Page 49 of Never the Best

I sighed. “Josie, there is no child.”And I’m so fucking glad because you, as a mother, would ruin any kid.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. I mean…did something happen in California?”

“What do you think would happen?” I challenged.

Her eyes went from sad to horrified to malicious. “Oh my God! This is about Pearl, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded, now nearly entirely out of patience. “This is aboutus. About the fact that I don’t think I’m the man you need, and you’re not the kind of woman I want. We can’t give each other the lives we want.”

“That’s bullshit,” she snapped, her voice rising enough to earn a few curious glances from nearby tables.

“Keep your voice down,” I muttered.

She leaned in closer, her eyes blazing. “You’re scared. That’s all this is. You’re scared of settling down. But I love you, Rhett. I’ve loved you since the day we met. And I know you love me, too.”

I didn’t say anything because we were going in circles. There was no point. I would talk to her parents—I’d have to—and mine, and close this down.

Her voice trembled with desperation. “Please, Rhett. Don’t do this. Don’t throw away everything we’ve built. We’re good together. We’re perfect for each other.”

This woman was remarkably clueless, but I wasn’t any better. I had actually thought I could marry her, build a life with her, and have children with her, which would’ve been the ultimate travesty.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could feel the way you do, but I don’t. You should marry someone who loves you as much as you love them, Josie.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously, refusing to let them fall. “I can’t believe you’re doing this at a restaurant, of all places.”

“For Christ’s sake, Josie,youinsisted we come here.”

“I didn’t know you were going to do this.”

I sighed. There was no point repeating that I wanted to have a private conversation. I had told her, but she’d….

“We can fix this,” she pleaded.

I wanted to tell her that there was nothing to fix.Thatwas the problem. This wasn’t a fight or a misunderstanding.It was a truth I’d been running from for months, and now that I’d finally spoken it, I couldn’t take it back. Hell, I didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “But I can’t do this.”

“We’ll see,” she threw back at me, and pierced a butter-less scallop and chewed on it.

CHAPTER 18

Pearl

Aunt Hattie and I were sitting in her garden room, which was blissfully air-conditioned. It washotin Savannah. Summer was here with a vengeance, and anyone who ever thought that climate change was a myth could rethink that notion because we were having record-high temperatures.

Missy, Aunt Hattie’s housekeeper and majordomo, set out iced tea for us and joined us. Missy had been with Aunt Hattie for nearly two decades. She was younger than her employer by a decade or so, but no one was really sure. There were rumors that Missy and Aunt Hattie were lovers, but I hadn’t seen any indication of that, but if they were, more power to them.

Missy was African American and carried herself with immense grace. Her presence commanded respect, whether she was managing Hattie’s household or calmly stepping into one of Savannah’s more contentious charity meetings torestore order. She always dressed impeccably in crisp linen blouses and tailored skirts; her hair swept back into a low bun that gave her an air of effortless elegance.

Aunt Hattie shuffled through a folder filled with papers. “Pearl, darlin’, I know you hate this stuff, but we need to talk about the gala,” she said, her Southern accent curling around the words like ribbons of honey.

I groaned.

“None of that, young lady. It’s going to be the event of the season, and I’m counting on you to charm some of those deep pockets into opening up their wallets.”

I shook my head, amused. “You know I’m better with numbers than people, Aunt Hattie.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart,” she admonished. “You’ve got that Beaumont charm—when you choose to use it, that is.”

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