Chapter 32 Jonathan #2
He leads us into a windowless room with two empty metal chairs and a table straight out of a police procedural.
The walls are an uninspired white, the lighting overhead is dimmed in a creepy, hazy way like it’s trying to set a tone.
The area smells faintly of industrial cleaner, pungent but not quite unpleasant.
I take a seat in one of the frigid chairs and AJ sinks into the other beside me.
The officer huffs, the corners of his dark mustache twitching with exasperation.
It’s the kind of mustache that’s probably meant to command respect but mostly makes him look like a Monopoly Man impersonator who swapped the monocle for a walkie-talkie.
“Stay here,” he grumbles as he steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a dull thud.
AJ and I exchange a look. For a beat, we’re silent. Then, like she’s been waiting all this time for permission, she suddenly climbs onto my lap, nearly knocking the wind out of me. Her laugh bubbles out, wild and carefree. She plants kisses along my cheek, my jaw, my temple, still giggling.
I wrap my arms around her waist, grounding her to me like I never want to let her go again. Which, let’s be honest, I don’t. Not now. Not ever.
I find her lips and this time, the kiss deepens.
No audience. No noises. Just us. Despite being in the most sterile, uncomfortable room imaginable, it somehow feels like the most intimate moment I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve never wanted a woman more than I do in this moment.
Her legs tangled with mine, her breath brushing my face, her laugh still hanging in the air; it’s almost too much.
I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes, my heart practically begging me to say what I’ve been holding in.
“I love you too, AJ,” I tell her softly, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Of course I love you.”
Her face lights up as she throws her arms around my neck, squeezing like she’s trying to fuse us together. I’d let her melt into me right here in this freezing interrogation room if it meant we never had to be apart again.
The moment is short-lived as the door swings open and a tall man walks in, filling the doorway like an ominous shadow.
He’s all angles: broad shoulders, square jaw, dress shirt with the tie yanked loose and sleeves rolled up like he’s halfway through a long, exhausting day of dealing with stupid people. He clears his throat.
AJ quickly lifts herself off my lap and slides back into her chair, straightening her blouse with a small, guilty smile. I sit up too, though I don’t bother pretending I’m sorry.
The man steps forward and introduces himself in a tone that’s both bored and vaguely threatening. “I’m Special Agent Thomas. FBI liaison to TSA.”
FBI? Wow. AJ really messed up this time.
I sit up straighter, hands out slightly like I’m ready to plead our case. “Listen, this is all a big misunderstanding.”
He nods slowly, like he’s humoring a toddler. “Sure.” Then he looks directly at AJ, arching a single unimpressed eyebrow. “If I had a dime for every person who illegally locks themselves in a restricted control tower and sings Olivia Newton-John into the public address system…”
He shrugs, impossibly pleased with himself. “I’d have ten cents.”
I snort.
AJ, to her credit, swallows hard and somehow holds eye contact. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice quieter but clear. “I couldn’t let him get on that plane.”
Agent Thomas tilts his head, intrigued. “Why?” he asks. “What’s on the airplane?”
That’s when I can’t help myself; I lean forward, arms on the table and laugh. “Wait, wait. Are you seriously trying to suggest she’s some kind of terrorist?” I gesture toward AJ, who’s looking adorably rumpled with her smudged eyeliner and shirt wrinkled from climbing a literal tower.
AJ smirks at that, then tries to pull herself together as the agent continues to size her up like she might suddenly pull a bomb out of her purse and blow up his afternoon paperwork.
“I suppose not,” he says after a beat. “But what the hell were you thinking?”
AJ draws in a breath, squares her shoulders and scoots her chair closer to the table. Her voice is balanced now.
“Mr. Thomas, sir,” AJ begins and I can already hear the nerves and sincerity mixed in her voice.
“This man right here was about to leave for Boston and I’m madly in love with him.
He needed to know how much I loved him.” As she says it, she grabs my hand under the table and holds it tight, her fingers warm, trembling.
Agent Thomas blinks once. “So, you thought locking yourself in an airport tower and singing into a microphone was the best way to show your love for him?” His tone suggests he’s not expecting an actual answer. But this is AJ. Of course she answers anyway.
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “He loves that song. And it’s exactly how I feel about him.”
I can’t help it, I chuckle and squeeze her hand back, even as I shoot her a you’re completely insane but I’m obsessed with you look. She meets it with that crinkled-nose smile I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for days.
Agent Thomas exhales a long, theatrical sigh and I brace for it.
The reprimand. The get-your-affairs-in-order lecture.
I even release AJ’s hand like it might soften the fallout.
Whatever happens next, I’m already thinking about bail money, lawyers, a fake medical excuse.
