CHAPTER NINE

Even after a shower, being forced to try on twelve dresses, and drinking two glasses of wine, Vica couldn't sleep.

She was too busy stressing over tomorrow.

Wyatt came home while Justine and Brooke were still there, but he didn't say more than a cursory "hello" and "goodnight" before showering and heading to bed himself.

Did he have as difficult a time sleeping as she did?

They agreed to wake up early and tell the boys of their plan over breakfast, before rushing for the ferry. It was Saturday, so the ferry going to San Camanez would have sailing waits, but there shouldn't be as much of a wait leaving the island. At least that was what Wyatt said.

Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror Saturday morning, Vica did her best to cover the dark circles under her eyes with some of the makeup Justine and Brooke brought over the night before. She'd never been big into makeup. Mostly just concealer to cover up spots and dark smudges under her eyes, and she never bothered with blush or eyeshadow. She'd probably look like a clown if she tried. She did, however, attempt some mascara and a little tinted lip gloss, and even with that bit of extra "paint", she felt like a lady of the evening as she scrutinized herself in the mirror. Her cut lip and the slight black eye from Track's assault had faded away to nearly nothing by now. And what was still there, she managed to hide with some blobs and blending of concealer.

She was still getting used to her new hair too.

How do you style a bob?

She'd always had long hair. So this new length had a steep learning curve.

She got it wet and finger combed some of the hair cream she had found in one of Wyatt's bathroom drawers, leaving her brown tresses with chunky waves that nicely framed her face. Even though it was still a shock to look at herself in the mirror and see such short hair, she had to admit that Dayna, the hairdresser, did a great job tidying things up and making them even after Vica's impulsive chop job.

The sound of the boys awake in the hallway diverted her attention.

She pulled in a deep breath that did nothing to calm her wild nerves. If she wasn't worried about a handprint on her face, she'd have slapped herself in order to get her brain and body to relax.

"Vica?" called Griffon. "You coming for breakfast?"

"Be right there," she replied. "Okay," she said to herself in the mirror as she smoothed her hands down the off-white lace dress Brooke loaned her. It cut her just above the knee and had cute cap sleeves, and what Brooke called a "boat neck." Paired with the sandals she wore over to the island, she looked … bride-like … maybe?

She certainly didn't feel like a bride.

"You can do this," she added to her self-pep talk. "It's not real."

Her nose wrinkled.

"Well, it is. It's legal. But it's temporary. He's just doing it to help you. He doesn't have feelings for you. Dom doesn't know what he's talking about."

A knock at the bedroom door made her jump. "Vica?" This time it was Wyatt.

She scurried to the door and opened it only to have her bottom lip nearly hit the floor. He looked so good. "Yes?" she croaked, resisting the urge to slap her palm to her forehead.

"I just need to grab some hair gel. Do you mind?"

She opened the door wider to allow him to enter. He smelled so good, and she closed her eyes and inhaled deeper when his back was to her. Light-gray pants, a fitted long-sleeve shirt that was off-white with thin, green stripes, and dark-gray suspenders. She could devour him right there.

He opened up the drawer in the bathroom where she found the hair cream and pulled out the same tub, snagging her gaze as he unscrewed the lid. His eyes went wide and his smile woke up the last, sleepy butterflies in her belly. "You look gorgeous."

Heat infused her cheeks. "So do you."

His grin gave those butterflies shots of espresso.

"Dad," Griffon came into the bedroom, "Jake said we have to spend the day with Uncle Dom and Silas. Is that true?" His blue-hazel eyes took in Vica. "Why do you look like you're going to a party?" He glanced at his dad. "You look like you're going to a party too." Then his eyes widened. "Are we all going to a party?"

"We'll explain everything over breakfast, kiddo. Get dressed and head downstairs. Where is your brother?"

"Reading," Griffon said with a bored tone. "What else?"

Wyatt finished in the bathroom and followed his son out, squeezing his shoulders as they left the bedroom. Vica was in their wake. "I thought you liked hanging out with Uncle Dom and Silas?"

They all made their way downstairs.

"I do, I just don't want to miss out on something better. I get serious MOFO, you know that."

