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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 forhim.
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?"
Nowis my chance to keep my promise to God.
Nowis 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.
"Nonnasays 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...thisthingbetween 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 tofamiglie) 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 withLa Strega''sgrandson. 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.
