brows drew together. “Because I know the plural form of cervix?”
Brice raised his hand. “I know that one, too. C-E-R-V-I-X-E-S. Cervixes!” he replied as if he were in a spelling bee.
Georgie’s gaze danced between the adults and the baby, all staring at her like she was a lunatic—which, she just might be.
Was she having a moment? Was she losing her mind? And to make matters worse, she was totally craving a giant glass of pineapple juice. The mixed signals coming from her pregnancy brain were enough to make her head explode.
“You must be a patient of my husband’s twin brother. He and his husband moved to Denver with their kids recently,” Briana said, gesturing to a photo on the foyer table with two remarkably similar-looking men dressed in tennis whites.
Twin brothers.
And then it hit her. While clutching a baby doll inside a stranger’s home, she’d accused a man of leading a double life in front of his wife and child. She took a woozy step back.
“Are you all right? Would you like to sit down?” the doctor, who’d never examined her cervix, asked gently.
She steadied herself, then stilled, paralyzed by mortification, and closed her eyes.
Jordan rubbed her back. “Maybe you should sit.”
She shook her head. “Give me a second. I’m hoping the ground will swallow me up, but that doesn’t seem to be happening,” she replied with a wince of a smile before opening her eyes to find that, yes, she’d gone full-on prego-cray-cray in a private residence owned by people she’d never met before.
Her trifecta threw up their hands and shook their fictional heads. She couldn’t fault them. They’d tried to stop her.
Georgie turned to the doctors. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Briana shared a look with her husband, then chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. I think an overactive imagination is a symptom of pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Ollie, I had the most vivid dreams.”
“And don’t forget the grocery store incident,” Thad said, tossing his wife a wink.
Briana’s cheeks grew rosy. “Oh, yes, the grocery store.”
“What happened at the grocery store?” Georgie asked, grateful she wasn’t the only one who’d had an embarrassing pregnancy momen
t.
Briana shifted the baby in her arms. “I thought there was a conspiracy to hide the tapioca pudding. I craved the stuff like a maniac when I was pregnant, and they always seemed to be out when we were there to shop. Well, one afternoon, the store had been sold out one time too many for my liking, and I went toe to toe with the poor dairy manager, accusing him of treacherous tapioca trickery.”
Thad nodded. “It’s true. My neurosurgeon wife is now known as the treacherous tapioca trickster in the market’s dairy department. And her reputation seems to have spread. They watch her like a hawk in the deli. It’s only a matter of time before they hear about her in the meat and seafood section,” the man teased.
Becca glanced at her watch. “Speaking of time, Brice and I should head over to the restaurant to make sure we don’t miss our reservation, especially since we’re celebrating Thad’s last night.”
Georgie’s gaze zeroed-in on Thad. “You’re leaving?”
He put up his hands in mock-defense. “I am. But I promise. It’s not to go visit a secret family. Briana and I both work with Doctors Without Borders. But now that we have Ollie, I’ll be going alone this time.”
“How long will you be gone?” Jordan asked.
“I’m headed to Central America for eight weeks.”
“Putting brains back together. That’s my brother-in-law,” Brice chimed, slapping the man on the shoulder.
Becca took her boyfriend’s hand. “Briana and Thad, we’ll meet you at the restaurant. Georgie,” her friend added, turning a pointed gaze her way.
“Yes.”
“Are you good on the pregnant lady freak-out front? You’re not about to accuse the neighbors of running an illegal gambling ring, are you?” her friend asked, but the woman was holding back a grin.
“There will be no more accusations tonight. Cross my heart,” she answered, knowing that once Becca mentioned this to her sister, she’d never live it down.
Still, in her defense, how many pregnant women have run into their handsome obstetrician’s identical twin brother? It couldn’t be that common.
While Brice and Becca said their goodbyes to baby Oliver, she leaned in toward her husband and lowered her voice.
“You should have stopped me from acting like a pregnant police interrogator.”
“I tried, babe. You were on quite a tear. If the bookshop and blogging thing ever get boring, you should apply to work for the real FBI. That was quite a shakedown,” he whispered back with that cocky smirk of his.
She was about to tell her beloved asshat that he was going to receive quite a shakedown as soon as they got home when Briana closed the door behind Becca and Brice and turned to them.
“Let’s head back to the kitchen.”
“Thanks for not kicking us out,” Jordan said.
Georgie nodded. “Yes, thank you. And I promise. I’m not a crazy lady. I’m sure that’s what crazy people say, but I can tell you, I’m not,” she added, then cringed.
Honestly, she needed to travel with a roll of duct tape—or maybe a big can of pineapple chunks. If she were eating, that sure would have stopped her from talking.
Thad waved for them to follow him down the hall. “It’s not every day that we get a guest, armed with a doll, accusing me of leading a double life. I can’t wait to tell my brother. He’ll get such a kick out of this,” the man said over his shoulder as they entered the spacious kitchen.
Georgie glanced at Faby and felt her cheeks heat. “For the record, the doll is for a baby prep class Jordan and I are taking. But it’s not half as cute as your little one,” she added, waving at the child in Briana’s arms.
“In all the commotion, I forgot to introduce you to Oliver,” Briana replied, then snuggled the sweet boy, who sported quite a lovely head of baby hair.
Good hair must be in the Casey genes.
“He’s beautiful,” Georgie answered, watching the boy take in the world with inquisitive blue eyes.
