“I love you,” he said again, simply. “And I trust you.”
The last statement echoed over the engine as he restarted it and played in her head as they motored back through the harbor with the sunset fading behind them.
When they reached the marina, Roman tied off with calm efficiency. He helped her step down to the dock, his hand steady at her elbow. For a second, she thought he might kiss her, might try to pull her back into the warmth.
But he didn’t.
He drove back to his house in a quiet that felt right, given the circumstances, and pulled in next to her car.
When they both got out, he walked her to the driver’s side and stopped. He looked at her like he was memorizing her face, as if he needed to carry it with him into the hard, lonely hours ahead.
“What time do you leave?” she asked on a whisper.
“I figured I’d take off before noon. But wait—I need to get something for you. Don’t leave.”
The fact that he thought she might take off made her realize how tenuous this all was. Of course, she waited and two minutes later, he jogged back holding a football. A signed football—with what looked like forty Sharpie autographs.
“It took a little longer to get it for Seamus’s fundraiser. But I managed to snag the whole team, which is worth a lot more than just me.”
The humility—and the gesture—touched her as she took it.
“And you need this.” He added a long white envelope. “It’s the certification that it’s real from the NFL. That adds value, too. Tell Seamus I hope the right little guy in his ministry gets to take this home.”
She swallowed hard, taking the ball, not sure what to say. “Thank you. Tessa will be overjoyed.”
“But not if I take you away to Jacksonville.” He brushed his thumb under her eye, wiping away a tear with a smile. “But that won’t stop me from trying.”
She leaned into him and he kissed her on top of the head.
With one last hug, Lacey slid into the driver’s seat before she fell apart in front of him.
She pulled out of the driveway slowly, hands shaking on the steering wheel. The road blurred, lights streaking, and by the time she reached the first stoplight, she was crying in earnest—ugly, shaking sobs that made her chest hurt.
Because somewhere deep inside her, beneath the fear and logic and panic, a quiet, steady voice whispered the question that would not leave her alone as she drove home in tears:
What if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life?
The next morning,after a sleepless night, Lacey was at the dining room table at the Summer House, laptop open, coffee cooling untouched at her elbow. She hoped diving into work would clear the fog in her head and lift the pain in her heart.
The house was unusually quiet for a weekday morning. No baby crying or Meredith on the phone with a client. No music drifting from someone’s room. No Jonah in the kitchen, whipping up some unimaginably delicious breakfast.
She told herself that quiet was good. Quiet meant she could work.
She clicked through the file on her screen, forcing herself to focus on the Gilsons’ anniversary party. Seventy-five people, three generations, a Gulf-front dinner, a sunset vow renewal, kids’ activities that would keep the youngest entertained without exhausting the grandparents. It was the kind of project she loved and normally, she would have been energized by it.
This morning, she felt like she was pushing herself through mud.
She hadn’t told anyone about last night, not even her mother. The words Roman had said, the sight of him on one knee on theGood Time Girl, the weight of the ring between them—those felt too fragile to speak aloud.
Like if she talked about the proposal, it would become real in a way she wasn’t ready to manage. And they’d all have a conflicting opinion.
So she adjusted seating charts. She made notes about catering timelines. She drafted an email she didn’t send.
Her phone buzzed on the table and she grabbed it, convinced it would be Roman. It wasn’t. A florist she had a meeting with tomorrow—they could wait.
She was just getting into the rhythm of pretending she was fine when the front door popped open without a knock.
“Hey.”
