Sitting on the couch, I widened my eyes, holding the tears back as best I could. God, this scene always got to me—Sally Field sobbing and demanding to know why her daughter had to die so young. I’d seen Steel Magnolias five times or more since I’d bought the movie last year, and yet, here I was, seconds away from turning into a slobbering mess. Beside me, Hank was being quiet and I glanced over to check his reaction to the drama that was unfolding on the screen.
He was sound asleep.
I couldn’t help chuckling. I lowered the volume on the television and quietly pulled a Kleenex out of the box I’d wisely left within hand’s reach. I blew my nose as silently as I could and then tucked the tissue away, out of view. I looked at Hank again. He slept with his face turned to mine, leaning on the c
