Page 127 of Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

I started to walk away but he grabbed the back of my t-shirt.

“Let go, Jonah,” I told the air in front of me, refusing to face him. “I promise you, you won’t win.”

“Don’t you want to know how I found you?” he asked, releasing his grip.

I hated that I did. I sincerely needed to know how the hell he was finding us since we told no one we were even going to Italy.

“How?” I asked, still refusing to turn.

“Why don’t you ask January that question,” he said, chuckling. My blood boiled to an intense heat, but when I turned to confront him he’d vanished around the corner like a slithering snake.

“What a crock of shit,” I mumbled to myself. “She’d never betray me.”

But he’d planted a seed in that moment and as much as I hated it, it made me think.

How did he find us? If January and I were the only ones to know where we were going and I didn’t tell him, that left only one other person who could inform him. Surely not, I thought, shaking my head. He’s just trying to get inside your head.

I entered the theater trembling from the need to hit something. I booked it to the attendant tearing tickets and handed over mine. He pointed to a theater to my right and said something in Italian I didn’t understand. I just nodded and told him the only Italian word I knew. I hoped to God it was thank you but I couldn’t be sure.

The theater wasn’t yet dark and there was no one else inside but January. “Good, the previews haven’t started,” I told her, pasting the best smile I could attempt.

“Over here!” January shouted. She’d stood and started waving her arms. “I’m over here, Tom! Can you see me?” She joked. I looked on her. There’s no way she’d do that to you.

“Yes, I can, January, seeing as we’re the only two people in here,” I joshed back, the lump in my throat only getting bigger.

“Oh good. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Your jumping up and down helped.”

We settled into our seats and she rested her head on my shoulder. I swallowed my fear and tried to control my shaking.

“This isn’t the film you bought the ticket for,” she accused quietly.

“Yes, it is,” I said, turning to meet her face.

“Then what took you so long?”

“Nothing, I just got a bit lost. I don’t speak the language, remember?”

“You’re lying,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I am not,” I said, lying through my teeth. “Here,” I said, removing my ticket.

She took it and studied it, confirming what I’d already told her. “Hmm,” she teased. “You pass, Christopher Lloyd, but something’s still wrong, I can tell.”

“Okay, Huey Lewis, I swear there’s no news.”

“You forget, I’ve got ‘the power of love.’”

“It’s a curious thing,” I added dryly.

“Yeah,” she said, “It’s tougher than diamonds, rich like cream.”

“Stronger and harder than a bad girl’s dream,” I continued.

“Oh my God, I don’t know what’s scarier, the fact we know these lyrics or the lyrics themselves.”

“But it might just save your life, January. That’s the power of love.”