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Ginny’s dizzy as her chest finally stops heaving. Her vision blurs at the edges while her eyes desperately try to focus on her mom’s stunned face, the older woman still holding the bottle of milk away from her body like it insulted her outfit.
Ginny can’t take the swell of silence anymore.
“Mom, is it possible—"
“Of course it’s possible, Ginny. This is me we’re talkin’ about here. Men sneeze at me and I’m ovulatin’, remember?”
Two days. She missed her birth control for two days while in lock-up after initially being arrested. She got back on it the second she was back home on house arrest, but apparently the damage had already been done.
God-fucking-damnit.
“Mom, that was the last of our milk.” Ginny’s voice cuts through Georgia’s internal spiral.
Georgia hadn’t even realized that she’d drained the damn thing while caught up in her own head. Her body just ran on instinct, and pregnant-Georgia’s body needs milk like cats need whiskers.
“You should take a test,” Ginny suggests softly, trying not to outwardly panic over something that could just be a fluke.
Maybe her mom didn’t feel like drinking water? Maybe this improved version of Georgia Miller no longer drinks wine before noon?
“I’ll run to CVS and grab one,” Ginny offers, already jumping off her stool.
She can’t sit here any longer watching her mother stare at the empty milk bottle still clutched in her hand.
The movement seems to snap Georgia back to her surroundings, the sound of metal scraping against the floor puncturing her thoughts.
“No need, Peach,” Georgia drawls, the words sounding utterly defeated.
Ginny stares, disbelieving. “Mom, maybe it’s just a random beginning-of-summer craving—"
“I mean there’s no need to grab a test,” Georgia cuts in, setting the empty jug on the table. “I already have one. And, believe me, one is all I need.”
Paul didn’t exactly think to grab the test he’d bought for her the night that he stormed out. Georgia had saved it to replace the one that Ginny had used. Keeping pregnancy tests on hand had become as vital as having toilet paper after she had Austin.
Georgia watches her daughter’s throat bob as the teen swallows thickly, the action heightening her own anxiety at the possibility of having disappointed her kid again so soon after Ginny had sang her praises of how she was changing for the better.
Here she is, not even a day later, worrying her eldest child for the umpteenth time.
“Well, what are we waiting for, Mom? You just drank enough milk to pee a river. Your bathroom or mine?” Ginny asks with a growing sense of urgency.
“Peach, no,” Georgia shakes her head. “I can do this on my own. I should do this on my own. It’s not fair to put this on you.”
Boundaries. She heard both Ginny and Dr. Lilly. Maybe she can salvage her changed persona yet.
But Ginny has other ideas.
“You’re not putting this on me, Mom. I want to be there. I need to be there. You were there for me, and I’m in this now. I need to know as much as you do.”
Georgia nods along, numb. She doesn’t have it in her to fight with her daughter right now. She marches up to her bathroom, Ginny hot on her heels, and reaches in the cabinet under the sink where she stored the test.
Ginny was right about one thing: she has to piss like a racehorse the second her eyes land on the toilet.
Perfect timing.
Ginny lays out a paper towel on the sink that her mother sets the test on right before washing her hands. The brunette sets a timer for 3 minutes as the pair make their way into the adjoining bedroom to wait it out.
It’s not like the test is going anywhere. A watched pot doesn’t boil any faster. They might as well be a little more comfortable while they wait.
The quiet stretches out around them, enveloping them both in a blanket of unease. Ginny waits a good 10 seconds, sure that her mom will break the silence with some ridiculous comment or question.
But there’s nothing.
The 16-year-old blurts out the first non-baby-related thing that comes to mind.
“Dad wants to take me to South Korea for the summer.” She winces the second the words are out, disapproving of her own choice of distraction.
“He what?”
Ginny meets her mom’s eyes, finding unmasked shock and fury blazing in the brown orbs.
“When pigs fly!” the blonde declares heatedly.
