Chapter 15 Lacey #2
Rachel drifted from one plant to the next, phone out, taking photo after photo—close-ups of blooms, wide shots of the lawn sloping toward the Gulf, finding angles no professional photographer had probably considered.
She crouched. She stood. She circled back and took the same picture again from a slightly different perspective. And, goodness, she drawled on and on with her sweet Carolina accent and her careful, deliberate moves.
“Oh, this would be stunning,” Rachel murmured. “Just stunning.”
Sebastian powered on about logistics.
“What about noise restrictions after ten?” he asked. “County ordinance?”
Kendra answered smoothly, outlining the cutoff times, the decibel limits.
“And transportation?” he continued. “Guests will imbibe, so we want shuttles. Can they idle here?”
“Yes,” Kendra said. “Within reason.”
Lacey added, “We can coordinate silent dancing with rented headsets.”
“We’ve been to a wedding at a winery with that,” he said. “Great fun.”
“And no violating ordinances for our neighbors,” Kendra added, launching into a story about a wedding last week that just…took too long to tell.
The garden tour stretched on, and Rachel focused on florals—what was native, what could be brought in, and could they move the sea oats for better water views?
Move the sea oats?
Kendra just smiled at that one while Lacey stole a glance at the time, her heart dropping as she realized they were way past an hour now and pushing two.
Sebastian had a whole new set of practical questions regarding security, timing, and the possibility of arriving or leaving by helicopter.
Seriously?
Meanwhile, Rachel paused at each transition path, testing the walk in heels, asking what happened if the ground was wet. If it rained. If the wind picked up. If the sky fell.
Kendra calmly—and slowly—explained everything. Lacey was grateful for her knowledge, but it was thorough enough that she could give the tour next time. And each explanation took forever and generated ten new questions and endless discussions.
She could feel time evaporate—not just intellectually, but physically. At one point, she just gave up the fight. That trip, that apartment, that day in Jacksonville, five hours away, might not happen today.
Lacey’s tablet flashed with a new message from Roman.
How’s it going? Still going to make 11:30?
She typed back under the pretense of checking notes.
Wrapping up. Almost done.
But it didn’t feel almost done, not at all. Rachel wanted secondary spaces, backup ceremony options if it rained, dressing rooms, catering kitchens, the bathroom that guests would use.
Who cared where the guests went to the bathroom?
Rachel did, which meant Lacey should.
Letting go of her own issues, Lacey realized it was the bride who was growing increasingly anxious. She wasn’t happy about something and Lacey sure didn’t want it to be Tessa Wylie Events.
“What do you think?” Lacey whispered privately when they were leaving the bride’s dressing room and Kendra stepped away to take a call.
She winced, which somehow didn’t make her any less attractive. “Compared to the place in Charleston? It would be easier up there, but this has a destination feel. Still, not perfect.”
“Nothing’s perfect,” Lacey replied. “But you cannot feel stressed or disappointed.”
Her narrow shoulders sank. “I’m so glad you understand,” Rachel said. “That’s important to me in a wedding planner.”
And if they went back to Charleston and married closer to home, Tessa Wylie Events would lose this job. Lacey did not want that to happen, so she ignored the next text from Roman.
The walkthrough dragged on until Rachel finally took Lacey aside and whispered, “I know it’s short notice, but I don’t suppose there are other venues nearby we could see today?”
Lacey’s chest tightened and her brain whirred. “I…don’t know offhand…” She did know, however. “There is one place near Destin—”
“No, Rach,” Sebastian said, strong and clearly in charge. “This is a fun idea to come down here for the wedding, but I think we should just stick with Plan A and drop the Florida destination idea.”
Rachel looked visibly disappointed as she turned to Lacey. “I want it. His family? Not so much.”
“You have the final say,” her fiancé assured her. “I promised you that. But another venue would have to be perfect and maybe have more life around it for a party weekend.”
Instantly Lacey thought of Seaside Gardens, which would be perfect. But…today? “Is there any chance you could come back? I do have a venue in town with water views and plenty of nightlife around.”
“Can we go see it?” Rachel asked, looking up at her husband.
“We’re only here through tonight,” he explained to Lacey. “So, if you can get us in…”
If she got them in, she was definitely canceling with Roman.
“Uh, let me make a call…” Lacey stepped away, her heart spiraling. Please be booked. Please be booked.
