6. Pearl
CHAPTER 6
Pearl
" W asn't Josie engaged to Dylan Whatsisname?" Rose Dixon, one of Aunt Hattie's friends and, in fact, Gabe Rhodes' cousin, mused as she sipped champagne.
Rose was a few years older than me, so I didn’t know her well. But since moving to Savannah, I’d seen more of her. She was close to Aurora, who wasn’t at Rhett and Josie’s engagement party. Aurora and her husband, Gabe, were in New York, along with their family, celebrating Gabe’s daughter Sophie’s birthday, combining it with college tours to make the trip extra special.
"Dylan Rafferty," Aunt Hattie provided with a smirk. "He was smart, cheated on her, made sure she dumped him, and then left for Europe, where I hear he's living a charmed life in southern France with a French girl he married."
I arched a brow and offered a sly smile. “ Comme c’est charmant .” I swirled the champagne in my glass. How nice for him!
Hattie tilted her head and replied, “ Mais bien s?r ,” before taking another delicate sip of her champagne. But of course.
"So, Dylan dodged a bullet, which I see Rhett walked right in front of?" Rose murmured.
I doubted that. They seemed perfect for each other. Narcissist weds asshole—a marriage made in Savannah society heaven.
"Oh, she made sure of that. She got knocked up," Hattie remarked.
I sighed. "Aunt Hattie, stop saying stuff like that and starting unfounded rumors."
"Hush, Pearl, this is good gossip,” Rosie admonished. “I have not heard about this. Hit me, Hattie."
"Christ," I groaned. "Why is it that everyone in Savannah gossips so ferociously?"
"Darlin', it's like breathin' for us." Rose fluttered her eyelashes dramatically.
"No shit," I retorted dryly.
Aunt Hattie smacked my arm playfully. "Now, Pearl, be a good girl and take the gossip with grace."
I gave out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Go on, Queen Gossip."
"Well, after her engagement ended, she began hanging out with Rhett for emotional support. They got drunk one night and had sex. Then, they dated for a few weeks. When Rhett was all but ready to dump her bony, shapeless ass, she told him she was knocked up; bless her heart ."
"That timing is suspect," Rose concurred. "But Rhett's a big boy. Wasn't he suited up?"
"She brought the suit," Aunt Hattie said with satisfaction.
"How do you know?" I demanded wryly.
"My nephew talks to me." Aunt Hattie grinned.
"You think she sabotaged the rubbers?" Rose was loving every second of this conversation. She had her own real estate business and obviously didn’t like women like Josie.
From what I could see, there was a stark divide between the women who worked and those who were only interested in getting married in Savannah—either side couldn't stand the other. I saw nothing wrong with a woman who wanted to make an advantageous marriage (like this was a scene from Pride and Prejudice), but I didn’t want to be mocked for my choices, either. So, I stayed out of that discussion, if I could help it.
"Actually, I don't know, and neither does Rhett, but then she had a miscarriage right after all the announcements were made,” Aunt Hattie explained.
"The poor thing," I exclaimed.
" Please ," Aunt Hattie muttered, "if she was even pregnant, I'd eat my favorite fascinator."
"She wouldn't lie about that!" I protested.
I had grown up with Josie, so I knew she could be a malicious bitch—but to lie about a baby? No . I didn’t believe that at all .
"Oh, I could absolutely see her doing that. I mean, think about it,” Rose considered. “Women like her are waiting to get married, and she wasted five years of her life with Dylan. Now, she's past her prime?—"
"She's my age," I protested.
"Past her prime by Savannah standards," Rose expounded. "I know because I'm almost a dried-up old hag at thirty-four. I love my life and am not interested in getting married."
"That's because you have that friends-with-benefits relationship with…what's his name? That hunky blonde who works for Gabe?" Aunt Hattie queried.
The music changed from classical to jazz. That would be for Rhett, I thought. He was a jazz lover, had been when….
Stop thinking about the past, Pearl! That way lies pain.
"Devon." Rose dropped her empty glass of champagne on the tray of a passing server and picked up a fresh one. She lowered her voice. "So, Hattie, how do you know she lied about the baby?"
