Chapter 29: Never The Best: Chapter 29

Just because we were all but living together and sleeping together didn’t mean that we were actually together.

“That makes no sense,” Royal said when I met him and Noah Carter for a drink at the Collins Quarter.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “We’re together, but I feel as if we skipped a step somewhere.”

“Like the dating part?” Noah mused, raising an eyebrow.

“We all but live together. Isn’t it weird to be dating now?”

“Nope.” Noah shook his head. “Dating is the fun part of the relationship. That’s the spark. The part where you learn about each other. You have to court her like she deserves.”

I frowned, my fingers tapping against the side of my glass. “It’s not that we don’t talk or spend time together—we do.”

“But is it special?” Noah speculated.

“And what does that mean?”

Royal smirked. “What Noah is saying is that you need to romance Pearl. Show her that you’re not just roommates with benefits.”

I shot him a look. “We’re not⁠—”

“You know what I mean,” Royal interrupted, holding up his hand. “She deserves to feel like she’s the most important person in your life. Like you’re choosing her every day, not just because you happen to live in the same cottage and sleep on the same bed.”

Noah nodded thoughtfully as he set his beer on the table between us. “Stella and I were engaged and living together. She was still pissed as hell with me…lots of good reasons for that—and another story when we all have more time, and I’ve had way too much alcohol.”

“I agree.” Royal winced. “I don’t need to re-live that shitshow.”

I surmised this had to do with the scandal about a sex tape of Noah and Stella from when they were dating. I didn’t have the details—I doubt many did because Noah had managed to put a lid on it effectively.

“Anyway, I took her out on a date. Not just dinner and a movie or the usual bullshit—it was thoughtful, it felt like us.”

Royal grinned. “Think romantic and over the top.”

“What did you do?” I asked, now curious. Noah didn’t look like the kind of guy who was sensitive and romantic.

“I booked the botanical gardens for a picnic,” Noah said, surprising me.

“The whole garden?” I gaped.

Noah shrugged. “I mean, I have the resources, and she’s a landscaper, and…anyway, I put together a basket of food and wine she loves, even got one of those cheesy red and white picnic blankets. We sat under a magnolia tree.” Noah smiled as if the memory was still sweet. “It was a damn good evening. It wasn’t fancy, but it was intentional.”

I mulled over that, imagining Pearl and me at a place like that. Quiet. Intimate. A chance to remind her what we were building together in case she was thinking of getting rid of me. I knew she’d prefer not to go to a restaurant and worry about ordering or freaking out when she couldn’t eat.

“It’s actually a good idea. Though I may not have the kind of resources you do to book the entire botanical garden,” I teased. I didn’t have the influence or money Noah Carter did. “But I think Forsyth Park could do very well for a date.”

“Absolutely,” Noah said firmly. “If you need help, there’s an event planner at the Rhodes Hotel who helped me out, and I’m sure she can do the same for you. I’ll send you her details.”

“Thanks,” I murmured gratefully.

Royal raised his glass. “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Vanderbilt.”

“Just don’t overthink it,” Noah suggested. “Women don’t need grand gestures every time—sometimes, it’s the simple, thoughtful stuff that means the most.”

“You two fuckers are settled and happy,” I muttered. “So, I guess I have to accept that you are more learned about this shit than me?”

“Learned about a lot more shit than you,” Royal corrected me dryly.

“Yes,” Noah agreed, “we are superior to you.”

“You’re both assholes,” I remarked, amused.

“But superior ones,” Royal interjected. “Now, go forth and prosper with your fair maiden, young Padawan.”

“Don’t forget the blanket,” Noah warned.

“Noted.”

I did exactly as they suggested.

First, I asked Pearl to go on a date with me. Her smile was a thousand-watt one, and it made me realize that those bastards were right; she wanted—maybe even needed—to be wooed, courted, and made to feel special.

Then, I called Noah’s contact at the Rhodes Hotel.

A week later, when I waited for her on the porch to take her on our first date ever, I felt nerves attacking me. I’d faced boardrooms filled with billionaires, I’d ended an engagement in front of Savannah society, and yet courting Pearl without fucking it up, as I seemed to have done way too many times in the past, was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done.

Pearl twirled once she was on the porch. “I’m ready.”

She wore a green summer dress embroidered with white flowers.

She looked beautiful—not in the glammed-up, polished way Savannah women like Josie aimed for, but in the quiet, effortless way that was uniquely Pearl. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She didn’t need makeup or accessories. She didn’t need anything.

Why on Earth had Birdie or anyone else made Pearl feel less, even in the looks department? Pearl was…well, pure in her beauty, almost artless. I found her exquisite.

But then, as Michael Bolton said, “When a man loves a woman….”

“You look fabulous.”

I kissed her gently on the lips, then brought my hand from behind my back, revealing a small bouquet of wildflowers I’d picked up earlier. They weren’t extravagant—just soft yellows and whites, simple and unpretentious, like her. I knew she’d appreciate these far more than any elaborate arrangement from a florist. They were natural, unassuming, and real—just like the connection we were building.

“These are beautiful.” She took the flowers and held them close to her chest, a look of wonder in her eyes. Had no one gotten my lovely Pearl flowers before? Fuck me! Noah and Royal deserved bottles of good scotch as thank-you gifts.

“I picked the flowers,” I told her.

Her eyes widened in awe. “For me?”

Her vulnerability pierced my heart. “Anything for you.”

“I should take them in⁠—”

“No, bring them along,” I suggested, draped an arm around her, and led her away from the cottage door toward my car.

“So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. A good one,” I promised.

