Page 66 of Amore
“Think of this as us creating new memories out of the old ones.”
“Who’s trying to get into whose pants now?”
I threw my head back, laughing. “Are you complaining?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Definitely not.”
Amore barked.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Yep.”
We slid out of the SUV, and I took Amore by the leash. From the parking lot, we couldn’t see the set-up that production had made for the snowball fight. After Luke grabbed the picnic basket from our driver, we walked down the sidewalk and around a building. Within the roped-off area, all the trees and grass were covered in white, making it appear like snow, and the paper even glowed under the park lights shining down along the sidewalk.
“Wow,” Luke exhaled.
“I know, right?”
Before we stepped onto the snow, we let Amore use the bathroom, then walked hand in hand into thesnow. It was an amazing sight to see, and I knew once all the cameras and crew were around, the magic of the wonderland would be gone.
Amore sniffed the paper, confused about what was covering the grass. A security guard gave me a nod, probably having already gotten a heads up that Luke and I were coming, and we walked down the sidewalk to a cleared bench.
I swapped Amore’s leash for the picnic basket and opened it. “Have a seat.” Luke sat on the bench while Amore sat on the sidewalk. “He’s finally starting to obey commands,” I stated, gesturing with my head at my dog. Luke had been working with him when I was filming.
“Yep. He’s a good boy.” He rubbed Amore’s head.
I pulled out the bottle of red wine from the basket and two glasses. “Would you mind uncorking the wine while I unwrap the sandwiches?”
“Sure.” He took the bottle from me, the leash’s handle going around his wrist, and started to unwrap the foil.
“I hope the sandwiches are good,” I said.
“It’s bread and cheese. How could it be bad?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged.
“Plus, the ones we made and brought into the tent turned out good, and we were kids.”
“Not that young,” I argued. “And you knew how to cook.”
“Only because I like to cook.” He uncorked the wine.
“Thank God for that.” I set his sandwich down on the bench and reached back into the basket. “I also had Emily put these in here.” I held up a bag of Hot Cheetos.
“My favorite.”
“Ourfavorite,” I corrected. A few times a week after school, we would stop at the gas station next to where the bus dropped us off before we walked home. The three of us would each grab a soda and a bag of Hot Cheetos and bet who could finish the bag without drinking. We did it so much that each of us could do it without a problem.
Luke poured us each a glass of wine, and I set the basket on the ground before sitting beside him on the bench. We each took a bite of the lukewarm sandwiches. The buttery bread and melty cheese were good even if they weren’t piping hot.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Yeah. Maybe I can learn to make these.”
He snorted. “They aren’t hard.”
“I’ve tried before,” I admitted, taking another bite. “Burnt the hell out of one side.”
