Page 48 of Unforgettable

“Hmm…” she mused, popping a breadstick in her mouth, “not sure I’ve heard that one before.”

Fishing out the largest container of fettuccine alfredo I’d ever seen, I handed it to her. I couldn’t get the fork to her quick enough. Had I delayed a second more, she would have likely used her hands to scoop the noodles from the container.

With a mouthful of food, she mumbled, “This issogood.”

And my heart expanded several sizes. Amanda’s emotions were big. She lived hard, and there had always been something about her that made life better. But not just better—she made lifemore. And it was that characteristic or personality trait, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, that consistently drew me to her.

You want to hold on to the people who make your lifemore.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said around my own bite of rigatoni.

We ate our weight in pasta as the movie played, slowly finding ourselves gravitating closer to each other. And with the empty containers collected in the bags and ciders for each of us, I pulled Amanda into my chest. I was propped against the pillows at the back of the bed, and Amanda curled herself around me. One of her legs tossed over mine and her cold hands pressed into the fabric of my T-shirt on my stomach. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt more content, and the only thing that would have made it better was having my son on my other side. Two of the people I cared about the most so close.

Amanda peered up at me from where she was lying on my chest to say, “You know, you kind of have Patrick Swayze eyes.”

“Is that a good thing?” I questioned, hoping it was a strange compliment. But I shouldn’t have been surprised since the strangest things sometimes came out of Amanda’s mouth.

“I think so. I love Patrick Swayze.”

“Hmm… well, that’s good at least.”

She popped up a little farther, propping herself on her hand. “You really don’t see it?”

I shook my head. Amanda turned back to the screen and, with a serious expression, watched the movie intently until there was a scene where you could easily see the guy’s entire face for a few seconds.

“See,” she said, pointing at the screen and glancing back at me over her shoulder to make sure I was watching. “You both have this insane blue-green eye color. And his are a little more deep-set, but yours are too kind of. And you just both have this… soulful, serious look sometimes. They’re similar enough to make a comparison.”

I studied his face again while Amanda tucked herself back into my side, pulling the blankets taut. The air was cool around us, but the body heat and pounds of blankets helped insulate our warmth. There was also no way I wouldn’t be happy with Amanda pressed up against me and using me to keep warm.

“I guess I can see it,” I muttered and pulled her beanie back to press a kiss to the top of her head. My lips hovered over soft hair, andfuck, she smelled so good that I couldn’t pull away. I felt like a sociopath or a drug addict taking hits of the fresh, clean smell of her hair, but I couldn’t be helped. Thankfully, Amanda didn’t notice but eventually grabbed her beanie from where it was fisted in my hand and tugged it back over her head.

For the rest of the movie, we watched intently and without exchanging a word, except every few minutes when Amanda would nudge my chest or point at the screen, telling me it was her favorite part or favorite line. Her excitement was palpable and contagious, and all I wanted to do was experience it with her.

At the end of the movie, Amanda had been silent for several minutes until I heard her sniffle quietly against my chest.

“It’s amazing, Molly,” Patrick Swayze (Sam) said on-screen as he faded into the light.“The love inside, you take it with you.”

Another sniffle and Amanda resituated herself, pulling the blankets slightly higher.

I knew full well that it was just the movie making her cry, that it was a movie she’d seen a thousand and one times, yet still cried every time. She’d told me as much before the movie started, but even so, her wet tears against my shirt and her muffled sniffles drove an overwhelming need to comfort her through me.

Like Amanda crying sad tears was the worst thing in the world. Especially since she never cried.

My hand was already tracing down her back every so often, but as the tears continued, I pressed her closer to me and kissed her beanie while I continued rubbing soothing patterns on her back.

We stayed like that until she briefly sighed and chuckled softly when the movie came to a close. The sound of her small laughter was like a balloon of relief expanding in my chest. When she peered up at me through damp lashes, her eyes still rimmed with nearly shed tears, there was at least a small smile on her face.

“I’ve seen this movie a million times, but I still cry. That part gets me every time.”

“It’s a great movie,” I remarked. “And I forgot how freaking amazing Whoopi Goldberg is in this.”

“She’s the best. This is probably one of my favorite movies she’s done, and she won so many awards for it.”

Amanda grabbed two more ciders from the cooler, handed one to me, and then carefully rearranged the pillows on her side of the truck as she rattled off facts about the movie and the awards it won.

“So, pretty much everyone else, including the critics, also agree that Whoopi was the best part of that movie,” she finished, pulling the blanket back up around her lap and settling into the fluffed pillows. She cracked open the new cider, but before it could reach her lips, her eyebrows darted up in suspicion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I really fucking like you.” Did I think before I spoke the words out loud? No, but there wasn’t a chance I was going to keep my feelings to myself. Playing hard to get or like I didn’t give a shit weren’t options when a future with her wasn’t guaranteed. Especially when I also knew that Reed was good at laying it on thick.

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