Page 17 of Perfect Storm

It’s only then I realize my vision is a little blurred. Another side effect of being pregnant, I keep bursting into tears. For no reason most of the time.

“I completely understand the three-month rule,” she says, as if she’s read my mind. “But look what it’s doing to you, keeping it from your mom and your friends. You should be celebrating. I know it’s worrying. What you need to remember is, your friends and family love and support you. They’ll be there through the good and any bad. This is so, so good. So exciting! But I won’t say a word if you don’t want me to, I promise.”

I wring my hands, thinking over her words. She hands me a tissue so I can dab my eyes. I know what she is saying is true, but part of me feels like telling everyone makes this… real.

Admitting its real, means admitting I’m going to be someone’s mom. And I’m terrified. I’ve never been excited but terrified all at once.

The insecurities hit me as soon as I saw those red lines. I have my shit together. I’m a highly functioning, professional, independent woman. Those lines had me reaching for the counter for support.

Adam was over the moon. Initially, he’d been too excited to see I wasn’t quite as happy as him. He talked me around. And I am happy. Now and then, I still get scared.

“All new moms go through this,” Elsa whispers.

“You know all this just from your sisters?” I ask with a watery smile.

“Oh yeah, and tons of friends, too. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long without one of my own.”

“Your own what?”

I lurch in the chair as Nick’s face appears between the seats again. I splutter, my mouth hanging open, totally frozen.

“A car,” Elsa says without a second thought. “Even in LA, everyone used to say I was nuts for not owning one. Hell, I don’t even have a driving license,” she laughs.

Nick looks at her funny. “I’ve seen your driving license, babe. Your photo is cute.”

“It expired. Years ago,” she waves her hand like it’s not important.

“Why are you talking about owning a car? You live in New York now. Cars are pointless.”

“Especially when you have a driver,” Elsa muses.

All the guys have drivers when they need to go anywhere. Adam does own a car, though. He uses it when we go out of the city.

“And I’m discussing it because I want to.” She puts her hand between the seat and pushes his face away. “Mind your business, buddy.”

“Els, you had a car in LA too,” he looks even more confused.

Oh God, I groan, putting my face in my hands. Her cover story is falling apart right before us. Her blue eyes flit to mine in panic.

“You’re hopeless,” Brooke comes up behind us. “You two, go do something useful, like write a new album.”

“Ain’t that easy doll face,” Arch says without looking up from his phone.

“Well, all I ever hear from you is how amazing you are. What a fantastic musician and lyricist. Go prove it to me.”

“Why am I dragged into this? I told him to keep his nose out of their conversation,” Archer gripes.

“Move,” Brooke says, looking at Archer, then Nick.

Wisely, Nick gets up and heads to the back of the plane. Archer is slower to go. He grabs Brooke by the hip and plants a long,noisy kiss on her lips. It almost has her spitting like a cat. Once they’re both gone, she turns her gaze to us.

“You two, step into my office.”

Brooke has four seats around a table all to herself. She has her laptop set up and has been working since we boarded.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Elsa mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Brooke taps her foot. “Come on.”

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