Page 28 of The Quirky Vet

At least that ends today, and we can tell our mates about ourwe accidentally got marrieddilemma. That'll be a load off. I've hated lying to them these past two weeks, and it's been getting harder and harder to dodge their questions about what's up. I'm not exactly the world's best liar.

"You ready to go?" he asks, watching me as if he's been doing it for some time.

I snap myself out of my thoughts. "Yep. Let's do it."

We climb out of his ute, and damn, Fitz scrubs up well. He went with a purple and pink suit today—you know, something modest that will fade into the background—and accessorised by bedazzling his beard with an array of glittery pink and purple ornaments. I went with a white linen shirt, olive blazer, chinos, and R.M. Williams boots.

"Have to say," he murmurs as we approach the gathering. "You look pretty schmicko, mate."

I beam at the compliment. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."

Our eyes meet. He smiles. I smile back, and for a moment, some of the recent weirdness between us dissipates.

"My, my, my." Wilby's grandmother waves to us with a devilish look in her eyes. "Don't you two look lovely. If only I were fifty years younger…"

Fitz scoops down and gives her a peck on the cheek. "You're in luck, Polly. I've recently developed a granny kink."

"You cheeky fucker." She laughs loudly and smacks his chest before turning to me. "And where's my hug, mister? I've recently developed a threesome kink."

My mouth flies open as I hug the pint-sized dynamo. There's no mistaking this woman as Wilby's grandmother. I don't know any other eighty-something-year-old who would say half the shit that flies out of her filthy mouth.

"I need to put you two to work."

Fitz and I exchange a worried glance, and she cackles. "No. Not on me. Get your minds out of the gutter. I need you to drag Wilby out here." She points to a massive white tent. "Everything's good and ready to go. We're just waiting on him."

"Now that we can do," I say, and we make our way towards the white tent.

"Knock knock," Fitz declares as we stomp inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

Wilby's checking himself out in the mirror. "Can I help you two bozos?"

"We're here to round you up. The old chook's raring to go."

He smiles. "I bet she is."

Wilby looks good in a navy-blue suit, pink tie, and polished tab shoes. He's even tamed his messy mane with what looks like half a tub of gel.

It's downright adorable.

I grin at him. "Mate, you've already got Col. You can stop fussin'."

"Technically, he doesn't have him until after the wedding. As we've discovered," Fitz blurts out, and we exchange a look.

Annndwe're back to Weirdsville.

I've already decided I'm not going to get too wasted tonight. After telling our friends about our wedding, I plan on being sober enough to have a serious convo with my bestie about where things stand and how he's feeling about my revelation.

Wilby gives us a funny look—can't say I blame him. We are acting strange—and adjusts his collar and straightens hisshoulders. "Let's get me married before Col comes to his senses and changes his mind."

The three of us head out. Polly is waiting there for him, so we leave them to it.

"Are you okay?" I ask Fitz as we find our seats.

He claps his palm against my shoulder. "Yeah, mate."

I want to believe him, but the slight trace of uncertainty in his voice makes it hard.

Wedefinitelyneed to talk later.