11. Rhett #2
“…and that’s when I told him, ‘If you’re going to try to micromanage a spreadsheet, at least learn how to use Excel first,’” Layla was telling a story about a previous consultant, her tone half exasperated, half amused. Everyone burst into laughter.
“You actually said that?” someone asked.
“Of course, she did,” Pearl interjected, her grin mischievous. “I mean, he was color-coding cells like it was an art project. Someone had to stop him before he hurt himself.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Pearl had a way of being sharp without being unkind, confident without being mean.
As the conversation shifted to market trends, I found myself watching her more than listening. I noticed how expressive her hands were as she spoke, how she leaned forward slightly when making a point, and how her clear and steady voice got respect without her ever demanding it.
She wasn’t gossiping, wasn’t talking about who was dating who, or what scandal was brewing in Savannah’s social circles. She was talking about ideas, challenges, and solutions, and she did it with a kind of ease that made everyone at the table want to hear what she had to say.
And I realized, with a suddenness that made my chest tighten, that I was falling for her. I wasn't just physically attracted to her—though God knew I was that, too—but actually falling for her for the way she thought, the way she carried herself, her easy charm—everything.
I was sucker punched.
I recognized that this wasn’t just some passing interest, wasn’t some fleeting curiosity about a woman I’d once wronged.
This was deeper, messier, and far more dangerous.
Because as much as I wanted her, I couldn’t have her.
Not the way I wanted, not while Josie was still wearing my ring, and my life was tied up in knots I hadn’t figured out how to untangle.
“Rhett, you with us?” Layla’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry.” I set my glass down. “I was a million miles away.”
Pearl watched me with curiosity. “Layla asked if you thought the industry was ready for more aggressive fin-tech integration,” she supplied, tilting her head slightly. “Or do you think we’re all still a little too afraid of change?”
I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat.
“I think there’s always resistance to change.
” I forced myself to focus and be social like I'd been taught and trained. “But the ones who embrace the right kind of change early tend to be the ones who come out ahead. It’s just a matter of convincing people that the short-term disruption is worth the long-term gains.”
"Spoken like a true consultant,” Pearl remarked, her tone teasing but not unkind.
“Guilty as charged," I said graciously, thrilled that she was talking to me.
Since our conversation by her pond, the antagonism between us had diminished. We could talk to one another without constantly bringing up the past, without me apologizing, and her telling me to go fuck myself.
The conversation moved on, but my attention stayed with Pearl.
"How has the conference been for you?" I wanted to talk to her and get to know her better. I respected and admired her. All things I was fully aware I didn't feel for my fiancée.
"Good." She let out a deep breath. "As exhilarating as these conferences are, they leave me exhausted. The time zone shift and constantly being on, it takes a lot out of you."
The staying-on part was a problem for me as well, and it was probably a bigger one for Pearl, who was an introvert.
"Do you feel like going for a walk?" I asked impulsively.
She stared at me, and I waited to hear her verdict of how she saw the man I'd become because I wanted to be the kind of man Pearl respected.
"Yes," she agreed.
We left the others and went to the beach.
Pearl walked barefoot, her sandals dangling from one hand.
The hem of her ankle-length dress swayed in the breeze, and her ponytail had loosened into soft strands that framed her face.
She looked beautiful. She was so damned gorgeous and it broke my heart to think I’d ever made her feel less over something as trivial as her body weight.
"Tell me something true," I asked, desperate for her to open up to me.
She stopped and turned to look at me. "What do you want to know?"
I licked my lips. Everything I wanted to say, but how could I when I had a fiancée waiting for me at home?
"How…how…." I closed my eyes and waited for the storm to pass. "Tell me how I hurt you."
Her eyes went wide, both with, I thought, shock and emotion. "What?"
This was not the time for this conversation, but I desperately wanted to make amends, and the only way to do that was to understand the damage I had done.
"You're a different person than you used to be," I explained. "So am I. That day changed me, too, Pearl."
"How?" she demanded, challenge flickering in her eyes.
The crash of the waves against the sand merged with the roar of my guilt as I confessed the truth. "It made me realize that I had no integrity. I was the kind of person who could hurt another human being simply because…I could. I felt a lot of shame. But not enough, Pearl. Not nearly enough.”
She folded her arms, her sandals still dangling absently from her fingers, as if she needed to comfort herself.
"When I saw you a few years later, I pounced at the opportunity to absolve myself.
I thought if I said I was sorry, you'd accept, and it would be over, this cycle of shame and self-loathing.
" I smirked in self-deprecation. "I was such a fool.
I didn't understand then that a mere apology was worthless.
I was even annoyed that you wouldn't accept my generous confession of remorse. "
"My mother and Cash were quite upset with me for being rude to you." I could feel her disdain for them and me in her tone. “I didn't come back to Savannah for several years after that."
"I know." I gave her a weak smile. "I waited, you see, for you to come so I could…do better."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"
"But, I realized too late, actually, only recently, that a man who was not a coward would have followed you to California and made his point.
" It was not easy to lay myself open to her, especially since I didn't know if she'd kick me in the ribs while I was down.
But if she did, it was no less than I deserved.
She turned and began walking again. I kept pace with her. We were silent for a while. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves.
"It messed me up…big time," she began, and I immediately felt my stomach tighten because I knew whatever she was going to tell me was not going to be pleasant. But if she'd lived it, I had to have the balls to hear her out.
"It was my first time," her voice was small.
"Yes." I could barely get the word out.
She walked straight, looking ahead, while I looked at her, watching her face, waiting for her to explain the devastation I'd brought upon her.
"It took me a while to have sex…I did…I mean, I do. But I tend to go for short relationships, one-night stands. Sex is complicated when you…." She trailed off.
"When you went through what you did?" I finished softly.
She shook her head. "When you look at your body and you hate everything about it."
Fuck!
"Pearl, I thought you were beautiful then, and I think you're beautiful now. It has nothing to do with how you look—though you are gorgeous, it was always about who you are."
She stopped walking and turned to face me.
"You said that my being a virgin made up for how I looked."
She remembered what I'd said, just as I did. You never forgot the time you dropped the lowest you ever could as a human.
"I didn't want them to know that I was attracted to you. That sex with you had been…amazing."
She swallowed.
"You called me Bumblebee."
I closed my eyes because I could feel emotions well up, and it wasn't fair for me to show her my tears and make this conversation about me when it was about her.
"I'm sorry." What else was there to say?
She smiled wanly. "Do you know what my Tinder handle is?"
I shook my head.
"Bumblebee1703."
March seventeenth was her birthday.
"I owned that name," she said proudly. "I had to work through a lot.
I was never the best for anyone. My parents always thought Cash was better, and Birdie wished Josie was her daughter.
I was too fat, too dull, too ugly. You…well…
let's not belabor that point. You know what happens to a young person who only hears about themselves in reference to their body? "
I could guess, but I didn't reply to her rhetorical question and waited for her to reveal her truth.