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Ciro returned to the kitchen for more plates, so Mia leaned over and examined my plate. “He’s correct this time,” she said, sniffing. “I lovepenne arrabbiata. But beware. As my host mama says, foods are best dressed up with a little Louisiana lightning.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I said. “And English is my native language.”

“It means the food has a strong…bite,” she said.

“You mean a kick?”

“Si.” She tasted the food. “Yes, a kick. But it’s good.Deliziosa.”

I cautiously sampled the penne. It was delicious, but certainly had a kick. I looked over at Oscar, who’d taken a bite and immediately drunk water.

Slash caught my eye across the table and smiled. I gave him a thumbs-up and took another bite of the penne. The more I ate it, the less spicy it seemed.

That didn’t seem true for Oscar. After a minute, he set down his fork on his plate and dabbed his mouth again with his napkin. “This is a bit too hot for my palate.” Oscar drank more water, then abruptly stood. His face was beet red. “Excuse me, would you?” He set his napkin on his chair and walked away.

I finished off my penne. I was full even though another plate of roasted vegetables had arrived. I sat back in my chair, speared a couple of the green beans, and sipped my wine. Since Oscar was gone and Mia was chatting with Tito, no one was bothering me.

Just the way I liked it.

After a few minutes, Mia turned to me. “Where did he go?” she asked, motioning toward Oscar’s empty chair.

I shrugged. “The bathroom, maybe.”

“The bathroom is that way,” she said, pointing to the direction we’d come into the dining room. “I saw him go that way, which is where the outdoor balcony is located. Do you think he’s okay?”

How would I know? I’d just met the man, even if he was now technically my family. I glanced down the table, where his wife and my mother-in-law, Juliette, was in deep conversation with my mother. I wondered what they were talking about and sincerely hoped it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t put it past Mom to tell Slash’s mother about the temper tantrum I’d had when I was three because she wouldn’t let me take my first notebook computer into the bathtub.

Jeez. The risk of interrupting and finding out they were talking about me was too great.

“I’ll go check on Oscar.” I stood, putting my napkin in the chair like Oscar had done.

No one paid any attention to me as I walked toward the balcony. A few of the large, elegant French doors had been thrown open, and I could feel the cool breeze and smell the ocean as I exited the dining room and strolled out onto the balcony.

I shivered, pulling my sweater a little tighter around my waist, looking for Oscar. I saw a dark shape leaning over the railing toward the end of the balcony a few feet away. I hurried toward it.

“Oscar?” I said as I got closer. “Are you okay?”

His reply was the most horrible sound I’d ever heard. It was a cross between a hyena giving birth and the belching of an African hippo, and yes, I’d heard them both before. He projectile vomited over the side of the balcony, waving an arm at me in what I presumed was his way of telling me to stay back. He didn’t have to worry. I quickly moved several steps away.

After a few seconds of that horrible sound, he rested his forehead against the balcony handrail. “I didn’t know which way was the loo, but it’s too late now. Dinner didn’t agree with me. Obviously, I don’t do well with spicy food.”

Unfortunately, my stomach took that moment to churn uncomfortably. I pressed a hand against my midsection. I knew what was happening and didn’t know how to stop it.

“Oh, no. I… I’m so sorry,” I said weakly. “I have this problem.”

He lifted his head and looked at me in disbelief. “Youhave a problem?”

I didn’t have time to answer. Instead, I leaned over the balcony and threw up my entire dinner. I maintained sufficient presence of mind to calculate the wind strength, direction, and even anticipated ejection velocity to avoid any residue on my clothes. I was incapacitated for a least a minute and when I was done, I looked over in mortification at Oscar, who was staring at me with wide eyes.

Maybe I sounded like a hyena, too.

“I’m a sympathetic vomiter,” I managed, using my fingertips to wipe my mouth. “I guess Slash didn’t tell you that about me.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry heave instead. I leaned against the balcony on shaky legs.

“No, that didn’t come up in conversation,” Oscar said, still staring at me. “I’ll have to have a talk with that boy.”

Before I could say anything more, he barfed over the side again. I immediately followed suit until I could hardly breathe. We leaned against the rail, miserable and shaking, until we were startled by a voice.

“Excuse me. What’s going on out here?”