Page 5 of The Bourbon Bargain

five

Paige

“Thankyouforgettingme out of Savannah and away from everything,” I say, tucking my head into Alex’s shoulder in the back of the cab. My best friend saved me, once again, from a situation I had no control over, and I am unendingly grateful to have at least one person ready to take on this hot mess express.

“It’s pretty unusual for you to tell me you’re hiding from your Mama, who wanted to marry you off, and the next time I hear from you it’s because you actuallyaremarried and things aren’t going well. I thought the obvious response was to get you up here just so I could hear the whole story,“ Alex says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze. “Besides, it’s been too long since you’ve been to The City to visit, and I found a really good new Korean fusion restaurant you will die for.”

I smile, the movement feeling foreign on my face. “Of course you did. Does it have a Michelin star or a mouse problem?” I tease.

“I can’t say for sure, but I didn’t personally see any rodents,” Alex says with a trace of laughter in his voice.

“Sounds like one of your winners, then.” I sigh deeply and feel a weight lift off my chest. It’s so nice to feel normal and to leave the mess of my life behind in Savannah. A streak of guilt passes as I think of the habit I’ve made of running from disasters. I’m not very good at sticking around through the hardships, it seems. Maybe I can add that to my vision board for next year—stop running from your messes. That’ll be great.

The Manhattan skyline looms out the windows in bits and snatches between buildings as we make our way through Brooklyn to Alex’s apartment. New York feels like the polar opposite of Savannah. Fast to slow and big enough to get lost in instead of being front-page news. It’s a welcoming relief.

Alex’s fifth-floor walk-up has a decent, if partially obstructed, view of the Williamsburg Bridge and a lot of mural art featured prominently on neighboring buildings, which of course is super inspiring for the hipster art scene that Alex loves.

“I’ve got a great new kombucha from the local artisan market that you have to try,” Alex says, unlocking a series of deadbolts to open the door. “It’s ginger, which is so warming for these cold months when everything is gray and the stupid snow sticks around too long.”

I shiver in my light jacket and think a hot latte sounds better, but I’m willing to settle. “That sounds great. I could use something to warm up. I didn’t anticipate the cold. Savannah was so mild, and I packed so quickly I didn’t think about a winter coat. I guess I really have been away from New York too long.”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty of coats you can borrow if you need one.” Alex pushes open the door and bows me inside the tiny one-bedroom he’s lucky enough to call home without the requisite roommate situation that New York City is known for.

I execute my best curtsy and step into the vibrant apartment, decked out with deep blue-green walls in the kitchen, exposed brick in the living room, and funky mid-century light fixtures. I loved living in The City during my internships and would have considered moving here permanently had I not anticipated running the Xenios Group from Savannah. My heart squeezes involuntarily when I remember The Mansion and the hotels will be under new ownership come the new year, and I instantly spiral back into anger and frustration.

“Quick, tell me something about your life that is really fun and distract me before I start to cry,” I say, flopping onto Alex’s mustard yellow velvet sofa that was probably a vintage store purchase. Or maybe it came off the street. You never know with Alex’s taste running so eclectic.

“I went to a warehouse party last week and ended up coming home with a drag queen’s wig on and in someone else’s sequined pants,” Alex deadpans. “The wig is in the oven because it freaked me out so bad the next morning. Be sure to remove it before pre-heating if you plan to bake, as I’m pretty sure it’s plastic and will melt.” Alex hands me a cold bottle of kombucha.

I burst into laughter at the mental image. “You did not,” I say on a wheeze.

“The sequined pants are actually really awesome. I felt like Harry Styles, so that was most definitely a good trade.” Alex falls onto the couch next to me, reaches his hand under, and drags out the red sequined pants. “You can wear them if you need a pick me up.”

“You have the strangest life,” I say, holding my sides from the laughter. It feels wonderful to laugh like this again.

“I think you could probably beat me, as of late. Feel like sharing what the last few weeks have been like since I saw you at your debutante ball?” Alex settles back on the couch, tucking a leg under him and giving me his full attention.

My laughter and mirth fade but I give him a look of appreciation and comfort. Alex and I used to have plenty of heart-to-hearts back in high school before he transitioned, and I am so glad it feels just as natural to want to pour my heart out to my best friend now. Though his hair is shorter and his mama can’t make him wear frilly dresses anymore, not that she had much luck when Alex was younger, either, I’m so glad it feels just as natural to want to pour my heart out to my best friend now. I take a sip of the effervescent drink and wrinkle my nose at the taste. Kombucha is not for me, but it certainly was bracing. I set the bottle down and clear my throat to begin.

“Well, let’s see. I met a man, ran away to Atlanta with him, fell in love, got married, and then he bought my legacy out from under me and broke my heart,” I summarize.

Alex whistles. “When you commit to something, youreallycommit. Tell me more about the man who finally swept you off your feet and got you interested enough to marry him within a week. And please say it wasn’t some idealistic bullshit like you wanted to stay a virgin until you got married, because that is archaic and something the patriarchy and religion have used to control female bodies for millennia.”

I brush a finger under my eyes when I feel the tears start. “Nothing so archaic as that. His name is Hayes Olsen, and he’s the CFO of Olympus International. I met him at my debutante ball, right after you left and I snuck up to the rooftop garden to get away from Mama.”

I sniffle and actually sit with the memory for a minute before continuing because it really was so beautiful. That first meeting will forever haunt me in the best, most romantic sense.

“Alex, it was like lightning. Finding him in the moonlit garden, wreathed in cigar smoke with a glass of bourbon in hand, it felt like I was seeing a man for the very first time. His voice literally drew goosebumps up my arms, and his eyes, wow, were they something to fall into. I knew within the hour that he was something special I wanted to know more about, so when I saw him the next day after fleeing the family dinner Mama used as the cover story for trying to marry me off, I thought my best option was to go with him to Atlanta to get away and maybe get to know him a little better.”

“I cannot believe your mama tried to marry you off,” Alex says, smacking a hand into a round pillow and hauling it against his chest as he becomes more involved in my story. Southerners live for juicy family drama. “Talk about archaic. That arranged marriage thing isn’t for people like us. No wonder you ran off.”

It’s refreshing that Alexhasn’theard all of this second or third-hand and he’s hearing it from the source.Thank you, New York City, for not caring a lick about an insignificant Southern belle and her would-be romance gone wrong.

I nod and pinch my lips together for a moment to staunch the hint of nausea that rises at the memory. “To Garrison Daniels, of all people, so we could join the family businesses. I thought she had lost her mind. I ran out of dinner and straight into Hayes’s arms, it turned out.”

“That is insane. I always knew Caroline Thackery Fairchild was a calculating woman, but that seems beyond her normal level of overbearing pageant mom-ing.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me. There have been many lines that she has crossed in this life, but that was too much for me.”

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