I was still nursing my first and only glass. I hated being here, seeing Rhett celebrating getting married, and there was no way I could force food down my throat.
Aunt Hattie gave her a sly look and said in a bad German Gestapo accent, “We have our ways.”
“Come on, spill, woman!” Rose demanded good naturedly.
Aunt Hattie only laughed.
I loved Aunt Hattie. She was the embodiment of Southern grace, with her silver-streaked chestnut hair swept into an elegant chignon, and a timeless beauty that had only deepened with age. She was a tall woman who carried herself with the kind of regal poise that turned heads in every room. Her sharp, intelligent eyes missed nothing, and the faintest trace of a knowing smile often played at the corners of her perfectly painted lips.
She knew how to play the game in society, which is why she knew most of what was going on. I didn’t aspire to be her, but I was glad I was not on her bad side.
"Does the family know?" I asked.
"Even if they did, they wouldn't believe it. Saint Josie can do no wrong."
"Does Rhett know?" Rose mused.
"He doesn't want to believe it." Aunt Hattie sounded sad. "He's so busy being a Vanderbilt and being controlled by that asshole father of his that he doesn't know how to live his life for himself. I hate that the boy cannot see himself."
"Parents have a strong hold on us," Rose muttered. "I spent a lifetime tryin' to please my mama, and you know she ain't never gonna be happy with me until I'm married and pregnant."
"But you're not going to let them force you into a marriage," Aunt Hattie pointed out.
The music soared and then started to drop off. I thought it was going to be time for announcements and speeches. We'd hear from the happy couple's parents and then the couple themselves, who'd share stories about how they met and how much they loved each other.
Shoot me the fuck now !
"I came close a few years ago…very close." Rose took a deep breath.
"What happened?" I asked.
" Thankfully , he dumped me."
"He didn't dump her; she made him," Aunt Hattie explained to me with a twinkle in her eyes.
"How did you do that?" I was curious as hell.
"I made sure he saw Devon fucking my brains out," Rose said happily.
"I want to be just like you when I grow up," I blurted out.
We laughed, and eyes turned to look at us.
One set was his .
"Well, a woman has needs," Aunt Hattie declared.
Having been single her whole life, Aunt Hattie lived life to the fullest and had many lovers, some discreet and others not so much.
She reached out to straighten my neckline with a gentle, almost absent-minded touch. "You look gorgeous."
"Thank you." I looked down at my dark blue dress, hoping that it didn’t make me look fat. Even now, after all these years, I worried about what people would say, the Savannah people, that is.
"Hello, hello," Suellen, Josie's mother's, voice crackled loudly, followed by the tapping of a finger on a microphone.
“Well,” Hattie drawled, her voice low and rich, “looks like the show’s about to begin. Try not to roll your eyes too hard, ladies; someone might notice.”
Rose and I giggled .
I listened to the speeches and the stories about how Josie and Rhett, the loves of each other’s lives, had met with a smile on my face, even though everything inside me was shriveling to see Rhett celebrating life with another woman.
I didn't love Rhett, no, he made sure to destroy that innocent affection—but he'd been my first lover, and right here was a reminder of that . He'd treated me like dirt but was elevating Josie as his future wife in society. He'd taken my virginity as part of a bet, but he'd given Josie a big fat diamond ring. He'd ridiculed my body and was now with a thin woman.
Now, I was a size six, which by societal standards was considered slim—but when I looked in the mirror, that's not what I saw. I saw every flaw magnified, every imperfection glaring back at me like an accusation.
According to my therapist, having been ridiculed by the boy who I'd given my virginity to, on top of being constantly reminded of it by my mother, classmates, and everyone in society, had led to my body dysmorphia.
My therapist had tried to teach me how to challenge those thoughts, to separate reality from the distorted image my mind conjured up. " The mirror isn’t a fact, Pearl ," she’d said more than once. " It’s a filter. Your brain is showing you what it fears, not what’s true ." But fear was powerful, and it whispered things I couldn’t ignore, not when I was standing here feeling every single one of my old wounds rip open.
