Page 21 of Falling for my Family's Rival

My mom looks up at me with a smile. She’s generally a calm, generous-spirited woman who doesn’t jump to conclusions or rush judgements. If there is a counterbalance to my father’s rashness, it is this woman.

“Luca,” she says warmly. “What brings you in this morning? I thought you weren’t working until later.”

“I was on the schedule for nine,” I say.

She frowns at me. “No, you weren’t. I did the schedule myself this week. I had you coming in at three.”

I decide not to argue with her, because it won’t do any good, and there always is the chance that I might not be right. It doesn’t matter anyway. I need to figure out how I’m going to convey my whole bizarre conversation with my father to her.

“So, Dad seems out of sorts today,” I start, changing the subject as gently as I can.

“Does he?” she asks.

“He does,” I say. “He kind of lost his temper with the produce delivery driver. It was not a good look for the restaurant.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. Everything about her goes still, and I know that’s my cue to go. She’s getting upset, but I need her to understand how bad it was.

“Just that the delivery guy wasn’t at fault, and Dad was screaming at him for things out of the guy’s control,” I say, pushing forward. “I think that something is really bothering him. And…he keeps blaming Little Italy for every problem that has happened here since the food poisoning.”

“Luca, your father has every right to be concerned that another restaurant might be out to sabotage us,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Right, of course. Sorry, Mom,” I say. “I think I’m going to step out for a few minutes. But then I’m going to come in and work my shift.”

I step out of the restaurant, feeling disheartened by my interaction with my mother. I had hoped that she would step in and fix everything. Since that didn’t happen, I know that I need to call Marissa.

I wait anxiously as the phone rings. Urgently, I silently will Marissa to pick up. When she does, I don’t even bother with a greeting. “We need to get together to talk about this mess between our families,” I say.

“Hello to you, too,” she says. “Did something happen to make you think we need to do it sooner?”

“My father is losing it,” I say. “He’s on a weird conspiracy kick now. We have to do something to end this nonsense.”

“I agree,” she says. “Let’s compare notes over pizza later today?”

We decide I should pick her up at the library again, after our shifts at work are over. There’s a pizza place in Grand Junction, about forty minutes away that will be perfect. No one should recognize us there. That would defeat the purpose of us getting together in the first place. I mean, seeing Marissa is thrilling, but this is getting out of hand. We need to figure this out before our family fued ruins our relationship.

Fourteen

MARISSA

Ikeep glancing around to make sure that no one is paying attention to me. There aren’t a ton of people going in and out of the library at this time of day. Most people are home for dinner, but the street is busy enough that someone could easily see me. Any other day, any other life frankly, I would be so excited to be going to dinner with Luca; but I know that this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. Figuring out how to bring our families together, to end their senseless feud, is the only way we are going to be able to have a future together. And if we can’t think of a solution? I don’t even want to think about that.

By the time I see Luca’s car coming down the street, I’m a nervous wreck. My stomach is in knots, and I keep thinking about the fact that my father has been enraged for days about something that isn’t even true. I’m hopeful that the two of us can come up with some way to make all of this go away. I wonder what I would be thinking, if I had never met Luca at the ball. Would I have bought into the paranoia?

Luca pulls up to the curb, and before he has a chance to get out and open the door for me, I already have my hand on the door handle. I slide into the passenger seat, and flash him a tense smile. He responds with a grimace of his own. Clearly neither of us is looking forward to this conversation.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I say.

“We have to figure this out,” Luca responds. His tone is curt, but belies more of his stress than anything else. I try not to take it personally.

“We do,” I agree. “Before everything explodes.”

We drive most of the way to Grand Junction in silence. I find myself resenting the fact that we have to drive so far just to go out to dinner, to have a semi private conversation. The very real threat of someone seeing us together and that info getting back to our families is going to constantly be hanging over our heads - unless we find a real solution.

We order as soon as we get seated, and right away Luca says, “I’m really concerned that there might be some truth to what my father thinks is happening.”

Right away, I feel my defenses kick into high gear, but I decide to push them aside and remain calm. I need to hear him out. That’s the whole point of having a conversation. It isn’t that I don’t want to defend my family, but right now might not be the best time.

“What exactly does your father think is happening?” I ask.

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