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She glanced at the flower, then slowly motioned with her left hand, palm out, toward it, and said in a soft monotone, “No, gracias.”
Matt smiled when he saw the diamonds of her engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight. But he thought that her face looked, as her voice had sounded, if not saddened, then simply devoid of any emotion.
Matt pushed the hat back on his head, motioned near the menu with the flower again.
“Señorita, por favor?”
Amanda looked up from her menu and in a polite tone had begun to repeat, “No . . .” when she gasped. “Matt?”
Payne, putting his open hand on his chest, joined in with the musicians, but in English, and completely off key: “Kiss me, kiss me a lot / For I’m scared to lose you, to lose you afterward . . .”
Amanda stood up, her face showing a mix of surprise and excitement.
“Oh my God,” she said, “I’ve missed you so much . . .”
—
Matt Payne refilled their glasses with the last of the pitcher of frozen margaritas.
“So, they forced my hand,” he said. “And, you know, I’m glad they did. It leaves me with no excuse not to broaden my horizons.”
“What’s your plan?”
“The initial plan, subject to modification, is that I’ll be working in my father’s Center City office while taking that new combined Law-MBA program at UP.”
“What do you think you’d want to do with that?”
He shrugged. “Almost anything. Get this: Aimee Wolter says that I should consider running for district attorney, that she would run the campaign. But that’s getting ahead of things. First things first . . .”
“Matt, listen. That all sounds great. But hold that thought. I have to tell you something . . .”
“Okay.”
“I really went off prematurely. I like to think I’m pretty tough . . .”
“And you are. Incredibly tough.”
“But losing the baby hit me hard. Really hard. You saw how I was, with my hormones raging off the chart. I’m grateful you tolerated me. That, and I’ve been talking with my father. Not about my hormones but about you. And me. Us. I won’t repeat exactly what he said—he’s not one to sugarcoat, as you know—but he helped convince me.”
“About what?”
Amanda was silent. She met his eyes.
“Even though I get concerned and worried,” she said, “I’ve always respected what you do, and what my dad did, as a cop. And now, tending to these warrior heroes here at the medical center . . . and seeing their amazingly strong families supporting them . . . has helped put it in another light.”
She paused to sip her margarita, clearly collecting her thoughts.
“I came here to learn more about medicine,” she went on. “And I have. The work that’s done at Brooke is incredible, miraculous. But what I’ve also really learned about here is the inner strength, the extraordinary determination and perseverance, of the patients. They have been through hell, had their lives literally blown up, suffering horrific burns, losing arms and legs, and more. Yet they believe in who they are and what they do. The harder it gets, they tougher they get. And you know what? After all they’ve been through, and all they will go through, with multiple operations and then rehabilitation, they still would do anything to get back to serving with their brothers and sisters in uniform. It is awe-inspiring. And humbling.”
She paused.
Matt felt his throat tighten.
“So I get it, Matt. And I don’t want you to quit if you don’t. I’ll work this out. We can work this out.”
“You’re sure about this?” he said, his voice strained.
“Our world needs good men to overcome the evil. I know that to be an absolute.”
