Page 37 of Midnight Ink

But we’re here. In one piece.

Ian and I watched a movie on the flight after my panic attack, and his fingers stayed in mine the entire rest of the way. He’d fallen asleep halfway through the movie, his head tipped toward my shoulder, and I couldn’t shut my brain off long enough to even pretend I didn’t love it.

A sharp crack splits the air.

Everyone in the food court looks up at the ceiling. Lights flicker. Outside the massive glass window, the sky darkens around us fast. Thick clouds roll in like a curtain snapping closed and shutting out the light.

“This is bad.”

“It’s just a storm.” Ian pauses mid-bite then his brow furrows at the crackle of an intercom.

“Attention passengers. Due to severe weather conditions affecting the southeastern region, all departing and arriving flights are currently delayed. This includes all outbound flights to the Caribbean. We are monitoring the situation closely and will provide updates as soon as they become available. Please remain in the terminal and check your airline’s app or gate screens for the latest information.”

Whispers ripple through the terminal.

Ian twists around in his seat, checking the large screen. Our flight number comes up. Cancelled. “No,” Ian mutters. “Fuck no.” He drops his burger back on the tray. “No, no, this isn’t happening.”

“Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just reschedule our flight.”

“Yeah, but when?” He rubs his hands over his face. “We’re supposed to check in today. We can’t just⁠—”

“I mean, storms pass quickly, right?” I try to sound reasonable. “It can’t take that long, right?”

Ian’s already standing. “Let’s go ask. I need my bag.”

The airline service desk is packed. People are arguing, crying, or scrolling frantically on their phones. A great mixture for levelheaded calmness. A tired looking agent finally waves us forward.

“Hi, um, our flight looks like it was cancelled. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now,” Ian says calmly, but I can feel his nerves.

“Where are you flying, sir?”

“Puerto Rico,” Ian says instantly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she replies, typing something. “There’s a severe hurricane warning in effect. All flights to Puerto Rico and surrounding islands are suspended until further notice.”

She turns the screen slightly toward us, and red alerts stack on top of each other. “Oh, I’m going to kill Anna.” The service worker cocks a brow. “Um, figuratively, of course.” He looks at me. “Why didn’t Anna say anything?”

“I mean, I think we both know she went, ‘Book flights for Puerto Rico . . . done,’ and didn’t check shit.”

Ian nods. “We need a new assistant.”

“Are you brave enough to fire her?” I wait, and Ian closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Didn’t think so.”

“If you’d like,” she continues gently. “We can put you on a return flight home tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Ian stares at her.

“Yes sir.”

“I don’t want to stay in an airport overnight.”

“Ian.” I touch his arm. “It’s okay, we’ll get a refund for the hotel and try again⁠—”

“Tomorrow?” He repeats like he’s not hearing me.

The agent hesitates then leans forward. “I’m going to be honest. This storm is severe and we have another rolling in right behind it in a few days. I don’t think you’re getting a flight out for at least a few days, and that’s if seats are even available. This storm came suddenly. Everything’s a bit chaotic right now. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

I pull Ian’s attention back to me. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”