It was as if Clarissa had known this moment would come. Everything was against it—her family, his family, the simmering feud that had been going on for years over a failed business partnership, even geography. Damon lived in a townhouse in Georgetown; she had a one-room apartment in Oakland she could barely afford on her salary as a barista. Good thing she had a scholarship or Berkeley would have been out of the question.
But suddenly he was here, at her door, with roses and a ring, his Maserati idling at the curb. God, he looked good. Maybe the past could be overcome. His smile said so; her answering heart echoed yes, and then they were one.
[Aauuggh! Barf! Ick! Save them if you can!]