Rhett had made sure I knew my body was unacceptable back then after I'd let him see me naked. God! I'd been so scared he wouldn't find me attractive. We'd been in our family’s summerhouse. He'd been sweet, kind, loving, affectionate, everything that I'd ever dreamed a first lover would be. He told me I was beautiful. He was the first person to do so.
To find out after that he'd lied—that it had all been a game, and in reality, he found me hideous, and my tight virgin hole was what made it bearable to fuck me—well, that was a poison that got into my bloodstream. That day by the pool had been the beginning of my unraveling, the moment I’d started to honestly believe that my body wasn’t good enough.
"Rhett is the best partner a girl could ask for," Josie spoke into the microphone as she looked into Rhett's eyes. They looked perfect together. Beautiful. Confident. I’d bet none of them looked in the mirror or their plate of food and wondered how they could disappear into nothingness.
"I'm the luckiest girl in the world," Josie continued.
"And he's the unluckiest," Aunt Hattie murmured.
Rose chuckled. "You know what they say about marriage?"
We both waited for her to tell us.
"Life is short, marriage is long, drink up."
"That's what Shirley MacLaine said in a movie," Aunt Hattie complained. "You stole it."
"You bet I did, but it's quite apropos."
Rhett came to the microphone then, and his presence silenced the room. He was a handsome man. He had blue eyes, was well-built, and had hair that always looked casually styled but perfect. And that face? God had spent extra time carving that one up. He looked, not hyperbole here, like a Greek god.
"I want to thank all of you for coming to celebrate this occasion with Josie and me. We're grateful for your blessings and your friendship," he spoke with quiet grace. His voice was sexy, audiobook dirty hero hot. Josie had landed herself one hunk of a man.
I could guarantee he was good in bed. If he'd been so caring and concerned about my pleasure then when he was seventeen, now in his early thirties, after way more experience than most men thanks to how he looked and who he was, I was sure he'd only gotten better.
Did he remember me? Did he remember my first time? And if he did, how did he feel about it? Was he disgusted that he’d had to have sex with someone as huge as me? The thought twisted in my mind, sharp and relentless, as my eyes drifted down to my body.
Even now, I couldn’t stop the flood of self-criticism. My thighs felt massive, like they didn’t belong to me. My stomach, though flat by most standards, felt convex, pushing outward in a way that seemed grotesque. My breasts were too big—not in the way society deemed attractive, but in a way that made me feel awkward.
The mirror was my enemy. Despite years of therapy, I avoided it whenever I could, especially when I was naked. Seeing myself fully exposed wasn’t just unpleasant—it was a trigger, a doorway to the darkest parts of my mind. The irony wasn’t lost on me: the one thing I could never escape—my own body—was what made me feel the most emotionally unbalanced. It wasn’t fair. How could a part of me so intrinsic, so inescapable, feel so foreign and wrong?
No matter how much progress I thought I’d made, in moments like these, I felt like I was back at square one. A war waged inside me, and the battlefield was my reflection.
My hands shook, and I breathed slowly, remembering the tips and tricks I had in my emotional stability toolbox. I focused on what I knew deep down: that Josie’s body had nothing to do with mine, that Rhett’s choices didn’t define my value. I was stronger than my old insecurities, and I wouldn't let them claw their way back into my psyche.
"As you know, Josie and I grew up together, and it's wonderful to see so many of our friends from childhood."
I raised my eyes and found him looking at me all the way across the ballroom.
"I thank each one of you for coming tonight. I hope that after dinner, we can catch up with a drink—and talk about days past, bring up the good memories, make amends where needed."
Josie looked at him squarely and tilted her chin as if asking him to say what she wanted him to.
Rhett cleared his throat. "I'm a fortunate man to be engaged to this beautiful and wonderful woman." He slid an arm around Josie and looked into her eyes.
She went on tiptoe and kissed him.
The crowd clapped.
I blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
"Your body is not the problem, Pearl. It’s the story you’ve told yourself—the story Rhett’s words planted in your mind," I could hear my therapist’s voice pulling me back from the edge . "But your life isn’t about Rhett. It never was. You’re good enough, and that has nothing to do with him. You don’t have to measure up to him, to them, or to anyone else. You’re brave. You’re free. You’re Pearl Beaumont, and you are a warrior."
