Chapter 11 Lacey
By the time Lacey, Meredith, and Jonah—with Atlas in a harness against his chest— reached the top of the Back Porch’s steps, the sky had softened into that familiar Destin palette of peach and coral melting into lavender.
The breeze off the water brushed her bare arms, warm but gentle, carrying salt and grilled shrimp and music from a small quartet on the sand.
Lacey walked between her cousins, who were teasing each other like only a brother and sister could.
Sometimes, when she was with them, she wished she’d had siblings.
But then she remembered that she’d grown up with these two, spent every holiday and many weekends with them, so they truly were the closest thing to siblings she’d ever had.
Which was why she had pushed for a dinner alone with them, so they could really talk. Because Lacey needed advice and she respected her cousins’ opinions as much as anyone’s. They were older, wiser, and certainly more experienced, and they knew Lacey well.
Atlas snoozed in what Jonah called his “baby pouch,” his tiny cheek pressed into the soft gray fabric of his father’s T-shirt.
Jonah moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned how to navigate the world without waking a baby—one arm instinctively curved around the bundle, his steps measured, his body angled slightly forward as if shielding Atlas from wind and noise.
Meredith walked on Lacey’s other side, her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail, a chic linen dress swaying against her knees. She looked calm in that effortless way Meredith always did, but only a close cousin like Lacey knew that nothing was effortless for Meredith Lawson.
Effort was her middle name, her worldview, and her belief system. And in these past few weeks, she’d put a lot of effort into getting over the loss of an unexpected pregnancy.
Jonah, for all his confidence as a father, was recovering from his own shocking grief—the tragic death of his girlfriend, newborn Atlas’s mother.
But somehow, they both managed to laugh and prove that they weren’t just fine, they were thriving.
And that made them inspirational, amazing, and the perfect people to give Lacey advice on her complicated situation. God willing, by the end of this dinner she’d have clarity.
An attractive hostess greeted them with a smile, adding a surprised coo when she spotted Atlas’s little head. “Where would you like to take that darling baby? Inside or out?”
“Outside,” they answered in unison, getting a laugh.
Then the hostess put a finger to her lips, quieting them. “We’ll wake the baby.”
“Nothing wakes this guy,” Jonah said. “Unless it’s the A/C coming on at two a.m., then he’s up and ready to party.”
Chatting about babies, they followed her past the open bar and the hum of conversation, along the original “porch” that gave the famous eatery its name.
Outside, they stepped onto the wide deck over the sand, with an unobstructed view of the mirror-calm Gulf.
For a moment, Lacey wished she didn’t have such a hard subject on her heart. The evening was tailor-made for relaxing, and she so wanted to chill with two of her favorite people. Well, two and a half.
Lanterns glowed softly above wooden tables. The air was full of laughter and clinking glasses, of couples leaning close, of locals and tourists, all watching as gulls skimmed the surface of the water and flew toward the horizon.
They ordered drinks—Meredith a crisp white wine, Jonah a light beer, Lacey a cocktail with something citrusy and pink. They let Jonah pick appetizers as he shared stories of his adventures in culinary school.
Lacey watched him, marveling—not for the first time—at the man he had become.
The Jonah who’d arrived in a dusty van months ago had been hollow-eyed, guarded, moving through life like a ghost in borrowed skin. The Jonah who’d returned with Atlas after Carly’s death had been shattered, raw, barely holding himself together.
This Jonah? He was still grieving, still human, still imperfect—but he was here, present, engaged, and managing an infant. It was so far from where he’d been months ago and continents away from the mess he’d been after his mother died when he was fifteen.
When Atlas stirred, Jonah’s hand moved without thought, a gentle pat, a quiet sway. The baby settled again.
“It’s discipline,” he said, in answer to Lacey’s question about the mood at culinary school.
“Not like we’re trapped or scared, but everything in the classroom and kitchens is so purposeful and structured.
I’m learning every day and I don’t hate it.
I do sometimes hate my béchamel sauce, but some days, it’s my best friend. ”
Meredith smiled. “That instructor I met the day when I stopped by with Atlas? He thinks you are a superstar.”
“Chef Broussard.” Jonah looked skyward. “Don’t be fooled by his niceness. He’s ruthless in the kitchen.”
When the server returned with hush puppies and peel-and-eat shrimp, Lacey realized she’d been smiling for ten straight minutes.