Wyatt snorted and ruffled his kid's hair. "It's Fo MO. And yeah, I know you do."

Jake was already at the table—reading—along with a big plate of waffles, stewed strawberries, and whipped cream.

"Whoa," Griffon said. "What's this all for?"

Wyatt pulled out a chair for Vica and she sat down, admiring the way his back bunched and flexed beneath his shirt as he wandered into the kitchen and poured them each a coffee. He sat down in his seat after setting a mug in front of Vica. "So, yesterday the police came to the restaurant. Along with two men from something called ‘immigration.'"

Jake set his book down to give his dad his undivided attention. Griffon had already started loading his plate with breakfast food.

"Why did the police come?" Jake asked. "What happened?"

"They came for Vica. Because her job ended, and the company she was supposed to start working for decided to take back their job offer. Now, she doesn't have the proper paperwork to be in the country."

"Well, that's dumb," Griffon said with his mouth full. "You should be able to go wherever you want. Isn't this a free country?"

Wyatt gave his son an amused look before continuing. "Anyway, in order to give Vica more time to get that paperwork, the easiest thing for her to do is marry someone from this country. If you are married to an American citizen, you get what's called a green card and you can stay." He was obviously dumbing things down for the children significantly, but a big part of Vica figured he didn't need to. They were clever boys and understood more than their father gave them credit for. He glanced at Vica, hesitation in his eyes.

Was that hesitation over what they were about to do? Or simply hesitation at telling his sons?

"To help Vica, I suggested she and I get married. It's just to help her. Because we're friends."

Griffon and Jake's mouths dropped open, and they exchanged looks for a brief moment before they each smiled from ear to ear.

Vica exhaled in relief.

"Really?" Jake asked. "You guys are going to get married? "

"Are you our new mom?" Griffon asked.

"Uh …" Vica glanced at Wyatt for help.

"This is temporary," Wyatt said quickly. "One friend helping another."

"So, she's not our new mom?" Griffon asked, crestfallen.

As much as Vica didn't want to see the little guy sad, it warmed her heart that he was excited at the prospect of her being a more permanent fixture in his life.

"We're marrying just until she gets her papers sorted and the police stop coming here trying to arrest her for defending herself against the man who hurt her."

"They're trying to arrest you?" Jake asked. "Why?"

Oh boy!

"Because the man died," Wyatt said.

"Good," Griffon said. "Anybody who hits women doesn't deserve to be alive."

"Griff," Wyatt warned.

"What? I'm just saying what I've heard you say before. That hitting women—hitting girls—is bad and those men should be shot."

"I've never said that."

"Have too. I heard you. You said it to Uncle Dom when you thought I wasn't listening. You were talking about it the other day. You said ‘It should be legal to shoot fuckers who hit women.' Right?"

Oh boy!

Wyatt's face was bright red, and he was clenching his molars. "Eat your breakfast, please."

"Do we get to come to the wedding?" Jake asked, finally spearing a waffle for himself.

Griffon's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Is that why you look like you're going to a party? Are you going to get married?"

Wyatt cleared his throat. "We are."

"And we don't get to come?" The pitches of Griffon's voice continued to climb with each question.

"We are going to Seattle to pick up the marriage license and get married at city hall. It won't be a party. Like I told you, Griff, it's not real."

Vica hated how every time Wyatt said that, her chest grew tighter.

"Then why are you fancy?"

"Because we need it to look real," Wyatt replied.

"And you don't think having your kids there would make it realer?"

"Griffon …"

"Dad …"

Jake lifted his brows as he poured syrup on his waffle. "He has a point, Dad. If you're trying to make this marriage and wedding look believable, don't you think we should be there and in the photos? Not having your children at your wedding seems crazy."

"I mean, we weren't at the first one because we weren't alive. But we're alive now and should be at this one." Griffon's brows pinched in the middle as he glared at his father. His gaze tipped to Vica. "Vica, what do you want?"

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," she said, holding up her hands.

"But you are in the middle," Jake said. "You are marrying our dad. Don't you like us?"

"I …" She exhaled and her shoulders rounded. "I love you guys." Glancing up at Wyatt she twisted her lips. "They do have a point about the pictures."

