Chapter 28: Never The Best: Chapter 28

I was worried about what people would think and say.

I was sure by now everyone at work knew that Pearl Beaumont had lost her shit and had to go on medical leave. It was embarrassing, even though Rhett told me that I should be proud of how I took the time to take care of myself—and wished more people did the same.

Easy enough for him to say since he wasn’t the one staring at a simple piece of toast, wondering how to put it in my mouth and then chew.

So, it was no wonder that I walked through the glass doors of Savannah Lace with trepidation.

As soon as I stepped in, Rachel, Nina’s efficient EA who managed the front desk, greeted me with a warm, “Welcome back,” before seamlessly picking up the ringing phone and answering with her usual curt but cheerful, “Savannah Lace, how may I help you?” It hit me then—everything here was the same. Nothing had changed.

But I had.

Even after everything, I realized I was almost back to where I had been mentally before the ‘incident,’ as I’d started to call it. Nervous breakdown sounded far too severe, even though my therapist assured me that’s exactly what it was.

Coming back to Savannah, seeing Rhett again, and dealing with my family—it had all swirled together into a tight, overwhelming stress ball inside me. And when Josie did what she did, it was like the last thread snapped, and I imploded.

As I walked to my office, the buzz of keyboards, the quiet hum of voices in hushed conversations, and the occasional ring of a phone were familiar, and normalized my presence among them. The walls were adorned with the same framed photographs of iconic Savannah Lace designs, their elegant patterns a testament to the company’s history. Even the faint scent of coffee and delicious food that Mira Bodine created in the cafeteria made me feel like I was home, even if the thought of food and drink made me just a tad queasy.

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter, my heels clicking against the polished floor as I made my way to my desk. My pulse quickened with every step, the knot in my stomach twisting tighter. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was watching me, even though most of my coworkers seemed to be too busy with their screens or conversations to notice me at all.

They know, the voice in my head whispered. They all know.

For years, I’d worked so hard to keep the most vulnerable parts of myself hidden. But now, my struggles weren’t private anymore. The walls I’d built had come crashing down, and now everyone in this building had a front-row seat to my shame. Hell, Luna and Aurora had to hold me while I laid in a fetal position next to a freaking smelly dumpster in an alley behind The Peacock Lounge.

I forced myself to keep walking, trying to ignore the heat rising to my face.

Just keep moving, Pearl. Don’t stop. Don’t give them a reason to stare. That used to be my mantra when I was growing up in Savannah. That was how I used to ignore the fat, nerd, dull, and after Rhett, slut comments.

When I reached my desk, I sat down quickly, setting my bag on the floor, and pulling my laptop open as if burying myself in work might make me invisible. I braced myself for the whispers, the glances, the awkward condolences.

But they didn’t come.

“Morning, Pearl!” Stephanie, a colleague, called cheerfully as she passed by, balancing a stack of mail in her arms. “Welcome back.”

“Morning,” I replied warily. “And thank you.”

A few minutes later, Alex from payroll stopped by to drop some documents on my desk.

“Thank God, you’re back. Can you take a look at these and make sure they’re ready for Layla’s John Hancock?”

This was standard operating procedure for Alex when it came to contracts. He wanted me to go through them because I was known to be detail-oriented. He didn’t linger, didn’t give me a pitying look, didn’t ask how I was doing. Instead, he added, “And I’ll owe you one more drink.”

I arched an eyebrow, falling into my usual pattern with Alex.

He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and looked sheepish. “At this point, I think I owe you a couple of bottles of…drinks.”

I grinned. “As long as someone is keeping tabs.”

Alex chuckled and was on his way.

As the hours ticked by, I noticed that no one was treating me any differently. When I walked by, there were no sidelong glances, no hushed tones, and no awkward pauses in conversation.

It was like…nothing had happened.

I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a little. Maybe I’d underestimated these people. Or perhaps they were doing what good coworkers do—giving me space to be me. Either way, I appreciated it.

