Page 46 of No Stone Unturned

“Thank you for seeing me. I guess that means Slash mentioned me.”

“Of course. You’re the girl who won his heart.”

A tiny bubble of happiness surfaced inside me. It meant a lot to me that Slash had told Father Armando about our relationship. I figured the priest would be grateful to hear the same words. “Slash talks about you, too, Father. You’re very important to him.”

For some reason, instead of happiness, my comment caused a sad expression to cross his face. Before I could wonder why, he gently took my bags from me, setting them on an empty chair.

“Come, Miss Carmichael, let us take a walk in the garden.”

I thought it an odd request, especially since it was beyond hot outside and he was in a heavy cassock, but I was so grateful he’d agreed to see me, I’d go wherever he wanted. Taking only my purse, I followed him down the hallway toward a wooden door at a side entrance to the church. As we stepped outside, I blinked in the harsh light and slipped my sunglasses back on.

We wandered deeper into the garden before the priest spoke again. “I apologize for the abrupt change of location. I wanted to be able to speak confidentially with you, and my office is not the place to do it.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You can’t speak confidentially in your own office?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot.” He didn’t offer any more explanation and I wasn’t brave enough to pry further. “Would you like to sit or walk?”

“Walk.” I rolled my neck and shoulders, trying to get the kinks out. “I’ve been sitting for hours on an airplane.”

“Then walk we shall.”

The garden was fragrant, and several trees offered us shade from the relentless rays of the sun. The garden path was made of stone and wound through perfectly symmetrical box hedges, past benches, stone birdbaths, and flowers like roses and hydrangeas.

We were both silent as we strolled. I was trying to figure out how to ask him what I wanted to know, and he seemed to be waiting on me to speak. Thankfully, he didn’t rush me. It was hard for me, not only because I’m an extreme introvert who sucks at small talk, but because I’d never spoken with an archbishop before.

“The garden is lovely,” I finally said.

“It is well loved by both those who work here and those who come here for a moment of peace,” he answered.

“I imagine you come here often.”

“I do.” He stopped and turned to face me. “Forgive me. I completely forgot to congratulate you on your engagement. It is the most wonderful news.”

“Oh, thank you.” He looked down at my hand, and I held it up so he could see the ring.

The father examined the ring with interest. “A blue diamond. A rare stone. Did you know the blue diamond is believed to foster rebirth?”

“I hadn’t heard that before.”

“It’s a bit of cultural trivia. The setting is beautiful. Antique, certainly.”

“It was Slash’s grandmother’s. The proposal came as a surprise to me.”

He smiled. “I’ve never known Nicolo to be rash about anything in his entire life. Although it may seem sudden to you, I’m sure the decision was considered quite carefully on his end.”

“You called him Nicolo. His friend from the Vatican, Tito, calls him Nico. His adopted mother calls him Romeo, and everyone in the States calls him Slash. Why do you call him Nicolo, if I may ask?”

“I named him Nicolo after he was left at my church. Nicolo was my father’s name, so it was to honor him. We were together for three days before child services came to take him away. That’s a long time to call a baby nothing butbambino. I do not know why his friend calls him that, but I suspect it’s because he used the name Nicolo at the Vatican.”

“He did?”

“He did.” Father Armando’s face stretched into a smile. “He asked to be called Nicolo when he entered the seminary because the name Romeo, combined with his exceptional good looks by the time he was an older teenager, resulted in quite a bit of teasing.”

It made sense, but it was yet another thing I hadn’t known about Slash. How long would I be peeling away the layers of the man I was going to marry?

We strolled for a bit more before the father spoke again. “So, Miss Carmichael, what brings you to Genoa?”

I guess he’d gotten tired of waiting for me to get to the point. I figured I’d better take the opening. Archbishops were likely very busy people.

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