His mouth opened and a strangled noise came out.

The boys knew they'd won and beamed at each other across the table.

"What ferry are we catching?" Griffon asked, picking up the pace with which he devoured his breakfast.

"I wanted to be on the ten," Wyatt said.

Griffon glanced at his Fitbit. "Lots of time. Vica, please pass the whipped cream."

She was really glad the boys pressed to come to the wedding.

Having them there made it a million times better.

And she had not one, but two dashing men there to walk her down the aisle.

Griffon stood up for Vica while Jake stood up for Wyatt.

It was real in that it was legal, but she kept having to tell herself that it was all a ruse.

It didn't feel like a ruse though. It felt more real than anything in her life.

"Now, by the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the judge that presided over their ceremony said.

Smiling, Wyatt released her hand—which now wore a ring—gripped her gently, but firmly, by the back of the neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

When their lips touched it was like a new star had just formed it the sky. The world seemed brighter, and for the briefest of moments, nothing in Vica's life didn't make sense.

Until Griffon said, "Ewww," very loudly.

Wyatt released her neck and stepped back, still smiling. He took her hand again. "You okay?"

Swallowing, she blinked and nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Now what?" Griffon asked.

"Now, we sign the papers so it's official," Wyatt said, following the judge over to the table where they would sign the marriage certificate. He still hadn't released Vica's hand, and she was grateful for it. Her head was a little spinny after that kiss .

They signed the papers and thanked the judge. Then, with each of them holding one of the boys' hands, they left the courthouse.

"Do you mind if we make a quick stop?" Wyatt asked as they climbed back into his truck.

"Not at all."

"Are we getting pizza?" Griffon asked as he heaved himself into his booster seat.

"Not yet," Wyatt said. He'd promised the boys pizza after the ceremony and Griffon wasn't about to let him forget it. "I actually want to pop to the nursing home and check on Grandpa."

"That's a good idea," Jake said. "It's been a while."

Wyatt's face grew tight as he slid behind the steering wheel. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea for you guys to come in though. You know how confused Grandpa can get."

"Won't he be confused if we're not there?" Griffon protested.

Wyatt double-checked that everyone was buckled in, then pulled out of the parking garage stall. "How about I check to see how he is today. Then, if he's in good spirits and his memory isn't too bad, I come get you guys? Does that sound fair?"

"I feel like if we see Grandpa more, he'll remember us more," Griffon said.

"Alzheimer's doesn't work that way, bud."

Vica's mouth dipped into a frown. "How long has your father been in the home?"

Wyatt turned left onto the road. "Seven years now, I think. It's hard because he doesn't know that Mom has passed, or any of our wives. So he still talks about them like they're here. Or, he goes even further back in time and thinks we're his old army buddies, or a brother, or something. It's best to just run with whatever narrative he has for the day than try to convince him otherwise. That just upsets him."

Vica nodded. "Okay. If he's not well, I'm happy to sit with the boys or take them somewhere for an hour so you can visit your dad."

He reached over and squeezed her hand, which simply caused those butterflies to throw rice in the air and for the wedding march to play in her head. "Thank you."

They reached the nursing home after about fifteen minutes and Wyatt managed to find a parking space in the shade.

"You guys stay here, and I'll text Vica if I think it's a good idea for you to come in." Wyatt climbed out of the cab of the truck, flashing Vica one more of those smiles that made her pulse race.

"I wish we could just go see grandpa without Dad having to check if his brain is working right," Griffon said with a huff as he crossed his arms and pouted.

Vica spun around better in her seat. "Your dad is just looking out for your hearts. People with Alzheimer's can get irritated very easily and he does not want you guys to get scared or upset. I think he is being a very good dad protecting you this way."

Griffon met her gaze. "Are you glad you married our dad?"

"I am grateful for the friendship and kindness your father—your whole family—has shown me. I do not know where I would be right now without it."

"Jail, probably," Griffon said.

Jake shoved his brother in the shoulder. "Don't say that stuff."

Griffon's reaction was one of surprise. "Well, it's true. Isn't it? The police came for Vica. And she did kill that guy." His eyes went serious. "You did actually kill him, right?"