I got a text message from Rhett around noon.

Rhett: Did you have lunch?

Me: I had an apple.

Okay, so it was a couple of slices, but it was an apple.

Rhett: Are you hydrating?

I scowled because I felt like an errant child, but it was lovely to be taken care of, and for someone to ask if I was okay. I took a photo of the half-empty bottle of water next to my keyboard and sent it to him.

Rhett: Good work! How’s your day been so far?

Me: Eh. Nothing special.

Rhett: My father came by—I think I may have wrecked that relationship irredeemably.

I called him then. He answered on the first ring.

“What happened?”

“The usual, only this time I told him that I didn’t give a damn,” he replied, amused. “You worried about me, baby?”

“Yes.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“What?”

“If you could close your door, and maybe we can have some phone sex?”

I giggled. “My office has glass walls. You’ll just have to wait to get me off in person.”

“My favorite thing to do,” he drawled huskily.

By the time I hung up, joy swirled inside of me. I had a boyfriend—an honest-to-God, delicious, wonderful, and caring boyfriend. I still couldn’t believe it, but I was immensely grateful.

It was almost the end of the day, and Rhett was going to pick me up in a bit, when a message popped up in my inbox from Nina Davenport.

Come by my office when you have a minute. – Nina

I ruminated over my first day back at work as I walked to Nina’s office. It had been good. I’d had just enough work to keep me busy but not overwhelm me. Colleagues said hello and checked in on me without making it awkward. My boss told me that if I needed more time, I should take it, and then moved on to talking about work.

Apparently, people finding out I have an eating disorder had not turned me into someone to pity—no one was looking at me differently now that they knew.

Diego Perez was coming out of Nina’s office as I got there.

“Hey, Pearl, how’s it goin’?” he asked casually.

“Good, and you?”

Diego grinned and winked at me. “Fabulous.”

As he walked away, I wondered if I’d seen a lipstick mark on his cheek. When I stepped into Nina’s office after she asked me to come in, I saw her redo her lipstick—the same pink color as was on Diego’s face.

Well, well, there’s an office romance blooming. That thought, for some reason, delighted me.

Nina had her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she studied her face on her iPhone camera to check her lipstick. She set it down when she saw me, her face breaking into a warm smile.

She came from around the desk and hugged me. “So good to have you back, Pearl.”

Nina had always disarmed me. She was one of the toughest and most demanding professionals I knew, and yet she was ready with a hug, a tissue, or a joke when it was needed.

And she had game since she’d snagged the sexiest man in the building, I thought with a giggle.

I couldn’t wait to tell Rhett about having caught Nina Davenport making out with Diego Perez in her office. He was the only one I could tell because there was no way I was going to spread gossip in the office.

Nina led me to a chair and then took her seat across from me.

“How are you?” she asked, resting her elbows on her desk.

“I’m good.” I was genuinely smiling when I spoke. “I was nervous, but…it’s been a really good first day back.” I felt like I was gushing; I think I was. I’d just not expected it to be this easy.

“Now, don’t think of me as your boss’s boss but as Hattie’s friend when I ask you, have you eaten today?”

That took me aback. She was the first person to bring up my situation with food.

“A little.” And then added hurriedly, “I can’t eat right now; I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” She picked up her landline and spoke into it, “Rachel, darlin’, can you bring some tea to my office? Mint for both of us. Yes, thank you.”

Nina Davenport was a woman of many skills, including somehow knowing that Rhett had been feeding me mint tea when I refused to eat anything. He sweetened it a little to get some calories into me. The mint helped with nausea and made me feel refreshed.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Nina waved a hand. “Of course, I checked up on how to take care of you. It takes a village, you know?”

Before I could respond, Nina’s door opened after a brief knock, and Rachel brought in a tray with tea. She set the teapot and two cups on Nina’s table, and left the empty tray on one of the side tables. She’d even put a couple of chocolate chip cookies on a small plate, but I wasn’t going there.

