Page 88 of Storm and Sea

Marina didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Shame forced her chin down, her fingers twisting in knots. She mumbled something akin to, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, ‘Sorry’ doesn’t fix my dress, does it?”

“It’s a fruit-based drink. It’ll wash out,” the man said, checking his own ruined shirt.

“I’m so sorry. I can wash it for you if you’d like. I’m used to getting stains out of clothes,” Marina offered.

“I’d rather tear this dress apart and make curtains out of it before handing it over to you,” Anna spat.

It’d probably look better that way.

Behind her, the woman with the jewelry booth began slowly picking up her wares.

“Oh mio Dio, no, let me,” Marina said, bending low, “Per favore, sit. I’ll do this.”

The old woman gave a relieved nod and waddled to a seat as she held her lower back. It was a few seconds before Marina noticed the man crouching beside her, picking up the delicate silver earrings.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s her mess; let her pick it up,” Anna snapped.

“I don’t mind,” he replied.

“You don’t have to kneel in the dirt with the likes of her.”

At this, the man looked up, flashing Anna a wide smile, but Marina sensed none of the searing warmth this time.

“Why don’t you go home and take care of that stain? I think we are done here.”

Anna gaped at the obvious dismissal, shooting Marina a glare before stomping off.

Great. Just great.

“I am terribly sorry for her behavior. She was rather rude,” the man said, finding matching pairs for the scattered earrings. His hands were steady and delicate with the fragile ornaments.

“I’m used to it. Anna doesn’t like me much.”

“Anna? So that was her name,” he mused.

Marina quirked a brow. “You were on a date with her and didn’t know her name?”

He grinned flirtatiously. “I only met her tonight. And I am terrible with names, honestly. Speaking of which, might I get yours?”

“You didn’t hear Anna yelling it?”

“I’d like to hear it from your lips if you don’t mind.”

Marina didn’t know why that made her pause, and she definitely didn’t know why she was humoring him. Yet she found herself granting his request.

“Marina Marcello.”

“Marina,” the man purred, “Now that is a name I won’t forget.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.”

Marina was at a loss for words. No man had ever complimented her like this before. Feeling completely out of her element, she remained silent, unable to muster even a simple "thank you" or a follow-up question.

I’m such a weirdo.