Hello LAlaland (Lost in LAlaland) by Madi Merek

ladies,” he said, nodding first at Marci and then locking eyes with me once again. “What a pleasure to have you dine with us tonight.” My breath caught at the formality of his words. “I hope you’ll enjoy the antipasto. I’ve been told it’s the best in the city.”
    “Your mother is biased, Anthony,” Marci teased, humor filling her voice to lighten the situation.
    His tight pretense threatened to fall as his lips lifted slightly. “Yes, well, an Italian Mama always knows best, doesn’t she? Besides, it’s her recipe, so I can’t—”
    “Tony,” I cut in, exhausted with the charade we’d been a part of for months. “I . . .” My words trailed off, and I was unsure of what exactly to say. “May I talk to you for a few minutes?” I finally asked.
    I watched his jaw clench again as he ground his back teeth together. Pain flashed through his eyes, and I inhaled sharply knowing that I had caused it. Though he contemplated for several moments, he finally shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I had time to catch up with an old friend tonight . . .” I recoiled as though I had been slapped. Friends? This was all my doing. I cursed myself for my stupidity. “Unfortunately, Friday nights are one of our busiest, so I won’t have any time to spare. Forgive me, ladies, but I should be getting back to work.”
    I sat in stunned horror at the brusque dismissal. Tears brimmed my eyes, threatening to spill over the floodgates. I threw my napkin on the table and slid out of the booth. I couldn’t do this. I had to get out.
    I ran from the restaurant and out onto the rainy sidewalk. It took only seconds for my dress to be soaked through and for my hair to stick in tangled, drenched locks to my skin. My salty tears mixed and faded in with the rain as it dripped down my face.
      For several blocks, I ran as fast as my alligator pumps would carry me, until strong hands gripped me, spinning me around and pressing me against a brick wall. I screamed out in distress, assuming I was about to be mugged or worse, but Tony’s hand covered my mouth. His face was dark and stormy, rivaling the sky in its thundering ferocity.
    “Why do you think you can do this to me again, Wini?” he yelled, pulling his hand away and pushing it into his hair. Yelling was good. Yelling meant passion. Passion meant love. Then again, passion could also mean hatred, but judging by the look in his eyes—the lust and anger brewing in a vicious toxin—I knew it was not hatred that was possessing him.
    Tony’s white, cotton shirt hugged his tanned, muscular body as the rain soaked through, and the water flattened his carefully styled hair. I tried to reach up to brush a strand of his drenched locks away from his forehead, but he growled, catching my hand and pinning it back to the wall with scraping force.
    “Don’t.” His words were venomous and wounded. The blood drained away from my face and my heart stammered out a choked rhythm as I wondered if I’d mistaken his passion and it was indeed hatred. But then, Tony’s face softened, and I looked down at the rain dripping down his neck. “Just . . . don’t you dare touch me. Not unless you’re planning on staying and making this work. I can’t do it again if you won’t let me in. I love you too much to watch you be miserable in your life without even knowing it. I could give you something your money and your career never could, but you won’t let me.”
    My eyes snapped up to his. He was injured—damaged—and I’d hurt him in unforgivable ways, but he wanted to extend another chance to me. Realization of the love he truly felt began to register in my mind. The profoundness of the moment echoed inside   me.
    “I-I’m a mess right now,” I cried through my tears. “I’m completely undone, and it’s because I know that I’ve destroyed everything. I’ve been trying to erase you and take back everything we could’ve been or had, but . . .”
    A strangled, painful