“She’s come a long way,” Lacey said with unabashed pride. “As far as Danny and Peter? I think she realized she was so fresh out of marriage, it was too soon with either one. She’s been hard at work on herself, and I just love her for it.”
“Did you have a favorite of the two?” Meredith asked.
“Oh, I’m fully on Team Peter and he’s supposedly moving to Destin, so…” She held up crossed fingers. “Maybe I’ll be the one in an ugly sage-colored dress.”
Meredith laughed, not hating the idea of someone wonderful for Aunt Vivien. They talked about Peter for a while, then the conversation moved to Grandma Maggie and the big revelation about the criminal grandfather they never knew.
It was easy to sit and gossip about the fam as the two of them had done for years, staying at the table until well after sunset.
They walked out to the car, the air sticky and warm with the coming night. Meredith paused before getting in.
“How long will you be away?” she asked Lacey.
“I’m not sure. A few days in Jax, and then he said we could stay at his parents’ house for a while. How long are you going to be in Destin? I don’t want to miss the chance to hang with you.”
“I don’t know,” Meredith said. “A few weeks, I think. I’d like to be here if and when Atlas’s grandparents show up. If Jonah needs a show of family solidarity, I’m here. I can work remote and…you know, take a…gulp, vacation.”
Lacey laughed. “Now you sound like the Meredith I know and love.”
But would she be that woman when Lacey found out the truth? Or would the news push her right off the pedestal her little cousin had put her on?
As they pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward home, Meredith’s gaze lingered on the quiet sky, and the road ahead that seemed to stretch forever.
She had no idea what she was going to do about this baby, but with each passing day, she knew she had to figure it out.
July 11, 1992
1:47 a.m. (I can’t sleep, I’m still sandy, and I have the obnoxious voice of Dustin Mathers stuck in my head.)
Today was… wow. Something happened that just stuck with me and will definitely become a “remember when” story next summer. Maybe even sooner. Possibly by breakfast.
We were all just being normal, okay? Me, Tessa, and Kate. Our three matching striped towels lined up on the beach. We brought snacks and books and dragged out the big turquoise umbrellas to make what Tessa insists on calling “her cabana.” (She also wore her snow-white bikini on her ridiculously tanned skin which makes all the boys do that cartoon eyeball bulging thing and I am NOT exaggerating.)
It was sunny and perfect, and really peaceful. Tessa was flipping through Seventeen, and Kate was doing that thing where she eats Goldfish crackers one by one and looks like she’s solving math problems in her head, and I was just soaking up the sun.
Enter: Dustin “Who Invited Him?” Mathers.
We heard him before we saw him.
Well—technically, we heard the sound of a beer can cracking open and someone singing what I think was supposed to be“Thunderstruck” by AC/DC, but it was so off-key I thought it was a dying seagull.
He stumbled down the boardwalk with two other guys I vaguely recognized from around town—maybe locals? Dustin was definitely the leader of the idiot parade (so named by Tessa), shirtless, barefoot, anddrunk. I’ve seen him like this before at some beach parties, but this was the middle of the afternoon!
And of course he spotted us.
“WYLIE TWINS! LITTLE LAWSON!” He literally shouted across the dunes like we were contestants.
(For the record:I am not little. I am 5’4”. That is average.)
We all groaned in unison. Except Tessa, who waved, because of course she did.
We knew Dustin was drunk right away when he tripped over absolutely nothing and landed in a sprawl in the sand in front of us.
He smelled like beer and Nacho Doritos. His eyes were bloodshot but sparkly, and he literally slurred his words like a cliché.
We complained about him wrecking our peace, but Tessa pronounced him “harmless” which got her a very drunk grin from him. He said he wasn’t harmless. He was wild. Actually he said, “I am untameable. I am the storm.” (Picture my eyes rolling.) He was barely coherent, that’s what.
And he kept calling me “Little Lawson” which irks. Crista is little. I am fifteen, but he was in no shape for an argument. The thing about Dustin is he’s got this way of saying things where you’re not sure if he’s teasing or being genuine, and that smile is annoying because it makes it harder to stay annoyed.
