Till Nuts Do Us Part

Summary

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water.

Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing.

Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing.

One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti.

I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead.