Page 22 of The Summer We Made Promises (The Destin Diaries #3)

T he conversations by text and phone that Lacey had been having with Roman had somehow given her a false sense of readiness for tonight’s family dinner. She’d only seen him once since they met in Rosemary Beach a week ago.

He’d taken a one-month lease on a three-bedroom house on Lagoon Drive, not five minutes inland from the Summer House.

Lacey had stopped by to see him and the house, which was clean and recently remodeled, situated on a canal with lovely sunset views.

When he showed her around, he was most excited about the dock… well, second-most excited.

He’d practically jumped out of his skin when she told him he was formally invited to the Summer House for dinner to meet her mother, grandmother…and his biological mother and grandmother.

Now they were minutes from the start of that evening, and all her mental and emotional groundwork seemed to evaporate into thin air. What would happen? Would Tessa know? Would he blurt out the truth?

Stepping outside when she heard the rumble of a sports car pulling into the driveway, she felt flushed despite the cool white sundress she wore. Nerves stretched across her chest every time she thought about what she was doing.

Breaking promises. Telling lies. And pretending to have a boyfriend.

The engine of a navy blue Porsche— what else? —quieted as she reached the bottom step, where she paused to watch him climb out of the car.

Holy…moly. Forget whether or not Tessa would recognize her own son—who in that house, or the world, would believe that Lacey Knight would attract the attention of this guy?

He wore a loose-fitting white linen shirt that somehow made his shoulders even broader, and khaki pants that looked clean, pressed, and wildly expensive.

His hair might have been combed, but the Gulf breeze tousled his soft golden waves.

With his sunglasses on, all she could really see was his smile, which blinded even from twenty feet away.

“Hey, can you help me with my gifts?” he called.

“You brought gifts?” she asked, hating that her voice sounded slightly high-pitched as she approached the car.

“Of course. I know there’s a slew of women waiting in there, so I did my best. Flowers for your mother because that’s what my mom would want.

” He handed her a fat bouquet of sunflowers and white lilies.

“And this cute little plant because you said your grandmother liked roses and this is a miniature rose bush.”

She gathered the bouquet and took the handle of a sweet bucket that held a tiny bush with delicate pink buds.

“And for the others, chocolate. Not so creative, but what woman doesn’t like chocolate?” He produced a gold bag emblazoned with the logo of a high-end candy shop in town. He leaned down and whispered, “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that my birth mother and her mother are both here.”

Here and about to be blindsided, she thought.

“Roman, this was all very thoughtful.” She raised the bouquet and bucket as he hooked the bag on her free finger. “They’ll be so grateful.”

“I didn’t forget you, of course.” Once again, he reached into the car and produced a small bag. “I hope my girlfriend will wear my jersey.”

He pulled out a turquoise football jersey, holding it open to reveal “Matteo 14” on the back. “It’s big but…” His lips lifted in a smile that could melt the chocolate she held. “You’ll look spectacular in it.”

All her stress instantly morphed into a different sensation—this one making every female cell in her body tingle right down to her toes.

“I’ll wear it with pride,” she said with a breathless laugh. “Gifts weren’t necessary. They’re all pretty excited to meet you.”

He pushed the sunglasses up and she got a good look at his whiskey-colored eyes trimmed with thick lashes. And…more tingling.

“What’s our game plan?” he asked.

She drew back. “I didn’t know we needed one.”

“If she’s suspicious, I mean,” he explained. “Flat-out denial? Laugh like hyenas? Or…change of subject? Anything but the truth.”

She looked up at him, a little surprised to hear that proclamation.

“If the truth is ever going to come out,” he explained, “I have to be straight with my parents first. They deserve to know before anyone else.”

She thought about that, nodding. “I get it.”

“So?” He inched back and made a casual gesture toward his face with the bag he held. “Look hard. Would you know instantly? Is it that obvious?”

She did look, hard and long, happy for the excuse to drink in every delicious detail of the man’s face. He wasn’t GQ model perfect—his nose was a little crooked and he had a light scar above one brow, but oof . He looked good.

But that wasn’t what he’d asked. Would Tessa know she was staring into the face of her own son? Other than the golden-brown eyes and light hair, he didn’t look exactly like Tessa. Strong bones and a wide smile, but her face was so feminine and beautiful.

“She’d have to be looking for it,” Lacey finally said. “She doesn’t know your name, or she would have reacted to it the first time she saw you on my Instagram account. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition. I’m sure they’ll all be too…distracted by you.”

