“You’re family, Viv.” He winked at her. “All those summers and diary entries? Come on, kid.”
Kid. Somehow, she’d ended up right back in 1993. Offering an easy laugh, she shook her head and suddenly wanted nothing more than an excuse. What should she say?
“I’d love—” Her phone vibrated and she seized the opportunity, pulling it out to check the screen. “Oh, dear.”
Lacey:Mom. I need you. Like, now. Please. I’m still in Destin, can we talk?
Huh. Lacey hadn’t gone to Jacksonville with Roman after her walkthrough in the morning? What was wrong?
“What is it?” he asked.
The excuse I needed, she thought. “It’s Lacey,” she said, reading the next text as it appeared.
Lacey: I can’t do this. I’m going to ruin everything. What do I do?
“I have to go,” she said simply. “She needs me to talk her off a ledge.”
“Good luck with that.” He gave her a cursory hug and walked off, leaving her feeling…yeah. Disappointed.
There was no other way to describe it.
Vivien wrappedboth hands around a stemless wine glass and exhaled, the tension of the day loosening just a fraction as she leaned back against the cushioned banquette. Lacey had chosen a small neighborhood bar and grill with a forgettable name and an even more forgettable atmosphere.
It wasn’t sunny, noisy, or full of tourists, so it did the trick. Instead, the lights were low, there was some quiet jazz playing, and it felt just private and somber enough for both their moods.
Vivien’s mood wasn’t great—but her daughter looked positively wrecked. She sat across from Vivien, her big blue eyes haunted with a world of hurt and worry, her shoulders slumped. She’d left this morning looking like a sharp and elegant event planner with smooth waves and a slick outfit, but her clothes were a little wrinkled and her hair was downright bedraggled.
They’d hugged when Lacey arrived—longer than usual, a little tighter. Something was definitely bothering her, and Vivien was willing to bet it had everything to do with the fact that she was sitting at a bar with her mother and not hanging out with her boyfriend in Jacksonville.
“So,” Vivien said lightly, lifting her glass with a wry smile. “I take it my wishing you good luck didn’t help much today.”
She made a glum face. “What’s the opposite of luck? That’s what I got handed today.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Vivien grunted, hating when Lacey was unhappy about anything. “Tell me everything.”
She did—a long nightmare at Tidewater, the bride’s endless questions, the way time slipped through her fingers no matter how tightly she tried to hold it. All underscored by how much theproject mattered to Tessa and how badly Lacey wanted to prove her worth and sign a big and profitable event.
Then came the talk with Roman, and the bombshell.
“Wait. What?” Vivien leaned in. “He asked you tomoveto Jacksonville? To live with him? I thought you two had just planned to spend a day or two there for fun. But the trip was to…”
“Find a place to live,” Lacey finished softly.
Vivien leaned back, emotions swirling as she processed this stunning news.
Lacey looked right at her with that mix of challenge and guilt and hope and doubt all in one glance—taking Vivien back two decades to a little girl who’d pulled a doll from a toy store shelf and started a saucy walk toward the cash register as if wanting it made her mother agree to buy it.
“Why are you smiling?” Lacey asked.
“I just had the flash of a memory,” she said.
“About what?”
Vivien closed her eyes. “Just you as a little girl.”
“Well, I’m not a little girl, Mom, but, yes, Roman has asked me to move in with him. At least for the season.”
“Okay,” she said, not wanting to react until she knew everything and until she was actually asked for advice. Because this wasn’t five-year-old Lacey—this wastwenty-five-year-old Lacey. Her daughter was a grown woman with free will and a strong sense of right and wrong. And she was in love. “And after the season?”
