Page 30 of Never the Best

I wasn't over what happened to me, I realized. I needed to heal if I wanted to move forward. I set up an emergency appointment with my therapist on his online portal and fell into an exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER 11

Rhett

Escape! Somehow, at the age of thirty-two, my main goal in life had become to get away from my mother, my fiancée, her mother, my sister, and my father, and in that order.

They were talking about the wedding all day, every day. It was now only twelve months away. That was a whole fucking year, but if you heard Josie, you'd feel like we had minutes to go before tying the knot, andwhat the fuckabout the fucking flowers!

According to my friend Royal, I was behaving like a man who didn't want to get married. Royal had recently married the love of his life, and I knew he was happier than almost any other husband I knew.

"Why do we get married?" I wondered when I met him for a drink at The Alley Cat Lounge, a dimly lit speakeasy tucked into an unassuming brick alleyway downtown.

As was the norm with such establishments, the entrancewas marked only by a small, engraved plaque next to a nondescript black door. You had to know where it was to find it.

Inside, the bar was a cozy labyrinth of low ceilings, exposed brick walls, and vintage lighting. Edison bulbs added to the vintage theme, their warm glow reflecting off the polished brass bar top and the rows of glass shelves stocked with rare spirits.

All the furniture at the speakeasy, including the tables and chairs, were from the twenties and thirties. The mismatched but beautifully restored furniture added to the place’s appeal.

Royal rested against his leather armchair with an Old Fashioned in hand. I had my elbows on the antique table as I stared down at my glass of Johnny Walker Blue.

I took a sip and then loosened my tie. I'd already removed my suit jacket before I sat down. The weight of the day felt like it was peeling off me, layer by layer, in the sanctuary of this dark, quiet bar.

"Different people get married for different reasons." A smirk tugged at Royal's mouth. "I married for love."

"I don't love Josie."

"No," Royal agreed.

When I rolled up the sleeves of my white dress shirt, Royal sighed. "What? Wedding planning becoming too much for the Vanderbilt heir?"

I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. “You have no idea. If I hear one more conversation about hydrangeas versus peonies, I swear to God, I’m going to lose it.”

Royal took a slow sip of his drink. “Classic avoidance behavior."

"How did you…how did you walk away?" I asked. It was well-known in Savannah that Royal had broken ties with the Legere family. There were a few others I knew who'd done that, but the majority of us just put one foot in front of the other.

"I'm assuming you're asking about how I did it emotionally rather than financially?"

"Financially, I think my father has more to lose breaking off with me than the other way around." I managed the Vanderbilt wealth and did it profitably.

"Let me ask you a question." Royal set his glass down. "How do you feelafteryou speak to…say, your father?"

“Speak about what?”

“Anything. Just when you talk to him or are in his presence. How do you feel?

"Like I want to ram my fist into a wall,” I replied.

"Is that because you argue?"

"No one argues with George Vanderbilt."

Royal nodded. "You want his approval."

"Yes." I ran a hand through my hair. "He's my father. I don't want to disappoint him."

"Every encounter I had withanymember of my family, except for my grandmother, left me feeling like you do after you talk to your father," Royal explained. "What I realized was that, at its core, my family and I didn't share the same values. Once I internalizedthat, it made no sense to continue the farce of having a relationship. ThenGrandma died, and she was the last Legere I gave a fuck about."

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