Page 22 of Falling for my Family's Rival

“Lots of little things are going wrong,” Luca says. “The biggest of which is obviously the food poisoning allegations that he has made.”

“So, just to clarify, your father still thinks that my family had something to do with the food poisoning at Venetian Dreams?” I say.

Luca nods. “That’s the gist of it.”

“Okay,” I say, exhaling as much anger as I can manage to get out of my system at the moment. “Two questions: how exactly does your father think that my family did that? And what of his allegations do you believe, Luca?”

There is a long silence, only punctuated by sounds from the restaurant around us. Several couples are having their own private conversations over their meals; a family is excitedly celebrating their son’s birthday; a young couple holds hands and gazes adoringly into each others’ eyes over their pizza; a mother tries unsuccessfully to comfort and quiet down her overly-tired toddler, who then suddenly flips his plate of pasta onto the floor in protest… I sigh wearily. Life just plots on as usual, offering no special pause or acknowledgement of our unjust plight.

Finally Luca sighs and slumps back against the booth. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Marissa,” he says. “I just don’t know. That’s the answer I have to both questions. I don’t know how my father thinks your family caused the food poisoning, and I don’t know if I believe it or not.”

“But you said you were starting to think the allegations might be true,” I say. “I don’t understand how you could believe that my family would be capable of something like that. Especially when you know that things have been going wrong at Little Italy, too. And my father thinks that it’s your family doing it, but I’ve never entertained the thought that it might be your family.”

“You haven’t, huh?” Luca says, slightly raising one of his eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. There is something in his tone that I really don’t like.

“There hasn’t been one moment, not even one, where you even possibly wondered if my family might have something to do with the stuff happening at your restaurant?” he demands.

I sigh. “Fine. Maybe there have been a few moments where it did cross my mind, but I never seriously entertained the idea. For one thing, it’s absurd. How would your family coordinate such things? Even when I wondered if there was a way, my logical side won out, and I realized that I was just putting coincidental things together.”

“This just makes me realize how little we actually know about each other,” Luca says.

The words hit me like a crushing blow to my chest. I feel real pain, and my eyes flood with tears. Here is the man that I’m in love with, accusing my family of horrible things, and there seems to be nothing that I can do about it. I don’t know how to respond, so I just sit there staring at him. My mind goes numb.

Our conversation is further interrupted by the waitress bringing us our pizza, half cheese for me and half sausage for him. Luca thanks her in a subdued tone, but I can’t even bring myself to look at her. I wonder what she’s thinking, as she walks away from the table.

I’ve seen plenty of couples break up at dinner. Sometimes I can tell the second I walk up that it’s a break-up dinner, based on how one of the people is acting. Other times, it seems to come out of nowhere. I wonder if she thinks we’re breaking up. Are we?

“I can’t believe how naive you’re being,” he says in a low voice laced with anger. “Unless you’re complicit in the whole thing.”

My jaw drops open. I can’t believe how unhinged he sounds. “Are you kidding me?” I snap, swiping tears from my eyes with the heel of my hand. “What about you? You’re acting like a paranoid conspiracy theorist.”

“Paranoid? Look at the evidence, Marissa,” he says, my name coming out as a hiss.

“What evidence?” I demand. “The fact that both of our fathers are accusing the other? The fact that things are going wrong at both restaurants? Things go wrong in commercial kitchens all the time. That doesn’t mean that it’s sabotage!”

When I finish speaking, I’m breathing hard. I think I’ve kept my voice low enough so the other customers aren’t able to hear me. I literally can’t believe that we are in the middle of this conversation right now. I had thought that when we sat down for dinner, we would have a nice, civilized discussion, where we brainstormed ways to make our families come together. I never imagined that Luca was starting to believe what his father was saying; starting to insinuate that even I might be a part of it!

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“Honestly, if you think about it, my father does make sense,” Luca says.

“What do you mean?” I look down at the pizza, growing cold, the cheese congealing unappealingly on the top. It’s the perfect metaphor for how sad this evening has been.

“Little Italy always seems to be a step ahead of Venetian Dreams,” Luca says. “Now you’re getting into catering, right? The ball was the first test run? I bet you didn’t know that my parents have been thinking about getting into catering for years. Or did you?”

“You have got to be kidding me. My parents have had the catering plan for as long as I can remember. They only recently decided to pursue the loan to start that operation. They didn’t consider themselves financially stable enough before.”

“Likely story,” Luca says.

I bark out a surprised laugh. There is no way this is not some kind of convoluted dream. I even pinch the back of my hand to see if I’m awake. The pain informs me that yes, I am indeed awake. So the bizarreness of this conversation is actually happening.

“Luca,” I say in a pleading tone. I am not going to let this spiral anymore without trying to bring things back to reality at least. “This is getting ridiculous. This isn’t why we came here today.”

Luca frowns at me, then lets out a huge sigh. “I know,” he says. “I didn’t intend for any of this to go the way it is. It’s just… I feel so much pressure from my father, you know? He fully expects me to take over the business, and anytime I disagree with him, it’s like I’m being this horribly disloyal son.”

“I have a lot of the same pressures,” I say. “I think that’s one of the reasons we’ve been able to understand each other so well.”

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