Well, at least Ginny’s attempt at a distraction seems to have worked.
“Dad’s always promised to take me, Mom. You know that.”
Georgia eyes her daughter, putting the pieces together in the way that only she can.
“When did your dad float this little idea by you? He sure as hell didn’t run it by me!”
Ginny suddenly finds the carpet beneath her feet so interesting, and that all but confirms it for Georgia.
“Zion didn’t think he would have to run it by me because he was plannin’ on takin’ you after I was convicted,” she says knowingly, southern drawl tinged with betrayal.
“Which you weren’t because of me, Mom,” Ginny points out, pulling out her new favorite card to play.
“And I’m sure you’re gonna lord that one over me for the rest of time,” Georgia groans heavily. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m your mother and I have rights. I agreed to shared custody with the understandin’ that your dad would be in Boston, Virginia, not takin’ you across the world for three months!”
Whatever snappy rebuttal Ginny has planned dies on her lips as the timer blares on her phone.
At least they managed to kill the time.
Mother and daughter both sit frozen on the spot. Heads whip up to look at one another, their gazes serving as mirrors of sheer panic.
All thoughts of their previous argument now on hold, Ginny blindly grabs for her mother’s hand.
“Want me to look?”
Georgia shakes her head. “No, Peach. You can be here, but this one’s still on me.”
Ironically enough, Ginny is every bit as petrified about the results of this test as she was of her own only weeks before.
Whatever this test says feels like it’ll change her life as much as her own pregnancy would have.
She hears her mom take a deep breath, then another. One more. The older woman closes her eyes, picking up the plastic stick with them still screwed shut. Another breath and they’re open again, going wide as they take in the sight.
A plus sign.
Positive.
God-fucking-damnit to hell.
Ginny can see the bold lines from over her mother’s shoulder. It’s everything she can do not to collapse on the bathtub’s edge while her mother drops like a discarded towel down onto the toilet seat lid.
One of them should remain standing. At least that’s what it feels like.
“What are you going to do?” Ginny squeaks out, almost afraid to disturb the air around them and make it all real.
Something shifts in Georgia’s expression. Something close to steely resolve, but Ginny can’t be sure when it comes to her mother.
“I’m gonna have it,” Georgia states plainly, as if she were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance or something.
It’s Ginny’s turn to drop her jaw. “Mom, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to choose this. I didn’t.”
Georgia nods, meeting her daughter’s dark eyes. “And I will forever support the decision that you made, Peach. But the choice is mine this time around. I had you. I had your brother. Both of you were born under worse circumstances than we’re in now. We have a home. We have some money. We have a fresh start. I told you that you and your brother are the best things that have ever happened to me, and I fully intend on addin’ this baby to that short, very exclusive list.”
For once, Ginny can’t find the words. There is no rhythmic stanza being woven in her head.
Instead, her mom’s words dance around her brain in a jumbled mess, not stringing together coherently in a way that Ginny can comprehend.
Georgia takes a breath, this one more determined than the ones from before.
“I’m doin’ this, Peach. I’m havin’ this baby.”
Georgia’s not sure where the surge of confidence comes from. Maybe it’s her maternal instincts going into overdrive. Maybe it’s the prospect of getting a do-over as a mother and having a child who’s not born in poverty to a grossly underaged mother.
The more she thinks about it, the more hope swirls in her chest. Hope that everything can really be different this time. Better.
“What about Paul? Do you really think he’s just going to, what, not notice your change in figure while you’re strolling around town over the next 9 months?”
Virginia Miller, everyone. Buzzkill of the century.
Georgia didn’t even get to live in her idyllic little world featuring her future family of four for two minutes.
She couldn’t even have that.
And if that weren’t enough, Ginny, in all her teenager-ness, just has to pile it on.
“Paul’s going to fight you for custody the second this baby’s born, Mom, and you can’t just go and kill him. You promised that was over.”
“Jesus, Virginia, I don’t kill every man who stands in my way,” Georgia says, bordering on being offended.
