“Whine. Whine. Whine,” Mac teases.
Layne steps between the two. “Enough. The pilot should be here any minute. I want to get at least three jumps in today.”
I motion to the concrete floor covered in every color of condom in existence. “Someone needs to pick up all these condoms.”
Layne slaps my shoulder. “Get to work.”
I find a broom and sweep the condoms into a pile. I nearly throw them away. I don’t have time for random sex since I now have Adele.
But I won’t always have Adele. My stomach cramps but I ignore it. It’s true. I won’t always have my baby girl. Her mom will return and my life will go back to normal.
I gather the condoms in a trash bag and throw it into my locker.
“Here.” Layne hands me a beer as I get to work on packing my parachute.
“I’m good.”
“You’re not going to change now that you’re a dad, are you?” He motions to Mac. “He hasn’t changed since his kids came around.”
I don’t want to discuss this topic and the easiest way to avoid it? Accept the beer. Which I do.
He pats my back and I return to my parachute. I don’t need more than five minutes to pack it, considering I’ve been jumping since I was eighteen years old and saved enough money from my job atWok the Plankto pay for skydiving lessons.
The pilot arrives and I don my wing suit before hitching my parachute on my back. I follow Mac into the airplane while Conner talks on the phone and Layne has another beer.
I frown. Two beers before noon is a bit excessive. Has he always drunk this much?
“How you doing with this dad gig?” Mac asks once we’re seated on the bench inside the plane.
“I don’t know how you do it, man. The midnight feedings, the dirty diapers, the crying. Fuck. The crying about does me in.”
He shrugs. “It’s easy. I visit my kids once a month. No worries about all the other crap.”
Once a month? I can’t imagine spending only one day a month with Adele. But if Daisy has custody, I’ll be lucky if I see her once a month.
My stomach falls to the floor. I don’t want to be an absent dad. I don’t want my kid to grow up wondering what he did wrong. Why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay.
And I don’t want to miss out on Adele growing up. She’s already changed so much in the week I’ve lived with her. I can’t imagine missing her first words, her first steps, her first day of school.
I’m falling in love with my daughter.
The knowledge hits me with such vehemence, I nearly slam my head into the side of the airplane. I contemplate the door. The urge to jump to my feet and hurry back home to Adele – who’s starting to mean the world to me – is strong.
Layne and Conner climb into the plane and my chance to escape disappears when they shut the door behind them.
The pilot switches on the engines and a hum of excitement flows through me. I’ve missed this. Not merely the skydiving. I’ve missed all of my adventures. My weekends are usually full with skydiving, motocross, or travel.
It isn’t long before the pilot indicates it’s nearly time to jump. We stand in line at the door to wait for his signal.
The second he gives it, the door is open and Conner jumps first. Followed by Layne. I’m third with Mac bringing up the rear.
I scream into the wind as my heart pumps and adrenaline fills my veins. I wish Adele could see me now. I wonder how old a child needs to be before they can make a tandem jump. I’ll find out. If Adele is mine, she’ll enjoy skydiving as much as I do.
I’m busy contemplating my baby and nearly miss the cues for our formation. We practice building a few shapes before it’s time to open our parachutes and land.
We do two more jumps before I decide to pack it in.
“What are you doing?” Conner asks when I open my locker to put away my parachute. “We have time for another jump.”
