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“Especially with me around. What about with the bishop? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. I think it may have been the most excitement he’s had in three decades. All is good with you and the Bishop of Salerno.”

Yep, this wasdefinitelya new low for me. “While I’m relieved, being the sole source of excitement for the Bishop of Salerno over the past three decades doesnotmake me feel any better.”

Slash smiled as he adjusted his sunglasses on his nose. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and this happens.”

“I was trying to help!”

“And help, you did. The elderly woman you helped walked away with significantly more money than she would have made. The bishop has an exciting tale to tell during mass, and the parade viewers had a lot more interesting fare to watch than the Salerno civic choir singing off-key. Good job.” He placed a hand on my back, moving me forward. “Now let’s go check out the cathedral.”

“Fine.” I hoisted my purse on my shoulder and took the hand he offered. “As long as it can be done in anonymity, I’m in.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lexi

We followed the parade route toward the church. The crowds were heavy as we pushed our way through the people who had gathered for the celebration. I noticed the stares Slash got as we walked past. Even in a crowd, his presence was compelling.

“So, who called when I was helping the elderly lady?” I asked as we walked.

“Work. It was Charlie. They have an issue and were asking my opinion.”

“An issue? Is it safe to talk NSA-business on your phone?”

“No. But we don’t talk specifics.”

“Do they miss you?”

“Perhaps. I need to get back, but I’m also finding I quite enjoy showing my girl around Italy, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.”

“Well, this girl is enjoying it...minus those particular circumstances and the runaway cart, of course.”

He smiled, but said nothing as he guided me through the crowd. When we finally arrived at the cathedral, the first thing that struck me was the bell tower with mullioned windows.

“Wow, that’s incredibly intricate,” I said.

Slash gazed up, shading his eyes with his hand even though he wore sunglasses. “There are eight bells, all perfectly tuned. And, if you check out the front façade, you’ll see it contains fifty-six panels depicting various stages of Jesus’s life.”

“Wow. How do you know all that? Is it from your time spent at the Vatican?”

“Nope. I looked it up on Google this morning while you were in the bathroom, so I could impress you.” His mouth twitched as if trying to keep from smiling.

“Hey!” I hit him on the arm as he leaned in with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

I took a few more photos before we entered the church. Slash dipped his fingers in the holy water and crossed himself as I removed my hat, thankful for the cool dimness of the church. The cathedral was understandably crowded, but we wandered around, stopping often in apses to admire the paintings, the ceiling frescos and intricate stained-glass windows.

It was hard to explain how being in church made me feel, especially side by side with Slash. The engineering part of my brain was already calculating the loading on the walls and the columns from the golden vaulted ceilings. I tried to imagine how they completed the construction, given the tools and technology of the day. But another part of my brain was reminding me that not everything can, orshould, be computed. For a moment, I just stopped in wonder and enjoyed the beauty and majesty of the structure.

We made a full circle inside the church before Slash asked me if I wanted to see the tombs. I did, so we descended below, and spent a few minutes jostling with other tourists to get a good view of Matthew’s tomb, as well as that of Pope Gregory VII’s.

Before we headed back outside, we stopped at the makeshift shrine of the two sainthood candidates. Slash dropped a few bills into the collection box and asked if I wanted to light the votive candles. I lit two, and Slash bowed his head, murmuring a short prayer for them.

The heat and bright sunshine blinded us the second we stepped outside, so we put our sunglasses back on. The parade had ended in the courtyard shortly after the arrival of the bishop, but the celebration was still going strong.

“How long does the celebration last?” I asked Slash.

“As long as it takes. My guess is all day and well into the night. We Italians like a good party.” He looked around. “I’m going to find a bathroom. You good?”