“We aren’t. I haven’t even checked with them yet. I am no more special than any other person behind the controls. I will tell you when.”

“You’re so rough with me today,” he snickered.

“You love the abuse, Winslow. Besides, we’re both happy. We bought a house together. How wonderful is that?”

“It’s great. Very normal. I love it, Nat.”

“I do, too,” Natalie smiled. “God, we’re going to be okay won’t we?”

“Definitely. I am glad we did this.”

As she was about to call the tower, Natalie’s phone rang.

“Darling, can you?—”

Ed already answered. “Hi, Vanna. Filling in for Nat as she’s in the process of the departure checklist.”

He listened, “Oh, wow. Okay. Well, I guess we will see. I will talk to her. There will be a heading or some such. I dunno. We’ll ring you from the ground.”

He hung up. “We are about to have a niece or nephew. Sanne is in labour.”

“So we should go to London?”

“Looks like it, yeah,” Ed smiled. “Fancy meeting a baby?”

“It fucks up my heading, but yes. I could do,” Natalie replied.

“Paul, just… can you stop for a fucking second and just… listen to me?”

Paul feverishly sorted through his closet. He claimed he’d lost jeans, but Sanne spotted them on the ground. It was a panic reaction to the fact that her waters had broken, and their baby was on its way a week early. Paul reacted in panic. He was riled up.

Sanne took a deep breath and fought through a painful contraction.

Landing on the other side, she asked, “Paul, sweetie. Have you taken your medication today?”

“Shit. No! Oh my God! There are my jeans! Bugger all!”

He bolted across the room to take his stimulants. It would help.

“They are packed in the bag,” Sanne reminded him of their location.

Paul ran towards the bed, rummaging as Sanne gripped the bedpost and yowled through a horrid contraction. He knocked back the tablet and shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s not fair. I wish I could make it stop.”

“I know, I know,” Sanne panted. “Fuck. This hurts so bad.”

“They said it would. I suppose it does live up to the hype? Well, we’d better go. Don’t want you to have the baby here.”

“Paul, you need to put on pants.”

“I’m wearing pants.”

“You’re not!”

Paul looked down. “I am.”

“Trousers, Paul. Actual trousers.”