by Teri Wilson
What the hell kind of headache is this?
“Very good, Miss Arabella.” Mr. Weatherton grinned and nodded.
“Yes. Exceptional job,” Ms. Carter gushed.
Leo stared at his truffles, anxiety worming its way into the painful fog in his brain.
“Mr. Mezzanotte, the judges will now taste your offering.”
Leo made his best attempt at a smile. It hurt to move any part of his face, especially anything left of his nose. “Welcome. And thank you for your consideration.”
Weatherton bit into one of the truffles. He lifted an eyebrow, aimed a curious look at Leo and took another bite. “Nice work, Mr. Mezzanotte.”
“Thank you, sir.” Leo nodded, then thought it best to keep his head as still as possible.
“Very good.” Ms. Carter was too close, and whatever perfume she was wearing seemed to lodge in Leo’s throat.
His head began to swim. The room seemed to fade in and out, flickering like one of the many candles that surrounded him.
Keep it together. This will all be over in a few minutes.
“Thank you very much.” He squinted as the three judges blurred into six, then back down to three.
Leo pushed his thumb against his left eye socket. Oddly enough, the pressure helped. A little.
He glanced at Juliet, standing less than two feet away. She gazed impassively at the audience with her hands folded in front of her. Everything about her posture was detached, but as her cool green eyes flitted ever so briefly in his direction, he could see something there. An engaged look that spoke of secrets and, if he wasn’t mistaken, affection. It made him think that if he could lie down and rest his head in her lap, everything would be just fine.
He looked away. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to bring hellfire and damnation raining down on her by daring to interact with her in public. But on some level he was aware of the fact that he shouldn’t be thinking about resting his head in his competitor’s lap when they were on the verge of hearing who had won the chocolate fair. He wasn’t so incapacitated that he couldn’t appreciate how ridiculous that sounded.
The judges didn’t take long to come to a decision. After exchanging what appeared to be a few sentences and one or two head nods, they approached the announcer, and the deed was done.
Leo’s head began to throb with renewed intensity. He could no longer blink without feeling like his skull was about to crack down the middle. He longed for someone to hit him between the eyes with a sledgehammer and put him out of his misery.
The announcer moved toward him and Juliet, drawing out the suspense by making sure not to focus on either one of them too long. “I’d like to thank everyone in attendance for sticking with us for the exciting conclusion to the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair. As I said earlier, this is a first for us. We’ve never had a competition result in a tie before. Let’s have one last round of applause for both of our finalists.”
Please. No more clapping.
Leo took a deep breath and held it until the noise stopped.
“Our finalists were asked to duplicate the flavor of a mystery chocolate, which I can now describe as a tea-infused black currant truffle.”
Leo froze and waited for him to say something about berries. He didn’t.
“And I’m thrilled to announce that our winner once again is Miss Juliet Arabella.”
The world erupted in noise. And even though Leo could see the Arabellas jumping up and down and cheering and his own family yelling their objections to the ruling, the origins of the cacophony seemed to be coming from inside his head.
He turned to Juliet to congratulate her. She mirrored his movements, angling toward him at the same time. He reached for her hand, thinking that she looked so happy, so damned beautiful and full of life, much like she had when they’d first met in the moonlight. And as his fingertips barely grazed hers, her touch evoked the memory of what it had been like to lift the bejeweled mask and gaze upon her face for the very first time.
Time slowed. All the noise around him quieted to a soft hum. Then his fingers fell away, unable to fully grasp her hand. She was right there, looking at him with those luminous eyes of hers. So close. Yet impossible to reach.
And everything faded to black.
* * *
One minute Leo was looking at Juliet as if they were the only two people in the room, and the next his hand was slipping right through hers. She searched his gaze for an explanation of why he suddenly no longer wanted to shake her hand, and that’s when she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
His eyes were dead, lifeless. Then they closed, and his body crumpled toward the ground.
“Leo!”
She reached for him, but it was too late. Instead of breaking his fall, she went right down with him. The two of them landed on the floor of the barrel room in a tangle of limbs. Juliet somehow ended up flat on her back with Leo’s head facedown right between her breasts.
“Oh, my God. Leo, move.” She nudged him in the shoulder, but he didn’t move a muscle. “Leo, are you okay?”
“Oh, my. Mr. Mezzanotte?” The announcer didn’t seem to know what to do. He just stood there with the judges gaping at Juliet and Leo sprawled on the floor.
“Someone, do something! That lecherous loser is accosting my daughter.” Juliet’s mother leaped from her chair and practically hurdled over the row of seats in front of her. It would have been amusing had it not been so abjectly mortifying.
“He’s unconscious,” Juliet said, tapping him again. He stayed right where he was. If anything, the sheer weight of his motionless form caused his face to burrow farther into her cleavage. “See?”
She looked back up. Mom, Dad, Nico, Alegra, Joe Mezzanotte, Leo’s sister, Gina, and Gina’s husband, Marco, were standing in a circle over her, staring at Leo’s head nestled in her breasts. Only a few feet behind them, the contest judges and announcer had moved in for a closer look. As far as fainting spells went, it couldn’t have gotten any more awkward.