“I trust you,” she whispered and gave me her heart, which I knew I’d treasure with my life because this was a second chance I didn’t deserve, didn’t expect—but was damn grateful for.

I almost asked her to blindfold herself as we drove but decided that was a little too over the top, and Pearl was recovering from a nervous breakdown, so I had to step carefully and not trigger her in any way.

I didn’t book the botanical gardens, but I did work with the Rhodes Hotel event planner.

So, when we arrived at Forsythe Park around six in the evening, the sun still not ready to set as it was another long summer day, we were greeted by a small table set up under one of the massive live oaks. The hotel had put together a fresh meal—nothing fussy, just a few of Pearl’s favorites, so I knew she’d be tempted to eat, even if it was only a little.

She stopped short, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. As Noah had instructed me, the table was covered with a red and white checkered tablecloth. Since I knew that Pearl liked Italian food best, this fit the mood, and when I suggested it to the event planner, she was delighted.

A pair of wrought-iron chairs, with their delicate scrollwork lending a touch of charm that felt plucked straight from a quiet Italian piazza, completed the bistro set. On the center of the table sat a simple water-filled glass jar. I took the flowers Pearl was still holding and slipped them into it, creating an arrangement that was effortlessly simple, perfectly in tune with the easy, unassuming mood of the evening I wanted to share with her.

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 moon hits 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 in her 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 burrata with 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 laughed again, 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’s how you’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 see you.”

She looked at me for a long moment, and then she smiled—a real, genuine smile that made my chest ache in the best possible way. Then she gave me more when she whispered, “Rhett, I love you.”

“I’m the luckiest man alive,” I whispered, humbled by her courage, by her ability to forgive me and love me.

We found our way to the blanket, and I turned on the mosquito repellant, which Pearl said showed I was smarter than I looked.

We lay, looking up at the sky, holding hands. The world was quiet around us, and I felt like we were exactly where we were meant to be—together and at peace.

When we went home, we made love, and it was like it was the first time for us together. It wasn’t that we wanted to pretend the past didn’t happen—but it was necessary to know that the past didn’t affect us, and this was a new beginning for both of us. We weren’t teenagers any longer. We were new people, better people.

She was already in bed when I got in, slid behind her, and spooned her. We’d become comfortable sleeping together, and I instinctively knew having sex, for us, would be organic.

I turned her onto her back and covered her body with mine. Letting her feel me through my shorts.

She cupped my cheek.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied confidently.

“Any time you feel⁠—”

“I won’t. I want you.”

“Thank fuckin’ God, Pearl, because I’m starved for you.”

I kissed her, soft and slow, but it turned demanding because we both needed it, desperately.

“Pearl, darlin’, I need you naked.”

I saw a flicker of worry, and then she nodded as if making a decision. In a way, she was. The last time she’d been naked with me had changed both our lives.

I removed her tank top reverently. Her heart beat fast. Her breathing was choppy. She was aroused; I could see that, but she was also nervous.

I stroked her breasts. “They’re beautiful.”

Her tits were full, smaller than they had been, but then she’d lost so much weight. She was thinner. There were stretch marks over her stomach and hips. Beautiful silver lines that told the story of her courage, how she’d overcome hell.

I suckled a nipple, and she almost came off the bed. She stroked my back, and I felt the acceptance in her touch. She was letting me in. She trusted me. This was momentous for both of us. I never thought I’d be here, in this place with her, ever again, and that the universe had given me this chance filled me with gratitude. Pearl was my gift, my reward for working to become a better version of myself.

I slid down her body, and she stiffened slightly when I got between her legs. I looked up at her, gauging, waiting to see how she felt. She took a deep, shuddering breath and then smiled at me.

I would continue to seek consent at every step of making love with her—until there would come a day when she would give in because it was natural, and all her fears would be vanquished. I knew that day would come. It could take time, certainly, but I knew we’d get there because Pearl was the strongest person I knew.

I licked her and groaned at her taste. Perfect. My Pearl was perfect.

She writhed as I suckled her clit, and stroked her G-spot until she was screaming her release. I looked up at her, feeling like a triumphant warrior, and she was the rich spoils of my victory.

I shucked my shorts and looked at her, waiting for her to tell me it was okay for me to come inside of her.

“I have an IUD.”

I nodded, feeling emotion swarm through me and fill me up. Forgiveness never tasted this good, this sweet, this humbling.

“Do you know you’re the most beautiful woman I know?”

She giggled then. It was a full, rich, incredible sound coming from my Pearl, the one who’d had such sadness in her life.

I flipped us, so she was on top of me. She gave me an enquiring look.

“Ride me,” I murmured, giving up all control, asking her to decide how, how much, and when.

She looked down at my cock, precum leaking out of it, and then at me. Slowly, her face lit up with wonder, and I knew this was how we’d make love for the first time this time around, with her taking charge.

She sank down on me, and we both felt it…felt the homecoming.

“Rhett,” she panted.

“Yes.” I couldn’t look away from her. She was everything to me.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” she said cheekily, telling me she was alright, this was what she wanted, this was how it would be—that we’d moved past the past and into the present with a future that was going to shine bright.

I let her set the pace. She was excruciatingly slow, but there was no rush. I wanted to feel and savor—take our time to explore one another, look into each other’s souls, and claim each other.

Pearl leaned back, placed her hands on my upper thighs for balance, and began to rock. She looked powerful as she took me, and I couldn’t do anything but watch her as she accepted her sexuality, her freedom, and me.

She became more vocal when I started playing with her clit, wanting to push her over, see her face when it happened. Her moans were cries now as she began milking me. She slumped on to me, tired, and I held her hips as I slammed up into her, letting go of myself.

“You’re everything,” I whispered as I poured into her.