Maybe we claim she has low blood sugar, like if she doesn’t get a snack every two hours, she loses it and hijacks public announcement systems. Yeah. That might fly.
But instead of yelling, he says, “That’s… that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
My jaw drops. Literally unhinges.
He leans forward, lowering his voice like we’re sharing a secret across a café table and places a giant hand over AJ’s. “They say true love is dead. But what you did and why you did it…” His voice softens into theatrical awe. “Just wow.”
Ohhhh. I get it now. Special Agent Tower-of-Muscle Thomas is gay. And apparently a sucker for a romantic gesture. This man, who looks like he wrestles bears on his lunch break, just turned into the president of our love story fan club. Who would’ve thought?
AJ’s smile is bright enough to light the whole sterile room. “Thank you for understanding.”
Agent Thomas shifts his focus to me. “Did it work?” He gestures between AJ and me.
“Did what work?” I blurt out, for a second I honestly don’t follow.
He sighs, impatient. “Are you staying here instead of flying to Boston?”
Oh, that. I nod. “Yes, sir. It worked.” I slide my fingers through AJ’s again. She beams, now holding one of my hands and one of his, a bizarre but oddly sweet little chain.
Agent Thomas releases her hand and claps once, loud and delighted.
“Yay!” He catches himself, lowers his voice and grins.
“All right, all right. Let’s keep it down.
” He lowers into his chair and steeples his fingers.
“Here’s the deal. We’ll say you tried a new CBD gummy, lost your head for a second and that’s why you commandeered the PA system. No need to arrest you.”
“Arrest me?” AJ’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God.”
The agent shakes his head. “You’re not being arrested. We can make this disappear.”
Beads of sweat break out along AJ’s hairline. I’m not exactly dry either. Time to wrap this up before we test the agent’s goodwill.
I stand and extend my hand. “Agent Thomas, thank you. This will never happen again.”
He rises, shakes my hand firmly. “Good. Toss the gummies when you get home and we’ll call it a day.”
AJ stands too. She shakes Agent Thomas’s hand and says softly, “I’m sorry again.”
He leans in with a conspiratorial grin. “You go, girl.”
AJ giggles and somehow that small sound feels like the full-circle moment we didn’t know we needed.
The agent escorts us out of the holding room while a few nearby cops glance our way, clearly still unsure if we’re romantic lunatics or actual threats to national security.
Probably a bit of both. We pass through a side exit where I spot my suitcase, very obviously the victim of a thorough TSA search; zippers unzipped, contents askew, one sock dangling out like a white flag of defeat.
I grab the handle and pull it upright, then reach for AJ’s hand without even thinking.
She laces her fingers through mine like it’s second nature and we step into the sunlight outside the terminal.
The air is cooler than I expect. A little breeze kicks up, brushing against us as we head toward the Uber stand.
I order a car through the attendant, then we sit together on a bench, quiet for the first time in what feels like hours.
Not an awkward silence, just the kind that follows mass mayhem, like the world finally took a deep breath for us.
She leans her head against my shoulder and exhales slowly. I do the same. I can feel the tension melting off both our bodies, seeping into the bench and the concrete beneath us. I slide my hand into hers again, anchoring us in the peace of this moment. For once, nothing needs to be said.
Then, like a movie we forgot had one last scene, Manny appears, sprinting toward us, breathless and grinning. “Yes! You found him!” he shouts like he just won a game show.
We stand up, laughing, as Manny throws his arms around both of us in a dramatic, full-bodied bear hug.
“You did it,” he says to AJ, practically bouncing on his toes. “I got my car,” he adds, nodding toward the parking lot like he’s about to whisk us away in the Batmobile.
“Perfect,” I say, smiling as I glance toward the Uber attendant.
I walk over, nod politely and slip the guy a twenty. “Thanks, man. We’re good.”
No more disruptions. Just a long car ride ahead with the girl I almost left behind and no airport detainment required.
The late afternoon sun casts a warm haze over the pavement, the kind of golden light that makes everything feel cinematic. Just as we reach the passenger door, I stop walking.
She turns to me, curious, lips slightly parted like she knows what’s coming.
I don’t say a word, I just cradle her face in both hands and kiss her like I’ve been waiting forever to do it properly. Her lips are warm and the second she breathes into my mouth, I feel her drop into me like she never wants to let go again.
I was a fool before. I let fear drive too many decisions.
But not now. Not anymore. Because in this moment, with AJ in my arms, New York fading behind us and a future I never expected unfolding ahead, I can honestly say that Jonathan Slack is a changed man.
A stupidly happy, hopelessly in love, completely reformed fool of a man.
And he wouldn’t change a damn thing.