Then George chimed in, proving her wrong. “Unconscious? What happened?”
She didn’t want to talk to him. Especially not with Leo on top of her, awake or otherwise. So she addressed her answer to everyone else assembled. “I think he fainted.”
“In that position?” Marco blew out an incredulous huff. “Sure he did.”
Gina jammed her hands on her hips. “What is wrong with you lately? My brother is flat on the ground, unconscious. Call 9-1-1. Do something.”
Mr. Weatherton pulled a cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket.
“I just called.” George waved his iPhone in the air. “There’s an ambulance on its way.”
Joe Mezzanotte thanked him, while every member of the Arabella family pretended not to hear a word he’d said.
“I’m simply saying that’s an awfully convenient position for him to land in.” Marco crossed his arms and aimed a disbelieving glare at Juliet.
Then Leo stirred. Finally.
Juliet gave him a little shake. “Leo, are you okay?”
He groaned as if he was in pain. He lifted his head, just barely, and blinked at her with a faraway gaze. “Juliet?”
She nodded.
“Baby.” He gave her a naughty smile and dropped his head again, moving his face back and forth over her breasts. Before she could stop him, he let out another, much less painful-sounding groan.
Marco threw his hands in the air. “I rest my case.”
“Oh, my.” The announcer averted his gaze.
One of the judges snickered, and Joe Mezzanotte turned such a dark shade of crimson that Juliet worried he might pass out, too.
Juliet scrambled to get out from under Leo. It was no use. He was pretty much dead weight. And there was the added problem that his hands had begu
n to close around her waist, holding her in place underneath him.
This was definitely not the ending to the chocolate fair that she’d envisioned. Well, perhaps it was. Only not with an audience. “Leo, you really need to get up. If you can. You’re at the chocolate fair. You fainted.”
“Get off of her.” Juliet’s mom picked up Leo’s leg and tugged.
“Ouch,” he mumbled, right into her chest.
Juliet did her best to act as if a semiconscious Mezzanotte talking to her breasts at point zero range was a perfectly ordinary occurrence and tried to wave her mother away. “Mom, stop. You’re hurting him.”
“Who cares?” Nico’s voice had a distinct brotherly edge to it. “I’m on the verge of knocking him out all over again.”
Leo lifted his head, squinted and frowned at her mother. He shook his leg, and she let go. His foot flopped to the ground with a thud. “No, it’s not my leg. It’s my head. Dear God, my head hurts.”
Juliet propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him better. “You had a headache earlier in the kitchen, remember? Do you think that’s why you fainted?”
“I don’t know, baby.”
“Someone get him off of her. Right now.” Her mother had resorted to screaming, which was probably the last thing Leo’s head needed.
He groaned again. Louder this time.
“Why is he calling you baby?” Gina jammed her hands on her hips, clearly more concerned about the intimate nature of her brother’s semantics than his health.
“He fainted. He’s...disoriented. That’s all.” Juliet’s face grew hot. Her eyes darted toward Alegra.
A little help here?
“Of course,” Alegra stammered. “He’s confused. He has a head injury.”
“Well, he’s about to have another one.” Nico reached down and grabbed Leo by the shoulders, hauling him off of Juliet.
“Do not hurt him. If anyone is going to hurt him, it’s me.” Gina swatted at Nico, until he released his hold on Leo.
Leo was upright finally. Sort of. He sat on the floor slumped against a wine barrel. Gina reached down to whack him in the head, and he pushed her hand away.
He kept his arms up like a boxer in a prize fight, just in case she wasn’t finished. “Enough with the hitting.”
“Gina, stop hitting your brother.” Leo’s uncle Joe made a feeble attempt at restraining her.
“Yeah, my head hurts enough as it is. Why are you so bent out of shape? What the hell did I do?”
“Her!” Gina pointed a furious finger at Juliet.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. Juliet wondered if anyone would notice if she crawled under the banquet table and stayed there until the ambulance arrived. Given that every eye in the room was now glued on her, probably. She scrambled to her feet, figuring it would be easier to face this situation with dignity if she weren’t sprawled on the floor. Besides, if she were standing, it would be easier to run away from Gina if the need arose. From the looks of things, fleeing was more a matter of when, not if.
“Gina.” Leo still looked groggy, but he managed to inject a warning in his tone nonetheless.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe this.” Gina shook her head and aimed a pointed glare at her husband. “She’s the café au lait, isn’t she?”
“The café au lait?” Juliet’s dad echoed.
“The café au lait!” Joe Mezzanotte clutched at his chest.
Nico raised his brows and shrugged. “I could use a café au lait right about now. That sounds good.”
Gina gaped at him. “That’s disgusting. She’s your sister.”
“Why is everyone talking about café au lait? I don’t get it.” Alegra threw her arms up in the air.
Even Juliet had begun to lose track of the conversation. She didn’t know any better than Alegra why everyone was talking about coffee. And she especially didn’t know why they seemed to be comparing that coffee to her. But she had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t good.
