Page 17 of Falling for my Family's Rival

“I like surprises,” Marissa says.

I want to tell her that normally I hate surprises, and I wouldn’t blame her if she felt the same way. I don’t, though. I do want to surprise her with everything on this date. I follow the road, as it curves around the lake toward the beach. It’s the perfect time of day to arrive, late afternoon. We lucked out and got a sunny, cloudless afternoon, so we might be able to climb up to the bluff and catch the sunset after we eat.

I park in the lot next to the beach. We both climb out, and I retrieve the basket from the back. I hold my hand out to Marissa, and she takes it. We stroll across the sand. There are a decent number of people here, but I guide Marissa away from the main area and up a little trail that ends at a large, flat rock with a view of the lake.

“This is lovely,” Marissa says.

“I used to come here with my brother growing up,” I say. “I’d fish, and he would throw rocks into the water so the fish would swim away. That’s got to be some kind of metaphor for our relationship now.” Marissa laughs, sending more tornadoes to swirl my heart around. Every little thing she does seems to have that effect on me. Her laughter, her playful gaze, the way she nervously twirls her curls around her finger, even the way she eats so delicately… no woman has ever had this kind of effect on me.

“What can I do to help?” Marissa asks, bringing my back out of my head.

“Help me lay out the blanket?” I request.

Marissa grabs one end of the picnic blanket while I grab the other. We spread the cover out, and I set the picnic basket down in the middle. We settle down, and I realize that I’ve never brought anyone else here. I’m sure plenty of people know about this spot. It isn’t that hidden. For my whole life, though, it’s felt like a sacred place that only my brother and I know about. Bringing Marissa here wasn’t something I even questioned; I just knew I needed to share this special space with her. My heart is making itself very clear to me.

“Let me help you unpack all of this,” Marissa says, opening the picnic basket. “Wow, Luca! I know that you can cook, but all of this- this is incredible! It looks fantastic.”

As we take everything out of the picnic basket, I realize that I might have overdone it a touch. But Marissa seems impressed, so I decide not to sweat it. When we have everything out, I grab the two plastic champagne flutes I brought and pour some of the sparkling grape juice into them.

“How about a toast?” I say.

“Okay,” Marissa says, smiling shyly, as she takes the glass. “What shall we toast to?”

“Us,” I say. All I want to do is take her in my arms and kiss her, but I’m grateful I have a good deal of self-control. I am confident that there will be plenty of time for that later.

“To us,” Marissa echoes.

We clink glasses and drink. There is something light, airy, and magical about the moment that I don’t want to end.

Then we dig in. Eleanor was right about what to bring. I’m relieved. Left to my own devices, I had considered making more Greek food, which might have gotten cold; or even trying to cook over a campfire. Both ideas still sound romantic to me, but they have a place for another time. I make a little mental note to file away under my ‘future dates with Marissa’ idea bank. Today, the charcuterie spread is perfect for our picnic.

I turn on my favorite playlist, and ask, “What are some of your favorite songs? I’d like to add them to my playlist.”

Marissa looks surprised by the question, but then she says, “Could you add some Laufey? I love her jazzy sound. I’m also a huge fan of Benson Boone and Stephen Sanchez, if you want to add some of theirs, too…oh, and I love Mozart, Andrea Bocelli, and Lauren Daigle… I could go on and on, you know. You asking me what my favorite songs are is like asking God what His favorite flowers are. I love music, and I have come to appreciate so many different genres and artists. I think, at times, I’m more of a mood listener and pick my song of choice to fit my mood… kind of like creating a soundtrack for that moment of my life.”

It’s obvious that music is a topic Marissa and I could discuss for hours, a heartfelt passion of hers. I’m intrigued even more, and every moment I spend with her only increases my intrigue and attraction of this beautiful woman. We continue our dinner, as the sounds of our mingled music tastes flow softly around us- classical, jazz, country, gospel, soul… we scan the whole gamut. It’s the perfect ‘soundtrack for the moment,’ as Marissa calls it.

“So now we know a little more about each other,” I say, gesturing to the speaker. “Do you want to play a game?”

“What kind of game?” Marissa asks. She seems slightly suspicious.

I laugh. “Just a getting to know you game.”

Marissa looks relieved. “Sure, okay,” she says.

“I’ll go first. Basically, I was just thinking we can ask each other silly getting-to-know-you questions, and maybe we just say the first thing that comes to our mind,” I say. “Like, what’s your favorite dessert?”

“Homemade or store bought?” she asks.

“Both,” I say.

“Homemade, I’d have to say tiramisu. Store bought? Twinkies,” Marissa says. “Okay, my turn. What is the worst injury you’ve ever gotten.”

“Easy. I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars at school, but it wasn’t just a simple broken arm. You could see my bone,” I say. “I got a lot of street cred for that one.”

“Ew,” Marissa says with a squeal of horror.

We continue the game, and I learn that she loves horses, penguins, rock hunting, and dreams of taking a cross-country road trip one day. She is extremely passionate about music, for sure. I also learn that she hates working in the restaurant, but doesn’t know yet what she wants to do with her life. The stories that stem from our questions have us both spanning our lives and sharing all kinds of memories, from young and recent, but especially ones that have to do with our families. We are laughing so hard by the end, that tears are running down both of our faces. I feel like I’ve known Marissa forever, and I hope that she feels like she knows me better now as well.

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