“No, some of them are defenseless men you’ve never even formally met,” Ginny points out, seemingly incapable of not sticking her finger in that open wound.
It surely would’ve truly hurt Georgia had she still been listening. Her brain had tuned out her daughter in favor of plotting how she is going to deal with Paul.
Only maybe she doesn’t have to.
Georgia shrugs a shoulder, suddenly nonchalant. “Paul can’t fight me for custody if the baby ain’t his.”
Ginny gapes at her mom, hardly able to believe what she’s hearing. “Who else would it be, Mom?”
Georgia doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “Joe.”
“Joe?! As in my boss, Joe?”
“Do you know any other Joes in this town, Peach?” Georgia quirks a manicured brow.
“When did you—you know what, I don’t even want to know.”
But that’s never stopped Georgia Miller from spilling the details anyway.
“The night I ran away. It was only the one time. But that one time is all I need to make it plausible.”
“Talk about going out with a bang,” the teen mutters. “And make what plausible?” Ginny’s face twists in confusion. “Joe being the father? Isn’t it actually plausible if you guys slept together?”
“I wouldn’t be chugging milk already like it’s the Earth’s only resource if this baby really was Joe’s.”
Georgia may not have her diploma, but she certainly knows how conception dates work.
“So, you’re going to, what, fudge the timelines? Try to pull one over on the OBGYN? Lie?” The accusation in Ginny’s voice is unmistakable.
“It’s only a matter of a couple of weeks, Ginny. As far as Paul and anyone else outside of that doctor’s office is concerned, I’ll just be delivering’ mere weeks ahead of schedule. Women go into early labor all the time.”
Ginny scoffs, crossing her arms like it’ll strengthen her argument. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? What about Joe? Have you thought about him in this brilliant little plan of yours?”
Shit.
Joe.
He’s been here for her at every turn. Stood by her when everything looked hopeless and most others had turned their backs.
But there’s a big difference between bringing over some dinner and agreeing to raise another man’s child for at least the next 18 years.
She got so caught up in the idea. In keeping her baby away from Paul. She totally forgot to factor in Joe’s feelings on the matter.
She could tell him that she expects nothing from him. She could tell him that he doesn’t have to be involved. That all he has to do is let his name be put on the birth certificate and she’ll take care of the rest.
She has to be honest with him, though. She owes him honesty, and he’s proven to be trustworthy. That’s a huge deal for her.
If he agrees to it, she’ll go to her grave swearing that it’s Joe’s baby. He or she could come out with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and wearing a “Paul Randolph for Mayor” shirt and Georgia will still swear up and down that Joe’s the father.
“What if Paul takes you to court and they order a paternity test?” Ginny asks, oh-so-unhelpfully. “What are you gonna do then? Break into the lab and switch the test results?”
Her daughter’s really on a roll tonight, isn’t she?
Georgia slumps against the side of the sink, momentarily defeated. But that defeat doesn’t last for long.
“Then we go to court. I’ll get the best lawyer money can buy – because we actually have some of that now – and we show no mercy. Paul left me – he left us – when we needed him the most. That’s got to mean somethin’ to a judge. It’ll also help if he gets voted out of office with this recall.”
Georgia’s mind’s already firing on all cylinders again. Ginny can see the wheels turning.
“What happened to changing, Mom? What happened to doing better?”
“This is doing better, Peach. Believe me, I’ve already thought about what a cute name Dakota would be for a boy or girl, but I’m not runnin’ this time. We’re not runnin’. Changin’ and bein’ better doesn’t mean I’m gonna hand my baby over. It means that I’m going to stick around, go to therapy, work on myself, and be a better mother than I ever was before.”
“You were just going on about how you’re willing to lie to everyone – including this kid – about who the father is.”
“I was thinkin’ out loud, Peach. It was a moment of weakness. A momentary lapse in judgment, okay? It’s gonna take me longer than a week to kick some old habits, but I’m not givin’ up. I made a promise to try, and that’s what I’m gonna keep doing.”