How much could she say to these little boys? Wyatt seemed to have a very open and honest way of parenting them, but still, she didn't want to overstep.

"He hit you and hurt you after you said no to a kiss. So, I mean, he kind of had it coming. Right?" Jake said. "Hitting women is what cowards do. That's what Dad says. Brave men just accept the ‘no' and move on. We all have to learn to deal with and accept rejection. I'm not going to like everyone and not everyone is going to like me, and we need to be okay with that. "

"I don't like Barnacle at school. But I don't hit him. Or try to kiss him," Griffon said. "If he tried to kiss me, I'd simply say, ‘no, thank you' and hopefully that would be enough. I wouldn't want to have to kill him because he kept trying to kiss me. Or hit me because I said no."

"That's not what happened," Vica said quickly. Oh boy, this conversation took a very tight turn she wasn't prepared for. "The man was my boss. Since I worked at the company, he let me know that he wanted to kiss me. I always said no. I always said I only see him as my boss and not a boyfriend. Then, when he tried to kiss me the other night and I said no, he hit me. I tried to get away. He pulled my hair and hit me again. I fought back. My brother taught me how to defend myself. So I did, and I hit my boss. Only, I hit him in a place that would make him let go of me and give me time to get away."

"Where?" Griffon asked, totally enthralled by Vica's story.

"In the throat."

"Oh. Man, I thought you were going to say penis."

"I hit him there too, but that didn't kill him. So I punched him here in the throat. It broke a very important bone in his neck," she pointed to exactly where she struck Track, "and stopped him from being able to breathe, and he died. I didn't mean for him to die. I meant for him to let go of me so I could get away."

The boys were staring at her, unblinking now.

Her phone buzzed on her lap.

Thank god.

"Your dad says it's okay for you to come in. Your grandpa doesn't know who your dad is—he thinks he is an army buddy of his named Steve, but you being there shouldn't upset him."

They all unbuckled their belts and climbed out of the truck. She met them around at the rear of the truck after locking it up, and held them back with her hands on their chests as a car came whipping through the parking lot too quickly.

"Slow down!" Griffon yelled at the driver. "This isn't the freeway, you know! "

The driver's window was down, and the driver nearly hit a parked car when he hung his head out the window to glance back to see who yelled at him.

Vica had to keep herself from laughing and rolled her lips inward.

They reached the front doors of the seniors' home, where Wyatt met them. "Now, Grandpa thinks I'm an old friend from the army. So you guys can just be my kids or something. Okay? Just play along. Pretend it's a game like you guys play when you make up different names and stuff."

"Oh, oh! Can I be Voltron the Conqueror?" Griffon asked.

"No."

"You're no fun."

Wyatt and Vica exchanged looks, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. They reached a bedroom door that was open just a crack. "Hey, Peter," Wyatt said. "Remember these guys?"

"Is that Ronnie and Donnie?" Wyatt's dad asked. "Wow, they've gotten big."

"Ronnie and Donnie?" Griffon said under his breath. "Those names suck."

"Just play along," Jake encouraged. "And remember to call him ‘Mr. McEvoy', not ‘Grandpa.'"

Griffon made a noise of discontent in his throat, but didn't argue.

"And Elora," Peter went on, slowly standing up from his chair and coming to Vica where he hugged and kissed her on the cheek. "You look lovelier than ever."

Vica smiled at Wyatt's dad. "It's nice to see you again, Peter."

Griffon gave Vica a confused look. "You've never met him before," he said under his breath.

"We're pretending, remember?" she reminded.

"Oh, right."

"We were in the neighborhood and wanted to come and check in on you," Wyatt said. "But I left these crazies in the car until I knew you were awake."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. "I just woke up from a nap. Seems like I'm sleeping more and more these days. Not sure why. "

"Probably just all the fresh air," Wyatt mused.

Peter's smile was shaky. "Would Ronnie and Donnie like a mint?"

"Boys?" Wyatt asked, lifting his brows as Peter dug around in his pocket and pulled out two plastic-wrapped, white-and-red peppermints.