The conversation shifted to Meredith, who never liked talking about herself. But she was halfway through what Lacey knew would be her one and only glass of wine, mellowed enough to brush back a stray hair and be honest when Lacey asked her how she was really doing.
“I’m okay,” she said softly. “I’ve enjoyed the break and taking care of this little guy. But if we close on a big local project, then I might stay for a few months and manage a Destin office of Acacia Architecture.”
Jonah groaned. “And I’m going to be scrambling for child care, since Grandma and Jo Ellen are always off somewhere, and Kate’s gone.”
Meredith held up her hand. “I still have time for him and we’ll work it out, Jonah. The house is full of help.”
“You might stay?” Lacey leaned closer to Meredith. “How did I not hear about this?”
“Uh, I think his name is Roman,” Jonah said with a wry smile. “You’ve been checked out in the end zone, Spacey.”
She laughed at the old nickname and didn’t bother to deny the allegation. “So much that I missed the possibility of Meredith not going back to Atlanta?”
“I’ll go back,” Meredith said. “I just love this Lakeside job and if Acacia gets the project and I run it? Major professional coup.”
“The only coup that matters to Miss Perfect,” Jonah teased. Kind of teased.
She shot her brother a look, but the atmosphere was too lovely for an argument.
The two of them had always had different work ethics—especially after Aunt Melissa died. Meredith was an obsessed workaholic, and Jonah was always more laidback. But now, he seemed to do a great job of balancing his culinary school schedule and being a single dad.
“So,” Meredith said, tilting her head. “Speaking of Roman—why isn’t he here with us tonight?”
Because she purposely hadn’t asked him. “This is cousin time,” she said, picking up her cocktail. “No outsiders allowed, remember? Club rules.”
Meredith snorted. “I forgot about the Cousin Club and that treehouse my dad built.”
They sank into the old memory for a moment, sharing a few blasts from the past—like the time Jonah decided to build a swing and the only thing that swung was the treehouse’s roof.
“Clearly, we knew then which of us would be an architect,” Meredith joked.
“Back to Roman,” Jonah said after a few more Cousin Club memories. “I feel like he’s not here for a reason.”
“Stop being so perceptive,” Lacey teased.
Meredith lifted a brow and eyed the appetizer platters. “Oh? Is everything okay with him?”
Lacey laughed nervously. “Wonderful. Exciting. Terrifying.”
“Ahh.” Jonah grinned. “The romance trifecta.”
“He leaves in about two weeks for training camp in Jacksonville,” she added.
“You knew that was coming, right?” Meredith asked, plucking a hush puppy.
“Yes, but I didn’t know he’d want me to join him. To move to Jacksonville and…live together.”
Meredith coughed on the first bite, then covered by waving her hand. “That’s hot,” she said, even though Lacey suspected the heat wasn’t why she’d nearly choked.
“Are you going to?” Jonah asked.
Lacey sighed. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.
” She laughed with them at the vague reply.
“Well, I told him I would, but then Tessa announced she needed to pull back from work for personal reasons, offered me a raise, and gave me more responsibility. In fact, she is basically handing me a direct path to a fantastic career as an event planner. Here. In Destin.”
Jonah and Meredith stared at her, processing her dilemma.
“I can’t say yes to both,” Lacey finally said. “Even though, in a way, I already have. And I haven’t told my mom yet. I don’t know what to choose or do or think or what.”
The table went quiet.
Lacey smiled. “And that, dear cousins, is why you are here tonight. Advice and counsel, humor and hope, and very clear direction are all welcome. Hit me.”
Meredith cleared her throat and spoke first, hush puppies abandoned. “You’ve built something real with Tessa, Lace. You have momentum and stability, and a future no matter what happens to you.”
Lacey nodded, not at all surprised her career-focused cousin went this way.
“Roman’s world is…unpredictable,” she continued. “He could get traded to…wherever they have football teams. Far. He could get injured. Anything can happen.”
“Anything can happen in any relationship,” Jonah countered. “If this little guy”—he rubbed Atlas’s back—“and what happened to his mother isn’t proof of that, I don’t know what is.”
Lacey turned to him, curious about where he was going.
“I mean, you can’t plan a relationship over what might happen.” He punctuated that by sliding a peeled shrimp into cocktail sauce and popping it into his mouth, followed by a cringe. “Oof. There is such a thing as too much Worcestershire, you know? Chef B would say, ‘Edit, please, edit.’”