Page 85 of Never the Best

On the table, a single tapered candle flickered gently, its soft glow just starting to compete with the golden light of the evening sun filtering through the sprawling tree branches.

The air carried the faint aroma of basil, garlic, and tomatoes, courtesy of the carefully packed picnic basket resting on the grass near the table. Inside were Italian dishes: fresh bruschetta, creamy burrata with crusty bread, spaghetti tossed in a light Pomodoro sauce, and, of course, a bottle of my favorite Chianti.

Lanterns hung from the low branches of the tree, their warm light not yet necessary, but still adding a whimsical touch to the scene. A soft blanket was spread nearby, just in case we wanted to lounge after dinner. Hidden inside the basket, a Bluetooth speaker played classic Italian music—Dean Martin crooning about how the moonhits your eye like a big pizza pie.

I glanced at Pearl, who stood with her mouth slightly open. Her gaze flicked from the table to the lanterns to the flowers and finally back to me.

“You did this?” she asked, disbelief and wonder in her voice.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Well, I had a little help,” I admitted, gesturing toward the setup. “But yeah. This is for you…us.”

Her lips parted, and then she laughed warmly, excitedly. “Rhett, this is perfect.”

“That was the goal.” I stepped closer and pulled out one of the chairs for her.

She took a seat with a flourish. She was smiling. And that made every detail worth it.

“It’s just us here.” I began to uncork the bottle of wine. “No crowd, no pressure. No menus to order from. Just a quiet dinner under the stars. And you can eat what you want, how you want, and how much you want.”

She turned to look at me. “You did this for me?” she repeated as if she still couldn’t believe it.

“Of course, I did. I want you to feel comfortable tonight. And I know restaurants can be…complicated for you.”

She blinked, and I saw gratitude and bone-deep relief inher eyes.

I brought out the bruschetta and burrata, and arranged it the best I could because I was no chef, just a basic cook who could feed myself. I had considered having a server, but that would have taken the intimacy of the moment away. We were in a secluded area of the park, and the event planner had assured me that we’d be left alone. How she achieved that, I had no idea, but I did plan to send her a considerable tip as a thank you.

We talked as we ate, the conversation light at first, about work and books. I made a point not to bring up anything too serious unless she did. I didn’t want her to feel like tonight was about her past or her struggles. It was about her,period.

By the time we dug into the pasta, I was happy to note that she’d eaten one whole bruschetta, three bites of burratawith three slices of tomatoes, and now had already taken several forkfuls of pasta and four small sips of wine.

Eventually, I’d have to stop counting how much she ate, but until she was stable, I’d keep track. I didn’t comment on it or make a big deal about it. I just kept talking, keeping the conversation flowing.

Dr. Ryan had told me that it wasn’t like her eating disorder would show up at every meal. Most of the time, if she weren’t in crisis, she’d eat like an average person. But no matter how she ate, it was important not to make the food the focal point, so I didn’t. Instead, I entertained her with stories.

“She didn’t!” Pearl’s eyes sparkled when I told her how Aunt Hattie once tried to bribe a zoning officer with homemade bourbon balls.

“You know she did.” I set my fork down. “And she was successful in getting her way.”

Pearl laughedagain, the sound warm and unguarded. I felt like a fucking god for making her happy.

For dessert, I asked the hotel to pack small, petite fruit tarts and tiny chocolate truffles, which wouldn’t feel overwhelming to Pearl.

I reached for one of the tarts and held it up. “To new beginnings.”

She hesitated for a moment before picking up a truffle and gently touching it to mine in a toast. “To new beginnings,” she echoed.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the golden light of the setting sun fading into twilight.

“Rhett,” she said suddenly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked at her, the seriousness in her eyes catching me off guard. “Yeah, baby?”

“I just….” She hesitated, biting her lower lip before continuing. “I want you to know how much this means to me. Not just tonight but…everything. You’ve been there for me in ways I didn’t think anyone ever would. And it’s not just about what you’ve done—it’showyou’ve done it. You’ve made me feel like…I’m not broken. Like I’m enough.”

Her words meant so much to me that, for a moment, I couldn’t speak.

“You are more than enough,” I finally managed to say. “You’ve always been, Pearl. I saw it back then, even if I didn’t acknowledge it. But now, I see it, and I celebrate it. I seeyou.”

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