Page 131 of His Two Hidden Masks

“You are saying that one mention from you and that’s it, everything sells?”

“Well,” Dylan looked sheepish, “promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Leo may have sold some of your candies at my merch table.”

My eyes widened. “Your merch table,” I repeated. “First, why I am just now hearing about your merch table.”

“Everyone has merch.” Dylan shrugged and pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. Next to the t-shirts, hoodies, and CDs was a stack of the Carnival-packaged caramels and a sign that read, “Bella Baci.”

“We didn’t have many. It was Leo’s idea, mostly,” he said. “Actually, all of it. It was brilliant.”

“Wasn’t it also Leo’s idea to marry me,” I said.

“He is a very creative man,” Dylan deadpanned. “And that was my idea. He was the first to agree with me. Let the record stand.”

I blinked at the picture, remembering Dylan in his element, singing for me, singing for himself, singing for his fans. The night had been impossibly beautiful and surreal. The idea that Dylan and Leo had conspired to share my love of Bella Baci filled my eyes with tears.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at him. “You didn’t tell me you were trying to help me.”

“You don’t need my help,” Dylan said. “You’ve got this. You always did. I was just sharing the hard work you have already done.”

“They all sold?”

“All of them,” Paolo said. “Every last box. I sent Vincenzo into the walk-in twice to make sure we hadn’t missed any. The crowds were quite demanding. I wanted to give them what they wanted.”

“I have a business,” I whispered, throwing my arms around Dylan.

“You have a real business,” Dylan said. “You have people who want your products. You are officially an entrepreneur and this is just the beginning.”

I buried my face in his neck, his heartbeat thumping beneath my ear. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me or ask me to sell them.”

“Technically, this is a lie by omission which I know is still a lie,” he said. “I promise you there will be no more impromptu chocolate sales or groom switches without your consent.”

“I don’t think I’m going to consent to that second one,” I said, zooming in on the merch table.

“You still sell CDs? At the very least, you should sell limited edition vinyl. CDs make you seem like a hundred. Wait, how old are you?” I said, realizing this was one of many questions I still needed to ask my husband.

Dylan laughed. “I’m ancient. I’m thirty-four, darling, but don’t worry. I age like fine wine or high-quality whiskey.”

Paolo leaned forward. “I started a list with the name, number, and email of people who want to come back today to buy boxes. The phone won’t stop ringing. Some people call for Bella Baci and end up making a reservation.”

“I have to make more.” My heart beat faster with excitement. “I need to go to the kitchen.”

“Now? Right now?” Dylan said.

“Yes. Now.”

“Okay, you’re the boss,” Dylan said. “There goes my wife, back into the kitchen.” He winked at Paolo.

“Your wife for now.” I swatted his arm.

That afternoon,I silenced all my worries and made chocolates. My mother instructed the sous chefs to prep in another area of the kitchen. I asked Lissa to help me, and together, we made tray after tray of Bella Baci.

I dipped the caramel into chocolate, thinking of my business. I rolled the caramel in smoked sea salt thinking of my sister. I placed the chocolates into boxes, nestling them in beautifulpaper thinking of my mother and the way she protected me from the truth about her marriage.

In the end her lies melted like butter in a copper pan. I wished she had trusted herself enough to tell me the truth earlier. We lost years together. I didn’t want to miss any more.

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