I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing myself to straighten my posture.
I wasn’t that girl by the pool anymore. I wasn’t the joke, the bet, the girl who needed someone else’s approval to feel whole.
I was ready to escape after the speeches because I’d had enough. I was walking out of the restroom when I bumped into Sage. I sighed. This evening was not getting better.
Sage smiled at me eagerly. “Pearl, it’s so nice to see you.”
My patience was thin, my nerves frayed. “Can we cut the crap, yeah? We’re alone here, and no one can hear you, so you don’t have to pretend that?—”
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, speaking over me. “I was horrible to you. It has…it has haunted me. Rhett, too. I am really sorry, Pearl.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and I took a step back, away from her. “What game are you playing?” I didn’t trust this woman, not at all.
She looked at me sadly. “I’m not. I swear.” She jerked her head to a door that led outside, where several guests were spread out. “Please, can I have a few minutes of your time?”
She looked so sincere and devastated that I didn’t have the heart to turn her down. I nodded. We stepped outside and found a quiet corner with tables and chairs. We sat at one.
Sage rubbed her hands together. She looked good, like she always had. She never had to worry about her weight. She also looked older—more than I did, in fact.
“You know I got married,” she began, “to a guy who was supposed to be perfect , he came with the Savannah society stamp of approval.”
I folded my arms and leaned back. She wanted to talk, I’d let her.
“The marriage was a disaster. We were toxic. We fought. We threw things at each other. We…were physically abusive.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I put a hand on her shoulder, hating that anyone had to experience physical abuse.
“We both were. Though he was stronger than me,” Sage said, and then tears started to flow down her cheeks. “Even now, you want to comfort me? What I said to you and about you, Pearl, you should be applauding that terrible things happened to me because I definitely deserved it.”
I pulled my hand away from her and frowned. “No one deserves that. And how would my enjoying your tragedy improve my situation?”
Sage plucked a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped her eyes. “But even before that, Rhett and I…after what happened with you, we changed. I?—”
“Sage, you were the one who told the girls on the debate team about what Rhett did,” I reminded her.
Look, I was all about people apologizing, if that was their jam, but no way was she rewriting history .
“Yes,” she admitted. “It was like, I’d already screwed up so go for bust.” She shook her head in self-disgust. “But I grew up. So did Rhett.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I doubt that. He’s marrying Miss Josie Vance.”
Sage laughed without humor. “I tried to tell him that he was entering the same kind of marriage I had—maybe less violent. That he’d eventually end up divorced like me or live unhappily until death did them part.”
“Sage, what do you want to say to me?” I rose then. I wasn’t here to be drawn into chit-chat about Rhett and Josie. I didn’t want to be that woman who gossiped and wished ill on others.
“That I’m sorry. That what I did was wrong, horrible. That I’m a better person now, and I’m working to be even more so.”
I nodded. “I’m happy for you, Sage.”
She licked her lips, waiting for me to say the words I knew she wanted to hear.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” I continued, “and because you have been so candid, so will I. Your apology does nothing to change my life—it doesn’t amend what I was put through as a young woman and how it has defined my life in some very ugly ways. If you’re expecting forgiveness from me, it’s not coming. I can’t forgive you, not because I’m carrying hate or anger for you, but because I can’t condone what you did. You talk like you were oh so young and foolish, but Sage, we’re both the same age. I never hurt you or anyone else on purpose, but all of you did what you did, maliciously and with the intent to harm me. So, I’m glad you’re working on yourself, but you’ll have to continue to do so without my involvement.”
Sage nodded as if she understood, shame written over her face. “I understand. I…I hope we can be friends…or friendly.”
I shook my head. “We can be acquaintances,” I offered.
“I’ll take it.” She got up then, and nodded at me. “Thank you for hearing me out, Pearl. That was generous of you.”
I felt like a petty bitch for not forgiving her and saying, “ Hey, it’s okay, it’s in the past. ” But that would be a lie, and I wouldn’t, couldn’t say it. I had to be honest with myself, and pretending like what was done to me was no big deal was not good for my mental health, which, since I came back to Savannah, was hanging by a thread.