“Wait, wait, Lacey.” Rachel came closer. “Never mind. Sebastian is right. He’s calling the car. We’ll let you know what we decide about this estate. If we do Florida, we’ll do this, but I don’t think he’s convinced.”
Lacey knew one thing: If Tessa were here, they’d already be on their way to Seaside Gardens.
But before Lacey could whip up her inner salesperson, Sebastian’s car arrived. The couple left and Lacey feared she’d never see them again.
No one would know that she’d failed in her job…no one but Lacey.
She rushed her goodbye to Kendra, tried to stay positive, and got back in her car, calling Roman immediately.
“I’m done,” she said breathlessly. “I’m on my way.”
There was a pause, then, “Okay. See you soon.”
Traffic had been as miserable as it could be in Destin, which was pretty darn bad. Lacey hit every light, got stuck behind an accident, sat in blistering delays, and ended up two hours late from her original eleven o’clock arrival time when she pulled into Roman’s driveway.
She killed the engine, sat for one breath, then two, staring straight ahead to calm down.
They could still go. It wasn’t impossible. Jacksonville was a long drive, but not space travel. If they left now, they could make it by early evening. Maybe miss the appointment, but surely they could see the place tomorrow.
She snatched her tote, smoothed her top with a hand that didn’t feel steady, and got out. The humid air wrapped around her like a damp towel as she walked to the front door and rang the bell, even though she knew he was home. She’d seen his car.
The door opened quickly.
Roman stood there barefoot in athletic shorts and a faded T-shirt, a baseball cap turned backward. He looked like the version of him she loved most—not a pro-ball player or a face that could be famous. Just a good guy who she really loved.
He didn’t look mad—not that she’d know what “mad” looked like on him. She’d never seen him angry, certainly not at her.
Which was a reminder that she didn’t really know this man she was considering living with. Well, wasn’t that the point of living together?
His expression was gentle, but the corners of his mouth were set like he’d been bracing himself for disappointment and had finally stopped fighting it.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she whispered back.
For a second, she didn’t move, and neither did he, and the space between them felt heavy and wide. She wanted him to pull her in—wanted the warmth and the reassurance and the easy laughter that always came so fast with them.
Roman stepped aside. “Come in.”
She walked into the cool air-conditioning and the quiet.
It smelled like him—clean soap, something citrusy, a faint trace of cologne.
The normalness of his living room—the throw blanket folded neatly, the TV off, a bowl on the counter with protein bars like some people had candy—made her throat tighten.
She turned toward him, ready to launch into the apology she’d been writing in her mind for the last hour.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t plan for it to take that long. They just kept asking questions and I kept thinking it was about to wrap up and then—”
“I know,” he said softly. He reached out, touching her elbow to draw her closer. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” she admitted, and the truth came out, raw and immediate. “I think we lost the job anyway.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “After all that?”
She nodded and eyed the sofa, which looked inviting. “Are we going now?”
Something shifted in his face and he shook his head.
“No?”
“We’re not going to get that apartment,” he said.
“How do you know?”
Roman exhaled slowly, then tipped his head toward the couch. “Sit down.”
She sat, but it didn’t feel like resting. He took the chair across from her instead of sitting beside her, and the choice—small, probably unintentional—hurt a little.
He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs.
“The agent called,” he said. “She said someone else requested a showing today. She thinks they’ll sign for it today and it’s first come, first served. She couldn’t hold them off until tomorrow.”
Lacey groaned. “I’m so sad.”
He gave a quiet, almost-smile. “Yeah. Me, too.”
She waited for him to say something sharper. But Roman just looked at her, and the softness in his eyes made her throat burn.
“I kept thinking,” he said slowly, “that you were going to walk in the door with your hair all windblown and your smile all bright and say, ‘Okay, I’m here, let’s go,’ like it was nothing. Like work happened, but then you chose us anyway.”
Lacey’s chest tightened.
“I did choose us,” she said, too quickly. “I was trying to. I was trying to do both.”
Roman nodded, accepting the words, but not fully soothed by them. “I know you were. And I know what you were doing was important.”
“It was,” Lacey insisted. “It is. A huge client. A major opportunity. Tessa needed me.”
Roman’s eyes flickered at the name, not jealous, exactly—but aware that there was another person in this relationship that neither of them had invited, but both of them felt.