by Leah Konen
He heard a muffled voice but couldn’t make out the words.
“What do you mean the other room is closed for renovations? Mike’s still on break. What the hell am I supposed to do with her?”
More impossible-to-hear words, and then: “Does she seem violent?”
And after another second or two, “Fine, bring her in.”
The door swung open, and Gael had to blink twice to be sure of what he was seeing. There, standing in the doorway, was Sammy Sutton.
Gael’s heart threatened to burst at the seams.
She was wearing her own set of handcuffs, and she sauntered in like she owned the place.
When her eyes caught his, she gasped.
But within moments, the shocked look on her face was replaced with the most adorable smile in the world.
“Hey, stranger,” she said playfully.
“Hey,” Gael said.
The man looked from Sammy to Gael and back again. “You two don’t know each other, do you?”
Gael shook his head quickly. Sammy did, too.
The man raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t pursue it. He pulled up a chair on the other side of the table. “Take a seat,” he said to Sammy. “I gotta get my partner and find another place to put you.”
“Sure thing,” she said. She raised her eyebrows at Gael as she sat down.
The man moved for the door. “Try not to collude or anything while I’m gone,” he said. “And on a Friday, no less,” he muttered under his breath as he walked out of the room.
Sammy looked behind her to make sure the door was shut. “So I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. Her handcuffed hands rested on the table, just inches from his.
“Me, either,” he said. He leaned forward, and so did she. They were so close it was making him crazy.
“So what’s your story?” she asked, her hands magnetically moving toward his.
Gael calmed his breathing. “I was trying to get through security to convince you not to get on your flight.” His hands met hers, and his thumb traced circles in her palm. His body suddenly felt hot all over. “What’s yours?”
She smiled mischievously. “My phone miraculously came on just as we were about to take off. I may have been a little less than cooperative when they told me I couldn’t listen to your voice mail.”
Gael felt himself blush. “You shouldn’t have listened to that voice mail anyway,” he said. “It was terrible and awkward.”
She laughed, leaned even closer. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Hey,” he said, without pulling back so much as a millimeter. “Not nice.”
Her face was only inches from his when she spoke, so close she only had to whisper to be heard. “I’m pretty sure you never liked me because I was nice, Gael Brennan.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re right.”
And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
And it was freaking fantastic.
Her lips were soft, and her mouth was warm, and it was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he hadn’t even known to want just weeks before. It was exactly how it was supposed to be, he was sure of it this time . . .
Sammy pulled back. “You taste like pickles.”
Gael burst out laughing. “It’s a long story,” he said.
“I look forward to hearing the whole thing.”
He kissed her again, and it felt so wonderful, so thrilling, so right, that he barely even heard the opening of the door.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” the TSA man said. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit.”
a final note from Love
Aww, don’t you just love a good happy ending?
If you’re wondering if I had any role in this final push to bring these kids together, well, as a matter of fact, I did.
I may have been responsible for Sammy’s phone inexplicably coming back on. And I may have handcrafted a CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS sign on the only other interrogation room in Terminal 2.
Plus a few other tricks that need not be explained. I do have to maintain an air of mystery.
Listen, it was the least I could do after the mess I’d created.
I would never be able to make it up to Gael’s parents, and maybe, in the end, that’s how it was supposed to be. Maybe, as Piper reminded Gael (and me), the love they had now, though different, was still just as important. Maybe the happily ever after in store for them was a different one than I’d pictured.
I mean, if I’ve learned anything from this whole debacle, it’s that I certainly am not always right.
Still, I had come through for Gael and Sammy.
They were on the right track, and their romance was ready to blossom.
Now, all I had to do was wait about twenty years for Gael’s big movie to come out. And, believe me, I was definitely finagling premiere tickets for that one . . .
Anyway, forgive my rudeness, but I must cut my final speech a little short.
See, there’s a boy in Baltimore waiting at the airport, with a teddy bear, balloons, and a heart-shaped box of chocolates in his hands. A boy who’s about to have his heart broken when he realizes that Sammy won’t actually be stepping off that plane.
And to be totally frank, I’ve got my work cut out for me again.
Because John, like Gael, is a Certified Grade-A Romantic.
Oh, dear.
Here we go again.
acknowledgments
A huge thanks to the many people (and places) who made writing this book possible.
To Annie Stone, for crazy-good insights, phone calls over the holidays, and your willingness to tackle editorial notes via text—I could not have done this without you, and I promise to (try to) take up less of your personal time in the future. And to Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, and the Alloy family—you’re the brainstorming dream team I never knew I wanted. Also, a big thanks to Emilia Rhodes for taking a chance on my writing and this story. And to Danielle Rollins—our semi-regular, err, meetings at Rye turned out way more productive than either of us could have imagined!
To Anne Heltzel, for adoring my hopeless starry-eyed hero just as much as I do and believing in this book with all your romance-loving heart. And to the entire team at Abrams—you guys sure know how to make an author feel supported.
To my agent, Danielle Chiotti—you and the Upstart Crow team are rock stars. Thanks ever so much.
To the town of Chapel Hill, for taking me under its wing and giving me some of the best four years of my life. And to the crew at Cosmic Cantina: Thanks for knowing my order for four years, and sorry if I stole your hot sauce once or twice. To the “Hall of Hottness,” you made Chapel Hill what it is for me.
To my mom, dad, and Kimberly—you’re not only super-supportive of my writing, but you’re all a bunch of movie addicts like me. Mom, thanks for exposing me to Hitchcock from a young age. Dad, thanks for taking me to all the Star Wars, even though the movie theater was far away. Kimberly, thanks for working through the Blockbuster horror section with me. I couldn’t have written a book about a movie buff without you. And to Farley, I’m not sure if the movies we watch together get through to you, but that one time you barked your head off at the villain in Sicario, so I like to think they do.
Finally, to my NYC single ladies (and former single ladies)—thanks for braving the insane Brooklyn dating scene with me so I’d have lots of fodder for a romantic comedy. And to Thomas, for taking me out of said scene and never being afraid to be your own romantic self.