Page 10 of Never the Best

Aurora laughed. "He wants to pretend he's a big bad businessman, but he's a softie."

"He isnota softie, Aurora,” Luna reminded her friend. “He likes Betsy, and I think he's also a little afraid of her, so when she said, write a check, he wrote one."

Once we got menus from the bartender, Aurora and Luna dove straight into a conversation about a new architecture project they’d been assigned at the firm. They discussed the adaptive reuse concept, where Savannah Lace was turning an old textile warehouse into a modern co-working space. They were passionate about architecture as they talked with their hands. Luna’s bracelets jangled every time she pointed to make a case.

But I couldn’t focus. My eyes kept darting to Rhett’s table, where Josie was leaning into him. I caught Gary gesturing with his fork, Dixie May laughing, and Rhett, who was swirling a drink in his hand as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Pearl, sweetheart, what would you like?” Luna asked, obviously not for the first time.

I looked down at the cocktail menu in front of me and flipped it open. I skimmed over the drinks without really seeing them. My chest felt tight, my hands a little shaky. The thought of food, of eating anything at all whiletheywere here, while they could look over and see me, felt unbearable.

I settled on a glass of bubbly. It wasn’t about wanting the wine—I didn’t even particularly like it. But it felt safe. It gave me something to hold, something to sip on in small amounts. It wouldn’t make me feel full, and it avoided awkward questions like,“Why aren’t you drinking?”or, even worse,“Are you an alcoholic?”

What could I say? I waslikean alcoholic, only my chronic condition was diagnosed as anorexia. And, like alcoholism, you didn’t just get over it. It stayed with you, lurking in the corners of your mind, whispering doubts and lies on the bad days. Even on the good days, when I felt strong and healthy, it was there—a quiet, dormant presence I had to keep in check. Therapy helped, self-awareness helped, but the truth was, it was a lifelong battle. You didn’t cure it; you managed it, one meal, one choice, one thought at a time.

Aurora ordered a Negroni, Luna went for a Manhattan, and they both continued talking, including me here and there.

I tried to listen, I really did.

They debated the pros and cons of keeping some of the old architectural features intact, whether it was worth reinforcing the original beams or if it would be easier and moreefficient to replace them entirely. It was fascinating, but I couldn’t fully connect. The past was inundating me and sending all the wrong signals to my brain.

The bartender set my wine down, and I took a sip, the cold liquid burning slightly in my empty stomach. I hadn’t eaten since lunch—just a salad, light enough that I didn’t have to think about it—and the thought of ordering off the menu now made me sick. What iftheysaw me eating? What if they whispered and laughed like they had back then? It was irrational, I knew that, butfeardidn’t care.

Luna’s voice broke through my haze. “Pearl, what do you think? Is it worth saving the original windows, or would it look better with modern frames?”

“Oh,” I said, fumbling for an answer because I was pretty distracted. “From a finance perspective, I think refurbishing the originals would be more expensive than buying new ones. From an aesthetic perspective, the old windows have more character."

Luna grinned. “I like finance people like you who actually understand the business and look beyond the dollars and cents.”

Aurora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “She says that now, but when I go to her to get the budget approved, she's gonna give me hell.”

I tried to smile, to focus on the warmth of their banter, but the truth was, I felt like I was crumbling. My fingers tightened around the stem of my wineglass as I snuck another glance toward the dining room. Rhett was speaking, and Josie watched him like he hung the moon.

They were in love, weren’t they? Made sense. He’d proposed to her, regardless of what Aunt Hattie said about Josie havingtrappedRhett. Women didn’t do that anymore, especially since men didn’t have to marry a woman who was, as the old timers would say,in the family way.

"I need some nosh," Luna mumbled, perusing the menu. “Should we get some appetizers to share?"

I nodded in relief. This way, no one would notice that I wasn't ordering food, or ordering it and not eating anything. I hated thattheystill had this power over me, that just being in the same room asthemcould send me spiraling back into old habits, erecting familiar defenses. I hated that the idea of eating made me feel exposed and vulnerable. Most of all, I hated that no matter how far I’d come, part of me was still that sixteen-year-old girl by the pool, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

I managed to nibble on a truffle fry. If Luna or Aurora noticed that I wasn't eating much, they didn't comment.

We'd just gotten the check and dropped our credit cards for the bartender to split the bill when Dixie May came up to us. Her husband, Gary, who I hated with a passion, trailed behind her, grinning that easy, leering grin that made my insides cave in. I remembered it well.

"Hey, Fat Pearl, my friend here give it to you good or what?"

"Well, if it isn’t the Savannah Lace ladies," Dixie May said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she stopped in front of us. "And, my word, Pearl, can't believe you movedback to Savannah. I mean…we didn't expect you'd come back, did we, Gary?"

Gary winked at me. “You're lookin' good, Bumblebee.”

Before I could answer—not that I particularly wanted to—Luna glared at Gary. "What did you call her?" she demanded.

Gary shrugged. "You know that used to be her nickname?"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Luna stood up. She was in full biker bitch gear. Jangly bracelets, a skull on her leather belt that was around the loops of dark skinny jeans, and a tank top that showed her muscles and the tattoo of a dragon on her right arm.

"What? It's an adorable nickname." Dixie May fluttered her eyelashes, her smile widening just enough to make it clear she thought she had the upper hand.

"You were three years our juniors in high school, but even I know there's nothing adorable about that name." Luna crossed her arms over her leather jacket and fixed Dixie May with a threatening smirk. "Now, Dixie May, as I recall, you had a nickname as well. What was it?"

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