Page 11 of Love Arranged
Don’t worry about it.
Ana
Please. The only thing I’m worried about is the way I’ll react in public once we finally meet.
Ana is offline
Lorenzo
Up until yesterday, I loved a good challenge. Ithrivedoff them, but then Ana came along, calling my bluff when she threatened to go home tonight with another man should I not show up.
I knew it then that I lost the game, and after tonight, I’ll lose her for good.
She was never yours to keep.
Ignoring the knot of unease growing in my chest, I slip my mask over my face and enter the crowded bar. I’ve never seen Last Call this packed before, the entire space full of people wearing a variety of costumes, all of which required far more effort than my plain black shirt, jeans, and light-up mask with neon blue stitching for the eyes and mouth.
I search the room full of people for the woman who has plagued my mind since she first messaged me. I’ve spent two months wondering if every woman I talk to isher.
Two months of overthinking. Ofdenial. Of me trying to distance myself from Ana, who was someone I had no business pursuing once I determined I would never choose her to be my fake fiancée.
Icouldn’t.
I tried to let her go, but I failed. Then I tried again, only to end up right where Ana wants me, searching the dance floor for a woman dressed in a pink, sparkly dress and matching cowboy hat.
I tell myself to stick to the perimeter. That if I don’t find her in five minutes, I’ll take it as a sign.
Fate must enjoy making a mockery of my life, because the moment I start the countdown, the crowd begins to part. It’s as if someone drove an invisible wedge down the center of the dance floor, separating people to reveal Ana at the center, a glow from a random spotlight shining down on her.
Or should I call herLiliana.
My heart, which has been acting up ever since I walked into the bar, picks up speed, the bass from the loud music adding to the intense pulsing sensation in my ears.
I take a step back, and then another, only to stumble on my third when Lily locks eyes with me.
Everyone else fades away, as if they were banished into darkness as her bright, carefree smile grows, stretching her perfectly plump lips. I’m stunned, my useless body on standby as she heads over to me.
Her steps are confident as she walks in my direction, all while I stare, trying to make sense of the fact that my Ana is none other than Liliana Muñoz.
It must be a trick. It doesn’t make sense that someone who attracts positive attention and exudes kindness with every interaction likesme. If it weren’t for Lily clearly recognizing my mask, I would’ve thought her costume is only a coincidence.
In all the scenarios I’ve imagined, Ana wasn’t the same ethereal woman whose smile dazzled me nearly a year ago when she slid into the empty seat beside me at church, her brown eyes warm and welcoming as they swept over me.
“So you’re the one everyone is talking about this week,”she says.
“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage because I have no idea who you are.”
Her smile remains, somehow even brighter than before. “Lily Muñoz.” She holds her hand out, and I hesitate to reach for it. I don’t like to touch others unless necessary, but the longer her hand hangs in the air, the more inclined I am to grab it.
When I do, an excited current of unfamiliar energy shoots up my arm, zapping away all worried thoughts about physical contact.
“Lorenzo Vittori.” My voice drops an octave.
“Nice to meet you, Lorenzo,” she replies, my name sounding like pure sin from her luscious lips.
“So,” I whisper. “I feel compelled to ask: What exactlyarepeople saying about me?”
She laughs—a sound that makes me feel closer to heaven than any religious service or gospel. “I don’t like to gossip.”
