“Momma, are we going inside one of these private jets?”
I chuckled, still recording her. “What you know about private jets?”
“I see them on TV all the time,” she replied. “So, are we?”
“Yes, baby, we are. We’re flying to Miami on a private jet,” I finally revealed to her.
“Yay!” Rhema squealed and jiggled in her seat, causing the driver and I to laugh.
Ensuring my daughter was with me for this trip was one of the best decisions I ever made. This moment proved it.
For some odd reason, meeting the baby’s parents scared me more than flying to Miami on a private jet. This was Rhema and my first time leaving LA, but seeing my daughter in her happiest state gave me a sense of calm I had never felt before.
We pulled up to the prettiest jet of the bunch. “A&F Air” was painted on the aircraft in black matte paint. It screamed luxury; its glossy black body reflecting the sunlight made it look like polished glass. Diamond-shaped windows lined the side, like it had been custom-made to match its expensive aesthetic.
My bottom lip hung open as I gently pinched myself, just to make sure this was real. I never thought I’d experience anything like this. Remembering my camera, I rushed to turn it back on and film the outside. This kind of beauty deserved a spot in my visual memory collection.
The driver stepped out and opened each door for us. The jet’s fold-out airstairs were already down, like they’d been waiting for our arrival. A crew dressed in all black stood at the doorway, greeting us with the warmest smiles I’d ever seen from strangers. There was a pilot and three flight attendants who came down to help Rhema and me with our small bags, while the driver worked with the ramp agent to load our luggage into the baggage compartment.
Whoever owned this jet had to be paying them well. Every single person moved like their job was to make sure we didn’t lift a finger.
This treatment… wow. If only this was my everyday life. Is this how rich people feel all the time?
“I appreciate you,” I told the driver before we stepped inside.
Rhema was all smiles as we entered, but I paused at the door, taking it all in. The black and chrome interior was even more breathtaking than the outside. Soft black leather seats with the name “A&F Air” embossed into the headrests lined the cabin, detailed with sleek chrome along the armrests and trim. Sunlight streamed through the diamond-shaped windows, casting a dreamy glow across the glossy tables and plush flooring.
Damn. It’s beautiful in here.
“Ms. Heart, I’m Josie. I’ll be assisting you and your daughter for the duration of your flight. You’re welcome to sit anywhere you’d like,” the flight attendant said, her sleek bun and fitted uniform just as polished as the jet itself. Her smile was effortless. “The medical team should be arriving shortly, and then we’ll be on our way. In the meantime, please get comfortable. I’ll bring menus for you to look over.”
“Thank you so much, Josie.” I gently gestured toward Rhema.
“Thank you, Ms. Josie,” Rhema said sweetly.
Josie gave a small, approving nod before stepping away.
As soon as she left, I pulled my camera back out, trying to capture everything before the rest of the passengers arrived. The baby was moving around like crazy while I snapped photos and recorded clips of every corner. Just as I got my last shot of Rhema looking too pretty in her seat, a medical team of three stepped into the doorway. They introduced themselves one by one, explaining their roles. After making sure we had everything we needed, they took their seats, and then it was time to go.
I rubbed my belly, laughing softly as the baby continued to do a full gymnastic routine in my womb. Then, I gripped the armrest and laced my fingers with Rhema’s as the jet lifted into the sky.
Miami, here we come.
A few hours later, I was woken up by Josie. My focus instantly went to Rhema, who was knocked out next to me. I calmed down when I realized she was good. I woke up forgetting that I was in a private jet. The ride had been smooth as butter; it put Rhema and me right to sleep.
“That was some good sleep you got there,” one of the individuals from the medical team said to me.
“I did. How long was I sleeping?”
The woman lifted her wrist closer to her eyes to see the time on her watch.
“Uh, you slept about five hours.” They all giggled as their eyes softened.
“Oh, my goodness. That’s the entire flight to Miami. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was sleeping that long.
“Don’t you worry about that. We promise there’s no reason to apologize. If we weren’t keeping an eye on you, we probably would’ve been fast asleep too.”
I smiled, but I felt guilty that they weren’t able to rest because they had been hired to watch me.
