Page 47 of Never the Best

Christ!The dramatics had already begun.

“I’m happy to do so,” I drawled, “but it’s not going to change the facts.”

“Which are?” she demanded angrily, and then, just like that, she smiled because our server had come to the table.

Yeah, she was as genuine as a three-dollar bill at a church bake sale.

“Darlin’, why don’t you order first? I’m still making up my mind.” She even fluttered her eyelashes.

The poor server was speechless. Josie was beautiful. If only he could see what was inside.

I ordered the pepper-crusted beef tenderloin with buttermilk mashed potatoes, asparagus, and Madeira cream sauce.

I told the waiterno, I wouldn’t be ordering an appetizer. I didn’t think I could stand eating a three-course meal with Josie.

Josie wasn’t in on my dinner and dash plan, so after much dawdling, she ended up ordering the sea scallops without the lemon butter. However,she obviously wanted a side salad.

“It’s too greasy with the butter, and I need to, you know, lose some weight before the wedding.” Josie handed her menu to the server, who flushed.

“Isn’t the whole point of scallops the brown butter?” I couldn’t resist throwing at Josie.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. The server was gone; therealJosiewas back.

“And you should eat the butter if you want to, Josie, because there isn’t going to be a wedding,” I added.

Her face tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“Jesus, Josie, exactly what I said. I don’t want to marry you.” Okay, so I didn’t want to say it like this, but she was shredding my patience.

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then she leaned forward, her voice low and laced with disbelief. “Rhett, we’ve been engaged for six months. We’re getting married in a year. The venue has been booked. I’m getting ready to buy my dress. Now is not the time to get cold feet.”

I shook my head. This woman was unbelievable. “Josie, I don’t have cold feet. I’m ending our engagement and calling off the wedding. I’m telling you I don’t want to marry you.”

Was that fuckin’ explicit enough for her?

“Please.” She picked up her glass of wine and sipped. “Your mother warned me that you’d want to pull a rabbit.”

I almost laughed at that. Did Josie really think insulting me was going to help her case?

“Darlin’, I ain’t rabbiting on you; I’m telling you that we’re not getting married.”

I had wanted to be subtle and careful, but the hell with it. If she couldn’t treat me with respect, I wasn’t going to afford her the same courtesy. Just because I was polite didn’t mean I didn’t have an asshole streak. She, of all people, should know that.

“How do you think your father is going to feel about this?” she sneered.

“My father isn’t marrying you, Josie.”

The server returned with bread for our table, and Josie all but snarled at him, “I just told you I’m getting married, so please take that away.”

“Please forgive my companion; she hasn’t eaten much all day, so she’s hangry.” I smiled at the server. “And do leave the bread. I love your focaccia.”

The server, not sure what was up, left the breadbasket, and all but ran from our table.

I picked up a slice of warm, freshly baked roll and cut it open. I spread butter over it while Josie seethed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Eating carbs.” I bit into the bread with relish.

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