Her gaze flicked to my hoodie. “You wore my hoodie. Great disguise.” She crossed her arms with a smirk.
I hesitated for a moment, then I figured, if I was going to do this, I wasn’t going to do it halfway. I took off my baseball cap and glasses. A few people nearby gasped and whispered, but I didn’t care. Right now, there was only one person I cared about.
Behind me, I heard Hal mutter, "Oh, here we go," followed by Tom's resigned sigh and the telltale click as they both moved into high-alert formation.
Anna laughed and loosened something tight inside me. I wanted to hear that sound for the rest of my life.
"Sir," Hal's voice cut through the moment, professional but strained. "You're causing a crowd."
I glanced over my shoulder. A small group of travelers had stopped to watch, phones out. Tom was already positioning himself to block the worst of it.
"Let them watch," I said, turning back to Anna.
"This is going on TikTok," Tom muttered.
"It's already on TikTok," someone in the crowd called out.
Hal pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't get paid enough for this."
I didn’t wait another second. I stepped forward, closing the small distance between us. My hands found her waist as I pulled her close, right there in the walkway between Gate C15 and C16. The world around us seemed to fade—the hurried announcements over the intercom, the click of suitcases against the floor, the smell of airport food.
And then I kissed her.
It wasn’t perfect. A baby wailed in the background, a group of college kids yelled something about going viral, and I was sure more than a few people had just snapped a photo. But all that mattered was Anna.
When we finally broke apart, she looked up at me, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide. “Well,” she said, her voice teasing but breathless, “that’s one way to make a scene.”
“I don’t care about the scene.” I looked in her eyes and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I love you. And I’m not running from that anymore.”
“I love you, too.” Anna leaned into me. We weren’t at either of our destinations yet, but standing there in the middle of a busy airport, I’d finally found my way back home.
57
ANNA
SIX MONTHS LATER
I didn’t getto 101 rejections.
That was my first thought when I saw the email. It sat at the top of my inbox, the subject line screaming in bold:Congratulations! Publishing Offer for Your Manuscript.
My heart stopped. Then started. Then stopped again.
This had to be a mistake. A spam email from a robot that wanted to sell me fake editing services. Or worse, a cruel prank from the universe.
But, no, it was real.
I opened the email with trembling fingers, my eyes scanning the words so fast they blurred together. Bidding war. Multiple offers. Film-rights interest. My stomach flipped.
I reread it, this time more slowly. Then again. My superhero story—the one I almost didn’t send out, the one I thought no one would ever care about—wasn’t just going to be published. It was going to be made into a movie.
Before I could process the rest, my phone rang.
“Anna.” It was my agent, her voice bright and bubbly. “I just got off the phone with another editor. It’s official—a bidding war. And—wait for it—Gerald Fargo bought the film rights.”
“Gerald Fargo?” I blinked.
“That’s the one. And guess what? He wants Luke Fisher for the lead.”