She hadn’t spent much time with infants—ever. Families with little ones came into her shop, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d held a real baby.
The little boy reached out, and without thinking, she supplied her finger. The baby squealed with delight, then flashed a toothless grin before making raspberry lips at her.
“Look, he already likes you, Georgie,” Briana cooed.
“We appreciate you volunteering to watch Ollie. Becca and Brice had offered to babysit. It’s so nice that they’ll be able to join us tonight,” Thad said, pulling out an empty baby bottle from the cabinet.
“We’re going to miss Daddy, aren’t we, Ollie? But Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Brice will help us out,” Briana said, making a silly face at the baby.
“That’s great that you’ve got your family close by to help,” Jordan replied.
“How about you guys? Do you have relatives in town?” Briana asked as the baby reached for Thad, and she passed the sweet tot over to his father.
“We do,” Jordan answered.
“It’s a lifesaver when you have a little one. That’s for sure. Especially with me going back to work,” Briana offered as she took over bottle duty.
Georgie nodded as a pang of guilt settled in her chest. When would she tell her mother? She had no idea. No time ever seemed to be the right time.
“Do you mind me asking how far along you are?” Briana asked.
Georgie caressed her little bump. “A couple days shy of eighteen weeks.”
“That’s when I was itching to tell everyone I was pregnant and not some wild woman downing pints of tapioca pudding.”
Georgie switched Faby to her other arm. “When did you share your pregnancy news?”
“A little after I was twenty-two weeks along. After the ultrasound where we found out the gender and learned this sweet boy was on his way,” Briana answered, tapping the tip of her baby’s nose.
Georgie shared a glance with her husband. “You did? You waited that long?”
Briana blew out a tight breath. “We did. My family is great, but they can go a little overboard. I’m not sure if you can relate.”
“I can,” Georgie replied, and the worry she’d been carrying from the moment the first set of pink lines appeared waned a fraction.
Perhaps she wasn’t a terrible person for keeping her mom out of the pregnancy loop.
Briana opened a canister printed with a baby’s face, then frowned. “Thad, we’ll need to pick up some more formula on the way home tonight. We have just enough to make one more bottle.” She turned to them and sighed. “We’re constantly forgetting to buy baby formula at the grocery store. With me going back to work, we switched from breast milk a couple of weeks ago,” she finished, filling the bottle with water, then adding the last of the formula powder.
“Have you started him on solids yet?” Jordan asked, and Georgie’s ears perked up.
Someone has been doing a little late-night baby research.
“We’ve introduced a little bit of rice cereal,” Thad answered.
Jordan nodded, then shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Have you signed Oliver up for the baby NFL?”
Thad and Briana stared at her husband.
“There’s a football league for babies?” Thad questioned.
Jordan shook his head. “No, it’s not a baby football league. It’s something I’d heard a few dads talking about.”
The doctors nodded warily, but her husband didn’t seem to notice their perplexed expressions and pressed on.
“Have you looked into trumpet lessons or having your son play the viola?” he continued, and ding, ding, ding! Her little double life outburst was starting to look a lot less crazy.
At least she wasn’t the only one who would make a fool of themselves tonight.
Thad glanced at his son. “Oliver’s not even able to use a spoon. How would he hold a bow or manage a trumpet?”
“Great point!” Jordan replied, clearly going for nonchalance but tanking. “I’d heard a few things, here
and there, when it came to raising a well-rounded child.”
“We’re going to let Ollie be a baby,” Thad answered.
Jordan gave an exaggerated nod. “Right! Because he is a baby. He’s a real baby. No offense, Faby,” he added, addressing the fake baby in her arms—as nutjobs do.
“Will Ollie need to be bathed?” she asked Briana, doing her best to change the subject.
It was that or stuff Faby’s head into Jordan’s mouth before he asked another wacky child-rearing question.
Briana shook the bottle, then tested a drop of the liquid on the back of her wrist. “No, Thad bathed him before you got here. It’s getting close to Ollie’s bedtime. All you’ll need to do is give him his bottle and rock him a bit. He’s a good little sleeper. I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble. Thad, why don’t you pass Ollie to Georgie and let him get used to her.”
The man, who was not her obstetrician, glanced at his wife.
“Honey, we’re getting a night out,” Briana said, raising an eyebrow.
“Right!” the guy replied, springing into action.
“Are you able to put the doll down?” Briana asked.
Georgie startled. “Sorry! Sometimes, I forget I’m holding it. I’m so used to carrying it everywhere,” she answered, setting Faby on the kitchen table, then swallowed past the lump in her throat.
This was it. No more mannequin infant—at least, for the next few hours. But they were ready. They’d practiced diapering and feeding. Yes, it was on a doll, but it was better than nothing.
“You’re going to spend some time with Georgie and Jordan tonight, big guy,” Thad said to his son before placing the child in her arms.
And…wow!
The little boy looked up at her with twinkling eyes, pursed his real baby lips, then blew another raspberry.
“You’re very good at making that noise,” she said, holding the child’s gaze and swaying side to side.
The motion came naturally as she adjusted the baby in her arms. Not surprising, Ollie weighed a heck of a lot more than Faby. But it wasn’t only his size that had her heart hammering. The warmth of him and the gentle movement of his chest as he breathed sent, not a shiver through her body, but more of a wave—a calming shift, triggering a soothing sensation.
Own the Eights Maybe Baby Page 16
