Page 7 of Falling for my Family's Rival

“I’m sorry,” Marissa says in a hiss of breath. “I just can’t deal with any more drama about this place.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. I wasn’t expecting that response. As she catches my expression, something in her face changes. Then she gasps. “Oh my goodness,” she says.

“What?” This is definitely not where I thought that this conversation was going. She almost looks like she’s seen a ghost. I never knew what that expression meant before, but now, suddenly, I do.

“Lou?” Marissa says with just enough incredulity in her voice that I can tell she’s possibly hoping it isn’t true.

As soon as she says the name, the full weight of recognition hits me. “Mari?” I reply, and then burst out laughing. I can’t help myself. The situation is so absurd. A moment later, Marissa joins me. “Why did you give me a fake name?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to spoil the moment with full reality.”

“Fair enough,” I reply.

We stand there on the sidewalk staring at each other, and I wonder what she’s feeling. This moment of recognition has set off a whole bunch of feelings inside of me that I’m not sure how to deal with. I honestly want to take a step forward and kiss her, but thinking about my family holds me back. Just because I find her attractive doesn’t mean that I want to betray my family for her.

But it’s more than that. I don’t just find her attractive, I feel a connection to her. Deeper than any I have ever felt with another woman, and that was before I even knew her real name. That has to mean something. One second these feelings are winning out, and then the next I think about how angry my father looked, as he told us about the food poisoning accusations. We’ve dealt with things like this in the past, and it doesn’t look good that we’re dealing with them again. I can’t hurt my family, so I know what the only solution is.

“It’s not going to be a popular realization that the two of us have already met,” I say.

Marissa nods in agreement, sending her curls flying in every direction possible. The motion makes her look even more beautiful than before. “I agree,” she says. “No one actually needs to know about the ball. That’s the beauty of masks. We get to remain anonymous.”

“Right, we’ll just never mention this to anyone,” I say. “That shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

We look at each other, and at that moment, I can tell that she has her doubts about my statement, just like I do. I know that I’m lying to myself. This won’t be easy in any regard. As long as I don’t have to be anywhere near Marissa, I think I should be able to keep my feelings stuffed down and hidden away. It will be a lot harder to deal with these feelings if I keep seeing her.

“That sounds like the best plan,” Marissa says, but I think that I can hear a hint of regret in her voice. Then she continues, “But my family hasn’t done anything wrong, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t spread rumors like that around.”

And with that, Marissa turns and hurries back into Little Italy, leaving me standing on the sidewalk alone, thinking that I’d still like to kiss her.

Six

MARISSA

Over the next few days, I can't stop thinking about Luca. Looking back at the ball, it seems so obvious that it was Luca all along. I feel like I should have recognized him, especially because of his eyes. He has the dreamiest eyes, and they were clearly visible through his mask. Lou. I can’t believe that he did the exact same thing as me and gave a fake name.

“Earth to Marissa.” Chiara snaps her fingers in front of my face. Rude.

“What?” I ask, barely able to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“You have customers, “ Chiara says. She gestures over her shoulder. Sure enough, two of my tables have been filled.

“Thanks,” I say. I try not to be annoyed. This is my job after all.

Chiara is off from the hospital for three days in a row, and she chose to come in to the restaurant to play hostess. If I were her, I would be soaking in all that freedom. I would not be volunteering my precious free time to be at Little Italy.

That probably makes me a bad daughter. I just want to find something of my own that I can be passionate about. I love my family, and I definitely want the restaurant to keep being successful. It's just…I also want to start living my own life.

Pulling up a smile, I approach the first new table of customers. “Hi, folks,” I say. “Can I get you started with a drink or an appetizer?”

The man smiles at me. “Sure, I'll have a Coke, and can we get some garlic bread to start?”

“And for you, Miss?” I ask.

The woman flushes slightly. Not everyone likes being called miss or ma'am. I generally take a guess at their age.

“Just water,” she says.

“Sounds good,” I say, before moving on to the next table.

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