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“How are you feeling, Evelyn, excited?” Logan asks.
Geez, these two are merging into one insane person. Exciting? Sure. I’m eight weeks pregnant and I’m going to jump out of a plane. Have I utterly lost my mind?
“We thought we’d save the privilege of jumping off first to you.”
Dear God, these men have lost their minds. Me first? All I can do is nod. The plane takes off and my knees are wobbly standing up for take-off. Logan and Sean are chattering about how beautiful everything is.
The plane reaches the altitude for jumping. Logan unbuckles and so does Sean.
“Here we go!” Logan shouts over the noise of the plane.
Both Sean and Logan get me ready to jump. They place me at the edge of the door. The wind whips through the hair that is hanging out of my helmet. I can’t do this. I’ll certainly be jumping to my death.
“Okay here we go!” Sean shouts.
I feel like I’m going to throw up again. My heart is beating so very fast, I can’t catch my breath. Logan puts his hand on my back, like he’s going to push me out. I break out into a cold sweat.
“I’m pregnant! I can’t jump. Please don’t make me jump!!” I scream into the wind, tears streaming down my face.
I slip and I’m almost out the door. Then I feel Logan’s strong hands pulling me into the airplane. Both men are laughing at me.
“Wow, it took almost pushing you out of a plane for you to come clean.”
“You knew, Logan?”
“Of course, we knew,” Sean says.
“Let’s just say your doctor is a fraternity brother of ours who has never been able to keep his mouth shut.”
Logan and Sean take my hand and lead me to another section of the plane that is very luxurious and plush.
“Hey, what is this?”
“A celebration, my love,” Logan says.
I look around the cabin and there are flowers and champagne on ice. There are even balloons in pink and blue. They’ve gone all out. I want to cry. How could I have kept this news from them?
“Are you up to going to Paris for the weekend?”
“But I’ve packed nothing, Sean.”
“We packed for you.”
“Paris is your dream, so we wanted to take you there,” Logan says.
“Gosh, it sounds like I’m dying. Am I dying?”
“You’re not dying sweetheart, you’re just pregnant,” Sean says.
“Is there any difference?”
Logan pops the champagne open, and it sprays all over us.
“Chocolate coconut, you’re favorite!” Sean shouts.
The cake is decorated with an elaborate jewel encrusted stork. I can’t believe how wonderful these two men are to me.
Instead of champagne they have gotten me some sparkling grape juice. We toast to our baby and to our future and sit back as the plane catches the jet stream on the way to Paris.
I know I should be mad that they knew I was pregnant all along and said nothing,andthat they planned a secret trip to Paris without telling me- but I’m not. This is just too perfect a moment for anger.
I now realize that all my worrying was for nothing. These are the perfect men to raise a baby with, and I know that they will be the most amazing fathers.