Nina leaned back and studied me. “I know you think you’re the only one with a big secret and problem, but the thing is, we’re all working on ourselves. Let me tell you what I’ve learned over the years: most of the time, the things we think people are focusing on about us are the ones they barely notice. People are so wrapped up in their own lives and their own problems that they rarely have time to dwell on someone else’s. It feels huge to you because it is—but to them, it’s just another piece of a much larger picture.”

“I’ve always hated being pitied,” I told her.

“Maybe because Birdie made it an art form with you,” Nina offered sardonically.

I chuckled. This was why Savannah was a great place to live and also a pain in the ass. Everyone knew everyone and everyone’s business. “I hate that people know, especially since I’ve spent so long trying to hide it.”

Once the tea was ready, I served both Nina and me.

I took a tentative sip and was pleased when nothing seemed to offend my system. Nina picked up her teacup and took a sip. “I can assure you that every single woman in this building—hell, every woman you’ll ever meet—has parts of her body or psyche she’s tried to or is actively trying to hide. Some part of herself she’s been told isn’t good enough, or worthy enough, or acceptable.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “Do you think I wallow too much and⁠—”

“Pearl, I’m not saying this to minimize your problems,” Nina said firmly, setting her delicate ceramic teacup down on her desk with precision. Her tone was warm but laced with that no-nonsense edge she was known for. “What I’m saying is that your struggles are yours. The last thing you need to burden yourself with is worrying about what other people think.”

“What do people think?” I asked, desperate to know, to be validated, to be told I wasn’t a terrible person, a weak woman.

“I can’t speak about people in general, but I think that you are a strong woman, who has overcome some really horrendous shit thrown her way during her formative years. That’s not an easy task. I also think you’re a good and kind person, who helps people and is there for people. You have solid integrity and high moral standards for yourself.” She grinned then. “And now, to the part you need to work on, because I also think you worry too much about the world’s opinion of you.”

“I am working on it,” I remarked. “My therapist told me, the last time we spoke, that sometimes the line between a nervous breakdown and a breakthrough is thin.”

“And?” she coaxed.

“I think I had a breakdown but….” I paused, suddenly reticent to share matters so personal, but the look she gave me was so warm and kind that I proceeded. “I also had a breakthrough, thanks to the support I got from Rhett, Aunt Hattie, and Missy. And all of you, who told me to take time off. I didn’t have to worry about losing my job because I wasn’t well. It made me feel like I had the time and space to get better and learn more about myself.”

Nina traced the top of her cup with a finger and then looked at me. “In my teenage years, I struggled with my body image, too. My mother was supermodel thin, while I had my father’s Italian genes, with big hips, and tits that were already garnering unwanted attention when I was barely fourteen.”

You could knock me down with a feather! The super-confident Nina Davenport struggled with how she looked? But why? She was gorgeous and effortlessly elegant.

“I wanted to be like Mama,” she continued. “I was so consumed with the idea of perfection that I couldn’t see what I already had—strength, intelligence, ambition. It took me a long time to realize that the only person I had to be enough for was me. And even now, there are days when I have to remind myself of that.”

“How did you realize that?”

Now, she smiled widely. “I had a wonderful friend, Monica Ryan. She’s a therapist now, but even then, when we were teenagers, she had a skill. She and Hattie and some others were there for and with me. Monica’s mother was a psychologist as well, so she talked to me, not officially, because, mind you, in those days, if anyone found out I was seeing a therapist, it would’ve been a scandal. Long story short, I got a lot of help, and by the time I was out of my teens, those feelings became rare. I’m aware that I was lucky.”

“Getting help at the right time is pivotal,” I agreed. “I took too long for me to get help, and by then, a lot of the damage was already done.”

“Isn’t it wonderful that we can keep growing and developing and becoming better versions of ourselves despite being late in addressing our issues? That we can make mistakes and continue to have fulfilling lives?”

“Yes,” I admitted with my whole heart. “It is wonderful.”