“Marco.” Leo shook his head, winced, then squeezed his eyes shut. “Thanks a lot. I’ll remember this next time you need me to keep a secret.”
“Secret? What secret?” Juliet’s mom had grown very pale in the past few minutes. She was as white as Joe Mezzanotte was red.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t say anything, Sparkle,” Alegra said. It was all Juliet could do to stop herself from clamping a hand over her mouth. “So don’t even think about taking back my iPad.”
“Sparkle?” Leo’s uncle Joe and Gina said in unison.
“I didn’t say a word either, bro. You’re the one who let the cat out of the bag when you practically had sex with her right there on the floor.” Marco smirked at Juliet.
His words pretty much cleared things up. Café au lait, iPads and sparkly nicknames aside, everyone in the room finally realized exactly what was going on.
Juliet braced herself for yelling, screaming and, especially in Gina’s case, physical violence. Which only made the ensuing silence even harder to digest.
No one said a word. Not her mother, not her father, not Joe Mezzanotte. Not even Gina. By all appearances, each one of them seemed too shocked to utter a syllable. But words weren’t necessary for Juliet to feel the tidal wave of disappointment, judgment and condemnation crashing down on her. Her father couldn’t even meet her gaze. Someone sniffled, and to Juliet’s horror, she realized it was her mother. She couldn’t remember seeing her mother cry before. Ever.
George cleared his throat, walked to his chair and returned with a flat manila envelope. Silently, he tore it in two and tossed the pieces in Leo’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said, his voice rough with pain. “I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t talking to George, however. He was looking right at Juliet.
Tears clouded her vision, and as she looked into his eyes, all she could remember was the way she’d felt that night when he’d held her face in his hands and whispered the impossible—and everything between them had changed.
You’re Juliet. And I’m Leo. It’s just the two of us here. No one else.
But that was no longer true, was it?
They were surrounded by people, all of whom wanted them apart. Even the ghosts of their pasts were conspiring against them. Juliet could feel the disapproving presence of their grandmothers looming over them as much as those whom she could reach out and touch. Maybe even more so.
The paramedics rushed in, and once again, chaos ruled the room. They bent over Leo, shining lights in his eyes and talking to him in loud voices. Everyone started talking, providing the EMTs with their own version of what had happened. In all the confusion, someone stepped on Juliet’s foot. She wasn’t even sure who it was. Her chest grew tight, and she had trouble catching her breath.
Just you and me, remember. No one else.
Without a doubt, she’d never stood in a more crowded room.
18
Two trips to an emergency room in less than two weeks. Leo wondered if it might be some kind of record.
Granted, the first time had been for Juliet’s dog. But it still counted, especially once Leo found out that his diagnosis wasn’t unlike Cocoa’s.
“Mr. Mezzanotte.” The ER doctor, who’d downed at least five cups of coffee since hooking Leo up to an IV and running every test at his disposal, frowned at the clipboard in his hand. “I think I’ve finally gotten down to the root of your problem.”
“Exactly which problem would that be? I suddenly find myself with more than my fair share.” He was only half joking.
As much as he disliked being poked and prodded for the entire afternoon and most of the night, Leo considered his curtained-off area of the emergency room a little slice of heaven. Uncle Joe, Gina and Marco had all insisted on accompanying him to the hospital, and as far as he kn
ew, they were still camped out in the waiting room. Whenever he got out of here, he would have all three of them to contend with. His crippling headache was sure to make a speedy return. He wondered if he could take his IV with him when he left.
He was fairly sure they were so upset to learn about his relationship with Juliet that they’d forgotten he’d also lost the competition at the chocolate fair. He furrowed his brow. Relationship wasn’t quite the right word, was it? If what they had was a relationship, it had to be the most dysfunctional one on record. Especially now that the lid had so spectacularly blown off the whole thing. He had a feeling it would be a long, long time before he found himself back in Juliet’s bed. If ever.
He suddenly felt sick again, and it had nothing to do with his headache.
The doctor glanced up from the clipboard. “I’m talking about your migraine, of course.”
“Of course.” Leo nodded, feeling faintly nauseous.
His headache had been labeled a migraine within minutes of his arrival, due mostly to the fact that it was concentrated on one side of his head, and the bright lights of the hospital made it exponentially worse.
“It’s good news. You’re not suffering from any major health problems.” The doctor smiled and tucked the clipboard under his arm. “I’m afraid your fainting spell, which was brought on by the severe pain in your head, was simply a result of your chocolate allergy.”
Leo blinked. Just what kind of hallucinogens had they put in his IV drip? “I’m sorry. I must have misheard you. I thought you said chocolate allergy.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
The metallic taste was returning to Leo’s mouth. “But I’m not allergic to chocolate.”
“I’m afraid you are. Quite allergic, in fact.” The doctor pulled a pen from the pocket of his white coat, circled something on his clipboard and shoved it in Leo’s direction.
Patient has tested positive for a level five chocolate allergy.
