Page 97 of Never the Best

“Always,” I said, earning an eye roll from Pearl but a wink from Maddie who had anointed me as the Uncle to her Aunt Pearl.

“You look lovely,” Birdie managed to spit out. She was, at least, publicly trying to be kinder to her daughter ever since Betsy Rhodes had told her she had expected better from her.

Caroline, who had not changed despite the backlash from what happened last year, just nodded at us, no polite greeting. At this rate, I suspected that the minute the girls turned eighteen, Cash would file for divorce. Another reason that marriage was a ridiculous institution when it could be so easily dissolved. I wanted to be with Pearl simply because Iwanted her—not because we had kids, not because of a piece of paper or a contract binding us together, but because being with her felt right.

“I hear from the girls that you’re going to talk about yourissuestonight,” Birdie fretted but kept her fake smile in place in case someone was watching.

God damn, Birdie! She just had to fuck with her daughter. Like fucking hell would I let her distract Pearl with her passive-aggressive bullshit.

I draped an arm around Pearl. “I just saw Betsy, I think we should sayhello.”

As I led her away, she said, “You’re subtle as a chainsaw, Rhett Vanderbilt.”

“Birdie was going to piss me off, so I thought I’d just threaten her with Betsy.”

After what happened at this same event last year, people were on their best behavior, and cattiness was now performed subtly. I was sure the women of Savannah would rise to the occasion and find a way to be bitchy without being called on it.

Aunt Hattie was at Betsy’s table, and we greeted them, and then checked in with Emily, the resolute organizer of the charity gala.

I convinced Pearl that we should sit at Betsy’s table as it was closer to the stage. The truth was that I didn’t want her to be anywhere near her mother or sister-in-law. I had hoped they’d behave, but when Birdie threw down the wordissues, I knew I needed to get her the hell out of there.

Gabe and Aurora graciously took our seats at Pearl’sfamily’s table. Alice and Maddie, who were fond of Aurora, would be fine and would understand why I needed to keep their aunt away from their grandmother.

As the program began, I watched Pearl’s fingers curl tightly into a fist. I reached over, opening up her hand and lacing our fingers loosely. “You’ve got this,” I murmured, leaning close so only she could hear.

She turned to me. She was afraid, but she was also resolute. This was courage. It was easy to do things others thought were brave if you had no fear, but to overcome your worst nightmares and succeed, well, that was my Pearl.

When Emily introduced Pearl, a round of applause filled the ballroom as she stood, smoothing her dress over her belly and hips—an act that told me she was worried about how she looked—before walking to the podium. I didn’t miss the way her hand trembled as she adjusted the microphone or the deep breath she took before she began.

“Good evening,” she started, her voice soft but clear. “My name is Pearl Beaumont, and tonight, I want to talk to you about something deeply personal, which has shaped who I am in ways I never expected.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on her.

“When I was a teenager,” she continued, her voice becoming stronger with each word, “I thought that if I just ignored the nasty things people said to me, I’d be fine. What I didn’t realize was that words have a way of sticking, especially when you’re young. Words likefat,ugly, andless-thanseep into your bones until they’re not merely words. They become part of your identity.”

I felt my chest puff with pride as I watched her.

“I developed an eating disorder when I was young.” She smiled, and I knew then she wasn’t nervous anymore. She’d said the words, and now she was free. “I thought if I could control my body, maybe I could change the way people saw me. But the truth was, I couldn’t—not the judgment, not the cruelty, not even the way I saw myself.”

She paused, her eyes scanning the room. “And it almost killed me. I was twenty years old, when my heart stopped because my body couldn’t take the damage I’d done to it anymore. You see, I’d begun to starve myself, living on very little food, because no matter what my scale said, when I looked in the mirror, I saw a fat, ugly, less-than person.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd, but Pearl didn’t flinch.

“I survived.” Her new demeanor was of a woman with authority. Yeah, she was fine now, I thought with satisfaction. “And I got help. But I didn’t do it alone. Recovery isn’t a journey you can take alone—it requires support, understanding, and patience. It takes people who see you as more than just your struggles.”

Her eyes found mine then, and for a moment, it felt like the whole room disappeared.

“I’m standing here today because of the people who believed in me, even when I didn’t trust myself. And tonight, I want to remind all of you how powerful your words are. They can build someone up, or they can tear them down. So, please—choose kindness. Choose compassion. Because you never know what someone is carrying withthem and how your words will either make them feel ten feet tall or so small that they want to disappear.”

She finished her speech by appealing to everyone to give generously to the organizations that help young women deal with mental health issues, which we were supporting this year with the soirée.

The room erupted in applause as Pearl stepped back from the podium, her shoulders sagging slightly with relief.

When she returned to the table, I stood, wrapping her in a hug before she could sit down. “You were incredible,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, and then, because I knew we needed to lighten the mood, added, “I don’t think a speech has ever made me hard before.”

She chuckled and slapped my shoulder. “Everything makes you…like that.”

“Everything aboutyou,” I corrected.

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