Page 46 of Never the Best

CHAPTER 17

Rhett

Iwas done.

I probably had been for a while, but until I spent time with Pearl, I didn’t realize how far I had fallen from who I had hoped to become. I admired her. She’d overcome unfathomable pain to live her life on her terms. The irony of being inspired by Pearl to live better when I’d been so clueless as a teenager wasn’t lost on me.

Ihadwanted to talk to Josie privately at my place, but she insisted that we go to Elizabeth’s on 37thfor dinner. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

I had decided to end our engagement.

I didn’t love Josie—and I’dneverlove someone like her. Getting married for the sake of reputation and status was making less and less sense to me. It wasn’t going to be easy. Hell no! Josie would fight this. My parents would be absolutely against it. But as Royal put it, George Vanderbilt didn’t have to marry and live with Josie; I did, and I didn’twant to. It was as simple as that, and would be complicated as fuck to navigate. In our world, we didn’t do things ornotdo them because of the heart’s desire. We followed a path put in front of us by society because wewere, after all, society. If the elite didn’t follow the dictates, the world order would fall apart. I guess I was about to topple said order.

Bring out the gallows!

“I’ve been dying to eat here for ages,” Josie exclaimed as we sat at the bar, waiting for our table to be ready.

I appreciated a good restaurant as much as the next person, and this one was impeccable—crisp white tablecloths, candlelight flickering in crystal holders, and a polite hum of conversation spoken in low tones.

I doubted I could laugh too loudly without earning a judgmental glance—probably from someone who knew my family or me. There had already been several nods and murmured acknowledgments. Josie, of course, fit in effortlessly. Her cream-colored dress was tailored to perfection, her blonde hair swept into a chignon that had likely taken her stylist an hour to create.

She was as fake as the elegance of this place and I could almost hear my father say, “Josie Vance will make an excellent Vanderbilt bride.”

I was regretting this setting more and more as I saw one familiar face after the other. I should’ve thought this through—but honestly, I didn’t need another argument with Josie when we were about to have the mother of all fights when I told her she could keep the ring but notthe man.

“Rhett, Josie! We haven’t seen you since the engagement party,” chirped Clementine Chamberlain, one of Savannah’s many professional gossips. Her husband Robert stood at her side, nodding amiably while his eyes darted toward the bar. He was a known alcoholic.

“Clementine, darlin’, you look lovely.” Josie’s smile was so polished it practically gleamed. “It’s been a whirlwind. Between wedding planning and Rhett’s busy schedule, we haven’t had a moment to breathe.”

“I can imagine.” Clementine shot me a sly smile. “You’re a lucky man, Rhett. Josie’s quite the catch.”

I nodded politely, noncommittally, before glancing at Josie, who now looked irritated. She noticed the lack of enthusiasm in my demeanor, I could tell. She always noticed when I was pulling away, and I knew that she knew that the conversation I wanted to have wasn’t about what fucking flowers I wanted for our wedding. It was probably why she insisted we eat out. Damn the woman! Did she really think she could put this off?

After a few more strained pleasantries with Clementine and Robert, we were finally taken to our table with our drinks.

Once we were seated, Josie took a sip of her wine. I could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers gripped the stem of the glass tightly made me wonder if she knew what was coming.

She talked about this, that, and the other with gusto, aware that people looking at us should always see us as a happy couple, so in love with each other.

No matter what people looking into our relationship saw or thought, she knew that we weren’t in a good place. I barely talked to her. I didn’t fuck her. I all but checked out when she spoke of the wedding.

I wish I’d had the emotional wherewithal not to have proposed to her, regardless of how knocked up she was. I should’ve said we’d co-parent, that I’d be there for her, but I wouldn’t marry her. Sure, that would have pissed our families off, but it wasn’t like I could avoid it now. Actually, I’d made it worse. Breaking up after that farce of an engagement party was going to cause endless chatter.

She kept talking, but I was barely paying attention, trying to figure out how best to tell her in a fuckingpublicsetting that the engagement was over; the wedding was off. And, yeah, I’d cover any costs that came from canceling whatever the hell had already been booked a year in advance.

She set her glass down with deliberate precision. “I thought you wanted to talk, but now getting you to say anything is like pulling teeth.”

I looked down at my bourbon, the amber liquid swirling as I turned the glass in my hand.

Damn it, this wasn’t how I wanted to do it. Not here, not like this. But there was never going to be a good moment for this conversation, was there?

“I’d have preferred to do this in privacy.”

“Do what?” Her lower lip trembled.

“I’ve been thinking a lot aboutus, Josie. I don’t believe we’re suited for one another. You’re lovely, and you’ll make?—”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

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