“Alessio’s right.”
I’d know that voice blindfolded and in the middle of a crowded room, as Rafael came to a stop beside me.
“Father Vitale.” Marco’s eyes widened a fraction as his shoulders straightened. “I, um…”
Taking pity on the poor kid, I turned to Rafael and brought the cup to my lips. “We were talking about my altar-boy days.”
Rafael’s eyes sparkled a little, and I wasn’t sure if it was from my words or the lights. But I didn’t want to read into what it meant if it was from my words.
Stupid, beautiful eyes.
“That was a long time ago.”
Not that long.“Practically a lifetime.”
I took a long sip of the punch and looked back to Marco, who seemed like he wanted to bolt.Right there with you, kid.
“I’m happy to see you here today, Marco,” Rafael told the young man.
“Mom made me come.” Marco rushed to add, “But it’s all good. I met your friend and he’s kinda cool.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is. Some of the other kids are about to start painting over the graffiti on the west side of the church wall. Do you want to go and help them out?”
Marco glanced at me, and I held my cup up to him. “Sounds fun. Why don’t you come find me when you’re done?”
“You’ll still be here?”
“If I plan to leave, I’ll come see you first. How about that?”
Marco’s grin reappeared. “That’d be awesome. It was cool meeting you.”
I saluted him, and as he ran off, Rafael turned to face me—and just when I thought he’d scold me for talking to one of his “flock,” a bright smile lit his face. It was like being hit with a sunbeam.
“Thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
“For talking with Marco. He’s not the easiest to reach.”
I shrugged, then lobbed my empty cup into the trash. “Seemed easy enough to me.”
“Funny about that.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s always reminded me of you. It makes sense you two clicked.”
I narrowed my eyes on Rafael’s grin, hating the fact that I could see it too. He was right. The reason I’d been drawn to Marco was that he reminded me of me.“Yeah, well, let’s hope he turns out better than me, huh?”
Rafael’s smile fell, a troubled expression crossing his face. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Put yourself down. You’re?—”
“The man who kissed you last week,” I reminded him, since he seemed to be conveniently forgetting that little transgression in amongst all his praise.
“Alessio.” He shook his head. “You can’t?—”