"Sure," the kids said in unison, stepping forward just long enough to retrieve them from the man's gnarled and wrinkled, trembling hand. Then they were right back in front of Vica, practically standing on her toes.

"What's with the getups?" Peter asked. "You four look like you're headed to a Friday night social."

"We had a little garden party to attend for some friends," Wyatt said. "You know Elora, any excuse to dress up and get out of her nurse's scrubs."

Vica laughed and smiled. "I feel like I live in the things."

"This is weird," Griffon said.

"He's our grandpa but he's not our grandpa," Jake replied. "I wish he knew who we were."

Vica's heart went out to the boys. It had to be confusing. Surely, this wasn't the first time they experienced their grandfather like this, but she also couldn't see it getting any easier. And it had to weigh on Wyatt too. His own father not even recognizing him. He was gone, but not really.

She wasn't sure if her father simply passing away was a gentler blessing on her and her brother than this. Either way, watching a parent deteriorate, especially when you had such vivid memories of them being a strong and capable adult, wasn't easy.

It was so wonderful to see the way Wyatt interacted with his dad though. Even if his father kept calling him "Steve" and reminiscing about their army days, Wyatt just laughed along. The way he looked at his dad warmed her to her core. If she wasn't already inconveniently falling for this single dad, seeing him with his own father would have pushed her over the edge. His patience, his compassion, and above all, the fact that despite his father's advanced state of Alzheimer's, Wyatt was never condescending or patronizing. He didn't treat his dad like an invalid or anything less than a totally capable, with-it, human being. They joked and told stories, and Wyatt even called his dad, "a grumpy old fucker," which just made Peter laugh until he wheezed.

An hour passed before anybody knew it and although the boys seemed champing at the bit to get going, Vica could tell Wyatt was reluctant to say goodbye.

"Well, Peter, this has been a wonderful visit, but I need to get the boys and Elora home for supper." Wyatt stood up from his seat, and the boys eagerly bounced up off the bed where they sat with Vica.

"Your visit has made my day," Peter said, fatigue in his voice. "And your boys are such handsome young men. We'll have to get them together with my boys very soon."

"Absolutely."

"Did I tell you, Janet is pregnant again?"

Wyatt smiled. "No. Congratulations. Do you think you'll finally get a girl?"

"Why is Dad asking that when he knows it's all boys?" Griffon murmured.

"Shh," Vica said, stroking his head. "He's just playing along. Make believe. Remember?"

Peter crossed his arthritic-looking fingers. "Fifth time lucky, maybe?"

Wyatt chuckled. "I'll cross my fingers for you too."

"That's Uncle Jagger," Jake whispered. "He doesn't get a girl."

Peter and Wyatt hugged, and Vica could tell Wyatt was holding onto his dad just a little tighter and a little longer. When they parted Wyatt's eyes were a little glassy. The men then shook hands.

Vica stepped up and hugged Peter as well. "So nice to see you again, Peter. You look as dashing and youthful as ever."

Peter kissed her cheek. "Always were such a charmer, Elora."

Then the boys shook hands with Peter, and they said their final goodbye.

Vica laced her fingers through Wyatt's as they walked down the hall of the seniors' home. He glanced at her and smiled, giving her fingers a squeeze. "I just never know when, or if, I'll see him again."

"I know." She offered him a comforting smile and he held the door open for all of them to step back out into the warm afternoon sun.

"Pizza?" Griffon asked.

Wyatt chuckled. "Yes, pizza."

Jake was on the other side of Vica and slipped his hand into hers, glancing up at her with soulful hazel-blue eyes. "Thanks for playing along too. Was that weird?"

Vica shrugged. "Maybe a little bit. But it was also fun. We have to take care of our elderly. They're where we came from." She gave his fingers a playful squeeze. "Without your grandpa, you wouldn't be here. So I am very grateful to him for that and am happy to pretend to be someone else for a little bit if it makes things easier for him."

"Dad wouldn't be here either. Are you grateful to Grandpa for Dad too?" he asked.

Vica and Wyatt exchanged looks as they approached his truck and something far beyond friendship passed between them.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm grateful to your grandpa for your Dad too."

More than you could ever imagine.