“Neither do I.” He kissed her on top of the head. “I do not want to give you up. But I owe Tessa my life, and I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.”
She just leaned into him, wishing she could go back in time and make a different decision that day in Rosemary Beach. She might not have had the thrill of falling for Roman Matteo, but she wouldn’t know the pain of hurting the woman who’d become a second mother to her.
“Let’s go,” she murmured. “I want to get this over with.”
Lacey’s sneakerspadded softly against the sun-washed docks of the marina, each step making her blood pump faster. Roman walked beside her, his hand clasped around hers, strong and steady.
Taking a deep breath, Lacey tried to settle her nerves, but failed. Relief and fear and anticipation and dread all stretched across her chest, nearly making her sick.
“Just remember what we practiced in the car,” Roman whispered. “And let me take ownership and the lead. This is on me, Lacey. I want her to know this wasn’t your idea.”
“It was my idea to find you in the first place.”
“But the whole pretending to be a couple?” He squeezed her hand. “I have to own that.”
TheGood Time Girlshimmered ahead, somehow brighter and shinier than Lacey had ever seen the boat.
Tessa crouched near the bow, scrubbing away, her hair twisted up in a bun and her sunglasses sliding down her nosefrom perspiration. Still beautiful, and utterly at home on a boat, something that sometimes surprised Lacey.
Of course, Lacey hadn’t been around in the “olden days” when the families rented boats. Apparently Artie had lived for the water, and Tessa was carrying on that tradition.
A sudden wash of affection nearly knocked Lacey over. She adored Tessa—had never met anyone quite like her. And what about work? They’d come so far, the two of them. From cautious acquaintances to work colleagues running a thriving little business to something that felt more like family.
And how had Lacey thanked her? Well, she thought it was by giving her a son. But Roman—and his mother—might very well be right. Tessa had guarded her secret for twenty-five years. And Lacey had?—
“Hey, hey, hey.” Tessa looked up and waved at them. “Where have you been, Romeo?”
“Actually, I went over to my hometown to see my parents.” He sounded serious, not like the Shakespeare-quoting fun guy he’d been the first time they’d met.
“Oh?” Tessa tossed them each a cleaning rag. “You can tell me all about it while you scrub the deck. Big party tomorrow. You in? My dad would love the celebrity appearance.”
Her dad…the ethics professor who did things “the right way.” Lacey heard enough about Artie to know the man would not have approved of the dishonesty that got them in this predicament.
Roman climbed aboard first, and Lacey followed, her legs wobbly on the boat, but not because she was no longer on dry land. She glanced around, taking in the tidy deck, the glossy white leather seating, the brilliant blue canvas shade stretched overhead.
“We actually need to talk to you,” Lacey blurted out, hearing how breathless her voice sounded. “Something important.”
Tessa’s brow furrowed slightly, lifting her sunglasses into her hair. She dropped onto the edge of the bow’s leather banquette. “You guys okay?”
Lacey opened her mouth—but before she could speak, she heard footsteps on the dock.
“Got the wrench,” Seamus called cheerfully as he walked up to the boat.
Lacey and Roman exchanged a quick look, his expression mirroring her thoughts. How long would this take? They needed privacy.
Seamus put one foot on the side of the boat. “I’ll get that loose connection—” He caught sight of Roman, stared for a moment, and nearly lost his footing. “Whoa?—”
Instantly, Roman leaped up and steadied the older man, helping him back onto the dock. “Careful there, sir.”
“Am I…am I…” Seamus drew back and put one hand on his chest, using the other to raise the bill of his ballcap to get a better look. “As I live and breathe, I donotbelieve it.”
Lacey had been around Roman long enough to know exactly what he didn’t believe. Now they’d have to make formal introductions and Seamus would fawn over the NFL player, and want an autograph. The faster they got that over with, the sooner they could talk to Tessa.
She climbed onto the dock to join them to make the introduction, almost used to the way people reacted to meeting a professional athlete.
“Seamus, this is Roman?—”
Ignoring her, he held up his hand and turned to Tessa. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a son? And that he is the spittin’ image of Artie Wylie? How could you keep that news from me, Tessa?”
