Page 142 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Stan kept them in suspense, not saying a word, but just typing away on his laptop. She tried to see what he was doing through the reflection of his glasses, but it didn’t work.

If he wanted her in the country, surely, he would have said so by now.

He was probably doing a deep dive into her last six months in the country and the chaos she was smack dab in the middle of. Yes, she was a murder suspect for a while. And yes, she helped bring Wyndham Croft and his two sons to justice, helping vindicate many of their victims. But as far as the murder thing went, it was ruled self-defense, and she had no criminal record.

“Stan … please,” she whispered. “This is torture.”

“Shh,” Wyatt murmured.

She spun around and pinched her brows at her husband. “Did you shush me? This is my life, my future—ourfuture, on the line here. I’m a little stressed and I think I’m allowed to be.”

“Vica—”

Her brows parted and rose now, challenging him to shush her again. She faced Stan. “If you’ve got questions about me being a murder suspect, I can assure you that it was ruled as self-defense. I was never charged. An assault kit was performed and processed, and admissible in court.”

Stan’s face was made of stone.

Vica whimpered. “Stan?”

Now her knee started to bounce.

Wyatt put his free hand on it to keep it from going berserk. “È necessario rilassarsi. Stai facendo tutto bene.You need to relax. You’re doing everything right.”

Nodding, she took a deep breath in through her nose, then exhaled out through thinly parted lips.

Stan’s gaze moved from his computer screen, and he finally met her eyes. “Well, Mrs. Vitale-McEvoy …”

Vica held her breath.

“You get your green card.”

Vica leaped out of the seat, leaned across Stan’s desk, gripping him by the face, and kissed him once on each cheek.

“Vica!” Wyatt exclaimed behind her, standing up and grabbing her by the hips to pull her off Stan.

Realizing what she’d just done, Vica stepped back, mortified. “Oh my gosh. I … I … I am so sorry. I—is that going to stop you from giving me a green card?”

Stan was more shocked than Vica was. His brows looked like they were part of some weird hairline. “Uh … no. But … that’s never happened to me before.”

“Italians, we are passionate. And I am passionate about you, and how kind and wonderful you are, Stan,” Vica said, making the awkward situation more awkward.

Wyatt took her hand. “All right, thank you, Stan. I think we’re going to go now before you change your mind.” Then he steered Vica out of the door, but Stan was hot on their trail.

“You have to come back,” Stan said. “There is paperwork to sign.”

“Oh,dio,” Vica said, wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear into a hole in the floor.

“Come on,” Wyatt said, chuckling and leading her back to Stan’s office.

They weren’t there long, and by the time they left, she was only slightly less humiliated than before. Stan’s cheeks were rosy, but he handled it all with grace and professionalism.

Vica, of course, dropped her pen three times her hands were so sweaty and she was so nervous.

“The hard part is over,” Wyatt said, his hand on her back as she signed her name the last time. “You can breathe.”

Stan smiled. “Breathe, Vica. You did great.”

“Thank you,” she said, about to lunge forward and hug Stan again out of pure instinct. But he was quick to push his hand out and between them instead.

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