Page 34 of Smitten with the Single Dad

In so many ways, Wyatt reminded her of her own father.

Not in a creepy, daddy issues kind of way. But just in the deep-seated love he had for his children.

Lorenzo and Vica were Giovanni Vitale’s entire life. He lived for his children. He lived for his wife, and even though he remained present and did the very best he could after Vica’s mother died, it was noticeable the spark that haddisappeared after he lost the love of his life.

Where was Griffon and Jake’s mother? Did she die as well? Or were they divorced?

She did a bit of cursory snooping when she was in the house alone, searching for pictures, but she couldn’t find any. Then again, she hadn’t opened any drawers or cupboards, she just looked at the walls and any photo frames on flat surfaces. If she was dead, why didn’t he have any pictures of her?

After dinner, Wyatt brought out mango gelato, which had the boys cheering with excitement. Vica, unable to ever turn down gelato—let alone anything mango flavored—joined them before retiring to her room so the family of three could have some time for themselves.

She wasn’t particularly tired. So she spent the rest of the evening Googling ways to get a rush visa, as well as applying for jobs elsewhere. Her inbox was loaded with emails from colleagues, but she just couldn’t bring herself to read them.

What did everyone think of her?

Would they testify against her, or on her behalf, if it came to that?

Would Wyndham Croft offer them money to say she was into Track? Would he pay them or threaten them to sully her character? She really didn’t know the people she worked with very well. Sure, she went out for drinks with Aleysha a few times and they went to a couple of yoga classes together on their lunch breaks, but she didn’t know the womanthatwell. Not well enough to assume she had Vica’s back.

It was midnight by the time she finally fell asleep, though her dreams were fraught with chopped up images and memories of the night before. She woke up when it was still dark out, sitting straight up in bed, her heart pounding, skin soaked in sweat as the last remaining images of her nightmare faded on the fringes of her consciousness.

She couldn’t really remember the dream now, but she knew it was bad.

Her breathing was erratic, and she was scared.

Was it a dream about Track? Or those two big, scary men who met her at the gate and offered her a settlement?

She went back and forth about that decision too.

Maybe she should have taken the settlement, working into the agreement that Wyndham Croft would put in writing that he would keep her out of prison and from getting deported. He was a man with money and connections. Surely, he could work his underhanded money magic to keep the police and ICE away from her.

She quickly realized she wasn’t going to fall back asleep, so she padded to the bathroom and filled the free-standing soaker tub with warm water. Wyatt didn’t have a variety of soaps to choose from, but she liked the smell of the men’s body wash in the shower. So she added some of that to the running water until it created bubbles. Then she peeled out of the pajama shorts and top that Brooke and Justine bought her, and climbed into the tub. The window before her was enormous, allowing a perfect, unencumbered view of the beautiful Puget Sound.

It was still dark out, but a few boat lights bobbed in the water, as well as a handful of lighted buoys.

But it was the stars that really mesmerized her. They were endless and so crystal clear that for the briefest of moments as she stared at them, resting her head against the back of the tub with her body completely submerged, she forgot where she was, or the trouble she was in.

Surely, in a universe as fathomless and complex as this, her problem was insignificant and would sort itself out. She needed to have faith that good would prevail here.

She did nothing wrong.

She never led Track on. She never flirted with him. And she certainly didn’t send her colleagues home and plan to be alone with him. She even stopped consuming alcohol around him so her wits were with her one hundred percent.

Did she mean to kill him? Of course not. She meant to injure him enoughthat she could get away and find help. But Lorenzo and his friends taught her well, and perhaps she just didn’t know her own strength.

“It’s not your fault,sorellina,” Lorenzo would say whenever they practiced self-defense. “It’s never your fault. You can always change your mind. You can always say no. If he does not respect that and stop, you do whatever you need to do to get away. To protect yourself.”

Closing her eyes, Vica sunk down into the water until she was entirely submerged, face and all. She held her breath for a long time, seriously contemplating if anybody out there would really miss her if she just didn’t come up for air.

But the image of two little boys giggling at the dinner table and how devastated they would be if she died in their father’s bathtub sent her shooting up out of the water and taking a deep breath.

Don’t be so dramatic. Your life is valuable. Your life is worth something.

She sucked in big gulps of oxygen and frowned. “Get it together,” she said to herself in Italian. “You are not this weak.”

She closed her eyes again and leaned back against the tub, her arms out, resting on the edge. It’d been a long time since she met anybody like Wyatt. Someone so fiercely loyal and ready to help. And even though she knew a lot of his chivalry came from the fact that he was the first person she bumped into, and the incident happened on his property, a big part of her hoped there might be more to it.

After watching him with his children that evening, it was impossible to deny that she was smitten with this single dad. Orinnamorata.

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