I’d walked out of their house feeling like I was grieving Cooper all over again, but also feeling like I’d put their power over me to rest. I hadn’t stood up for myself, and they’d needed that power to heal. I’d tortured myself for almost two years with the belief that I could’ve done more to save him, even if I couldn’t have, because of them. It gave me no joy leaving his mom crying and his dad looking ill, but I’d never forgive them for what’d almost happened.
One of the things I’d picked up from the few therapy sessions I’d attended was that lack of control made people feel worse, and taking back that control hadn’t solved everything, but it’d made me feel stronger.
What also helped was Sadie. At night when I woke up because of a nightmare, it was Sadie who calmed me down. She was the yin to my yang, and I was marrying her in four hours.
That’d been one of the methods of distraction I’d used for both of us. After I’d gotten home and watched as the officers who’d just interviewed me led Orson Riley to their car, I’d decided we were getting married as soon as possible. Actually, I’d demanded it, but I liked to call it deciding because otherwise, Sadie got pissed at me.
She’d fallen in love with Sarasota Bay and Florida and wanted the wedding to happen at the house so that we were close to Cooper. I’d given in to all of her requests, loving a majority of them…
That was until she had an idea and refused to budge on it when I tried to talk some sense into her.
She wanted Gramps to do the ceremony, so he’d become ordained.
The captain of the fishing boat that Cooper had been on had moved from Alaskan waters to Florida ones, so he was also doing it with Gramps to make sure that there were no issues later on.
I had no idea how they’d worked out who was doing what part of the ceremony, but so long as it was legal and ended up with us being married, I didn’t care anymore. The closer we got to the wedding, the antsier I became about it.
Three months it’d taken to complete. In the grand scheme of life, it was nothing, but it’d felt like forever. Yesterday a truck had arrived with open-sided tents and an archway for us to stand under, and when they’d started to lay it all out, it became real.
Hearing a gentle tapping at the door, I grinned, knowing immediately who it was. Over the last three months, I’d gotten to know Cynthia and Wick, who’d visited us twice. The little boy was my shadow whenever he was here, and I found him freaking hilarious.
Not waiting for permission, he kicked open the door and walked in carrying an unimpressed looking Dobby.
“Uncle ‘Jah, we’ve got a problem,” he told me, sounding more serious than a four-year-old boy should. “Aunty Sa’dee said Dobby was a boy, but he’s got no pee-pee.”
Sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge, I held my hands out for Dobby and tried to calm him down.
There was something to be said about the cat—he never lashed out at kids. His tail would flick, and he’d look even more pissed off than usual, but that was it.
“He’s definitely a boy, Wick, even if you can’t see his d— pee-pee.”
“Is it stuck inside?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I can’t say I know the answer to that, kid. I do know the doctor confirmed he was a boy when your aunt took him to see him, though.”
“What ‘bout his bawz?”
Blinking, I tried to think of the best way to explain it. Well, the best way without scarring him for life.
“Well, see, with animals, you can get them neutered and spayed. It stops them from being angry, peeing everywhere, and feeling… uh, frustrated.”
“What’s that mean?”
Wincing, I started berating myself for even going near this avenue with him.
I should have sent him to his grandpa.
“Dobby was neutered, so the doctor had to remove his…”—Christ—“his balls.”
Lunging over, he spread the poor cat's legs and looked at the blank space between them. “Are they hiding, too?”
“No,” I chuckled, finding his reaction cute. Mistake, huge fucking mistake. “The doctor gave him medicine so he’d sleep, then he cut them off with—”
“Ma,” he screeched loud enough to get everyone’s attention.
After that, there were tears, a lot of snot, laughter from my family and Cynthia, and glares from Ned, as he told them he was never sleeping again in case we cut his ‘bawz off.’
By the time Ned carried him out, I only had just over two hours to get ready for the wedding. It was ample time, but it meant I’d have to forego the bottle of whisky I felt like I needed to drink after going through that trauma.