Four

IT'S A brAND NEW DAY that the Lord has made, I remind myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror the next day. God and I had a really long heart-to-heart talk last night. I prayed, and He spoke to me through His word. Now I know what I have to do.

If I'm serious about fully rejoicing and being glad in this new day, then I must have the courage to at the very least explore the possibility that Ezio Marchetti is indeed one of the reasons God has saved my life by making me invisible.

Or at least that's the plan...until I come out of my bedroom to join the others for breakfast, and God being God, of course, it has to be him who's coming down the same flight of stairs at the exact same time I do.

Why are You in such a hurry, God?

Sunlight streaming from the stairwell windows makes me shield my gaze, but my hopes are dashed when I glance back at Ezio.

Ugh.

He still dazzles even under normal lighting, and how is it that he looks even more beautiful in his casual wear? Cashmere sweater and jeans, never mind if they're just as elegant and expensive as the tux he had worn last night, should have made Ezio look more human. But it's as if the simplicity of his clothes is meant to make him stand out more, and—-

"Buongiorno."

I know I should've expected that. A Marchetti is not a Marchetti without manners, and of course, I should have expected him to greet me first. But I didn't, and so hearing his honey-smooth voice address me in Italian almost makes me jump out of my skin.

I just really don't get it, God.

I know you don't make mistakes.

But how can someone like this man...and someone like me...make sense?

I square my shoulders. Remember your promise, Cat. And so I open my mouth and hear myself say in my best headmistress voice, " Buongiorne, signore ." And then I actually find myself nodding to him like we're in our own version of the Cold War, and I'm already mentally banging my head against an imaginary wall as I turn and proceed downstairs ahead of him.

What the heck just happened, Cat?

I'm still berating myself when I make it to the dining room and join the Marchettis for breakfast. It's all part of La Strega wanting to annoy me, and I humor her...for the most part. It's only for special occasions like someone's birthday that I draw the line and insist on giving the famiglia privacy.

We'll just have to try again, I tell myself. Just like La Strega was known to say in her first (and admittedly bloodiest) year reigning as monarch of Boston's underworld: if you miss your target with your first shot, all you need to do is get a bigger gun or one with scope or—-

Erase, erase, erase.

I don't think that's the kind of analogy that will get God on my side.

Just be yourself, Cat.

That's the key, isn't it?

Just ignore all the what-ifs that can distract me, and all the variables and background noise, and I should be okay.

Right?

Right.

I take my usual seat at the table, which I'm relieved to find is already occupied by the other Marchettis. Sarica and Ezio enter the dining room at the same time, and that's when I realize that one of the two remaining vacant seats is next to me.

Oh no.

I try not to talk and draw attention to myself when I'm with the Marchettis, but this is an emergency, and desperation overrules my inhibitions. But just as I open my mouth to call out to Sarica, La Strega has already addressed Ezio, saying, "Go sit next to Cat, bambino. I'm sure you have much to talk about after what happened last night."

Words of concern and comfort pour out from every side as Ezio takes the seat next to me.

'I wanted to go to your room to check on you, but Signora Marchetti says we should let you rest.'

'And rightly so, ' drawls Massimo. 'You do not exactly have perfect bedside manners, Sarica.'

'You must take lessons on self-defense.

'I think you mean she's to take swimming lessons, Cesare,' Gazelle, La Strega's only granddaughter, corrects her older brother with a helpless. 'Not every accident is an attempt on our lives.'

'I take full responsibility for what happened, Cattleya. Rest assured that such lapses in our security have already been addressed and will not happen again.'

The apology, on the other hand, was from Giancarlo, whose usual gravitas makes me feel like I'm a lowly peasant being asked to pardon my king.

But you're okay now, right?

Should she not still be in bed, nonna?

Sì, maybe it is not a good idea that she is out of bed so soon.

One of the staff can serve her breakfast in bed.

To say that I'm overwhelmed at this point is a vast understatement. I'm not used to being the center of attention this much. Or this long.

Help, God!

And before I've even finished my silent prayer, the only other person who has yet to speak a word is already leaning forward and quietly reminding everyone that such fussing will leave anyone suffocated.

Aaargh.

This is the second time he's saved me, and while I know this can only be a sign from God, and it can't get any clearer than that—-

I just need another second, God.

The other Marchettis good-naturedly apologize, and their grandmother deliberately turns everyone's attention away from me with a few choice words.

"What is this I hear about Massimo and a college student?"

Everyone, that is, except for him.

His unnerving gaze remains on mine, and courtesy alone leaves me no choice but to meet the gaze of the man who saved me from death.

"You are feeling better, truly?"

Now is my chance to keep my promise to God.

Now is my chance to explore what could be.

And so I...nod.

But before I can turn away and busy myself with something else, he's already speaking again.

" Nonna says you have been with us for a few months now."

I nod again.

"And that you are being trained to work as her personal assistant?"

I nod for the third time.

"Is it normal for you to be this silent? Or is there something I did to make you feel uncomfortable?"

I've just taken a sip of water when I hear his question, and I end up choking so hard that everyone ends up fussing over me again.

Aaaargh.

Ezio no longer makes any attempt to speak to me for the rest of the meal, and frustration steadily builds inside of me as days turn into weeks. Finding out whether this...this thing between him and me is real should've been easy. So why isn't it? Why do I keep failing and failing and failing?

I'm not so blind or ungrateful that I don't realize how countless girls in the whole of New England would die (or kill, if we're talking about girls with connections to famiglie ) for a chance to spend time with Ezio Marchetti, much more to live under the same roof with him.

I've heard of girls actually having to meticulously plan months in advance for a contrived meeting with La Strega?'s grandson. And then there's me, who doesn't have to worry about Ezio thinking I have the hots for him. I work for his grandmother, and that gives me all the excuses I need to talk to him.

But instead of making the most out of this God-given privilege...

I stuck to Sarica like glue every meal so I don't ever have to be seated next to him again.

I signed up for additional electives in school and volunteered for every community outreach program there is.

I did everything I could that would keep me away from home without being obvious about how I was avoiding him.

I didn't want to give him any reason to think I was uncomfortable with him, but I still ended up betraying myself when the Marchettis had their annual ice skating competition at Frog Pond, and I quickly pretended to break my ankle when I realized they were about to pair me off with Ezio.

That should've been the end of it...until I caught the scent of apple cider donuts suddenly wafting in the wintry air.

Mmmm!

I was already halfway to my favorite food stand when I realized my mistake.

Aaaaargh!

And the only person who saw me run like a triathlon athlete at that time?

God only disciplines whom He loves, and it's His way of teaching me a lesson for lying through my teeth.

Sigh .

I know I should accept divine defeat at this point, but I can't.

I choose to hobble on one foot for the rest of the way, but this also backfires on me when I end up slipping and having an accident.

For real.

And so I ended up sidelined for the rest of the holidays.

I'm sorry, God.

I just need more time.

And who knows?

Maybe I'm misunderstanding things, and your plans for Ezio and me have nothing to do with our hearts?

So I prayed and prayed for more time.

But when the day finally came that I was ready to give things another try—-

Sarica looks at me in surprise when I casually ask her about Ezio.

"Oh, you haven't heard? He's flown back to New York. There are things he needs to do there for famiglia ."