“You promise not to kill Paul?” Ginny asks, only partly sarcastic.
Georgia sighs but makes eye contact. “I promise.”
Ginny takes a seat on the tub’s edge across from her mom.
“So, we’re really doing this? We’re really going from just the three of us against the world to four?”
Georgia won’t even pretend like this won’t affect Ginny. She won’t make false promises like “I’m doing this all on my own.” No matter what she says or does, her older kids are going to be impacted by this. She just counts herself lucky that Ginny’s still willingly including herself in the equation.
“Yeah, Peach,” she says with a smile, dazzling and genuine. “We’re really doin’ this. That okay with you?”
Her mind’s already made up, but she still wants to know her daughter’s thoughts on the matter.
Ginny’s response is all too reminiscent of Georgia’s reassurances from weeks ago as the girl returns a modest smile of her own.
“Yeah. That’s okay with me.”
Georgia sits back on the toilet seat lid, relief coursing through her the way wine usually is. She studies her daughter, trying to figure out when her kid went and grew up enough to be ready to be away from her mother for months at a time.
“This trip with your dad – you really wanna do it?” Georgia asks, just a hint of hesitation clouding her words.
“Yes.” Ginny nods profusely. “I feel like I need this after everything. It’s only a couple of months, Mom. It’s not like I’m moving there or anything.”
“I know that, Peach.” Georgia sighs, the weight of this conversation evident. “And I want you to be happy. I won’t pretend that it won’t be hard not havin’ you around for a while, but I want you to know that I understand and that you have my blessin’.”
Ginny’s eyes narrow at her mother, almost looking like the teen’s waiting for a catch.
“Really?”
“Really,” Georgia nods once, unable to offer anything more with as tight as her throat suddenly feels. “Consider this the shared custody arrangement: your dad gets you this summer, but I get you for the school year.”
Ginny beams at her mother, further impressed by the woman’s progress.
“That sounds fair to me.”
Georgia reaches for her daughter’s hand, the two keeping this moment for themselves as their fingers intertwine.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, Peach?”
“Will you guys be okay while I’m gone?”
“Of course. We’ll miss you like hell, but we’ll be okay. Don’t worry about us. Don’t worry about a thing here, Peach. I’ve got this.”
It’s a novel concept for Georgia, not having Ginny around, but it’s slowly been dawning on her that she can’t hold on forever. She can’t hold her daughter back. She’s got to be the mother now, even if that calls for loosening the reigns a little.
“Mom?”
The blonde looks up again.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
The older woman sniffs. Damn hormones.
“I need a stiff glass of milk after all this,” Georgia says with a watery laugh.
“I’ll go pick some up. Lots of it,” Ginny offers, smiling gently.
Georgia sees it as the peace offering that it is. Maybe it’s the pregnancy softening her already. Maybe it’s a desire to be on good terms with her daughter before the girl leaves for her trip. Whatever it is, Georgia realizes how good it feels to not be fighting with Ginny. To let Ginny do something on her own terms.
She thought it would feel impossible. She thought it would be soul crushing for her as a mother. But seeing the look of pleasant surprise on her daughter’s face makes it easier than she ever imagined it being.
“Clear out the aisle. Whole milk. Only the best for your baby sister,” Georgia instructs, her cravings intensifying just thinking about it.
“Baby sister?” Ginny quirks a brow.
“Call it a hunch,” Georgia says with a wink.
Ginny stands and lets go of her mom’s hand, intending to head out before being called back just as she reaches the doorway.
“I love you, Peach. No matter where you go or how long you’re gone…I love you.”
If the whole murder trial ordeal taught Georgia anything, it’s that she can love her kids from anywhere. She’ll find a way to support them no matter how they might be separated.
Ginny smiles, the sight easy and carefree for the first time in a long time.
“I love you, too, Mom.”