He gave an easy laugh. “I’ll pull out all my charm.”

“Don’t overdo it,” she warned. “I don’t think I can handle too much.”

Still laughing, he put his arm around her, taking the rose bucket and flowers.

“Come on, Lacey. Lead me to the women wolves.” He finally slowed his step and looked up at the house. “Nice crib, by the way. I love this place. But you know, my mom always says the real beauty of a house is the people inside.”

“Oh, I like?—”

The front door opened and Tessa stood there, a G&T in one hand, the other stretched out in greeting. “‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou?’”

Lacey sucked in a soft breath as she felt the man next to her freeze mid-step, looking up at…his biological mother. For what felt like an eternity, he didn’t say a word. Lacey waited, her heart hammering, suddenly very, very uncertain that this was such a good idea.

No, of course it wasn’t. It was madness, pure and?—

“‘Deny thy father and refuse thy name,’” he replied as he climbed the stairs.

What? What did he mean? Was he?—

“And he quotes Shakespeare,” Tessa said, throwing her head back with a laugh.

“My high school English teacher was married to the football coach. They thought it would be hilarious if the team did a production of Romeo and Juliet .” He held out the bag of chocolates. “You must be Tessa.”

She blinked up at him, speechless for a split second. Long enough for Lacey to feel her whole body tense.

“I am,” she said, her eyes flashing. “And you”—she opened the door wider to invite him in—“are just what the doctor ordered around here. Come and make all the ladies swoon.”Laughing, he walked in and stepped toward the living room.

Behind him, Tessa whipped around to Lacey and mouthed, “Oh, my gawd!”

Woman, you have no idea.

But Lacey just smiled and tried to relax into the evening. It would either be the best night she’d had in a long time…or a nightmare.

Jo Ellen was downright giddy in the presence of NFL “greatness” as she put it. Mom acted just weird enough for Lacey to know she was under the Roman Matteo spell, too. Even Maggie’s icy exterior thawed under the warmth of their guest.

And Tessa?

Well, she certainly had no idea that the center of attention at their outdoor dining table was the baby she’d given up for adoption twenty-five years earlier. And that gave Lacey mixed feelings—guilt, remorse, excitement, and an overwhelming desire to tell her the truth.

Lacey hadn’t expected that last sensation.

She’d been so wrapped up in the fact that she’d broken her promise, so fearful that Tessa would take one look at the guy and burst into tears, that she didn’t realize how much she wanted Tessa to know. How could she not?

Roman was nothing short of amazing.

They all chattered through Maggie and Jo Ellen’s Bolognese reprise, which was even better this time. He regaled them with stories about life in the NFL and several about his childhood in a beach town that sounded as magical as this one.

Classy right down to his last strand of DNA—shared, as it was, with a few people around the table—he consistently asked questions and listened to every answer.

He had Lacey’s mother talking animatedly about her design business, absorbed every detail of Grandma Maggie’s recent trip to Europe, and was genuinely sympathetic when Jo Ellen talked about the late, great Artie Wylie.

Well, after all, that was his grandfather, although not one of the other women seemed to suspect anything. Even Tessa. Especially Tessa.

And that made the longing to tell her the truth even stronger.

“Lacey tells me you grew up fishing,” Tessa said as the meal came to an end.

“Had a rod in my hand at two,” he said. “I was really lucky to live in a house on the water with a boat dock, just teeming with redfish, trout, and so much snook it was a joke.”

“Did your father fish?” she asked.

“I taught him,” Roman said with a laugh. “I don’t know how but it was like I was born knowing how to catch a fish.”

Lacey stared at her half-eaten food, slowly setting her fork down before she had the courage to look at Tessa. Was this it? Was she going to put two and two together and come up with…Artie the fisherman?

“And you want to fish while you’re here?” she asked.

“Like I want to breathe,” he joked.

“You’re in luck,” she said brightly. “My sister just sent my father’s old rods and reels down for a local charity. You two up for a fishing trip tomorrow on the boat?”

A whole day on the boat with Tessa and Roman? Maybe that’s when they’d tell her.

“I’d love that,” Roman answered without hesitation, reaching for Lacey’s hand. “Our first fishing date. Should be fun, huh, Lace?”

She slid her fingers into his and tried to ignore the jolt of his touch. “Absolutely,” she agreed.