Chapter Eighteen Savannah
| Eighteen |
Savannah
After learning about Bennett’s prior engagements, Savannah was more certain than ever that she’d done the right thing by refusing to live with him until they were married.
When she had pressed Marion for details, she found out that both of his fiancées had broken things off at the last minute.
That made her feel a little better. At least he hadn’t been the one to leave someone at the altar.
And this had occurred years ago, before he had married Poppy.
She debated asking him about it, but they had agreed not to delve into each other’s past romantic histories, and she certainly didn’t want to have to tell him about hers.
What mattered was the future. And hers was bright.
It was her last day at the agency. Marion had thrown her a little going-away party—cake and champagne.
Despite her elation about marrying Bennett, Savannah was a little sad at the thought of leaving.
She had worked hard to land her job, and she hadn’t yet accomplished what she’d set out to do when she’d moved to the city.
But then again, there was no reason she couldn’t finish her novel in Bedford in her new home.
In fact, she’d have a better chance of doing just that with little else to do but write.
She had already packed up her belongings and put them in the U-Haul she’d rented.
Bennett had offered to come and drive her back, but she wanted to do it herself.
Besides, it was only a little over an hour drive to Bedford.
The last thing she needed to do was to go to the bank and rent a safe-deposit box.
It would be too dangerous to bring the document with her.
She would come back to the city and apply for a passport after they were married.
Fortunately, they wouldn’t be going to Paris until May.
She took a last look around the apartment.
She’d sold the sofa bed since she wouldn’t be taking it with her, and someone was coming by in the morning to collect it.
Tonight was the last night she’d spend on it.
She poured herself a glass of cabernet, put on some music, and sat down, thinking of all that was to come.
What would her wretched parents think now that she was getting everything she wanted?
They had never encouraged her writing. Had told her to have a backup plan.
What would they think now that she was engaged to someone whose writing had bought the kind of life they could only dream of?
The kind of life she was now stepping into and would soon be able to afford herself.
Soon Bennett would belong to her. One thing was for sure, becoming the wife of a New York Times bestselling author was great, but it was not the same as becoming one herself.
Savannah would never give up on that goal.
She thought back to the last time she saw her parents.
She had been getting ready to leave for her last semester at the University of North Carolina, where she would graduate with a bachelor’s in fine arts, not the business or accounting degree her father had tried to pressure her into.
Their poverty of imagination was something she’d been forced to deal with her entire life.
They thought she was an aimless dreamer.
“You know you have to get a real job once you graduate, right?” her mother had asked that last night.
Savannah had merely nodded. “I’ll work during the day and write at night. It worked for John Grisham.”
Her father scoffed. “He was a lawyer. Had the good sense to arm himself with a profession. He always had that to fall back on.”
Savannah had rolled her eyes. “Well, the writing seems to have worked out for him. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to continue to support me. There’re plenty of jobs I can do while I follow my dream of becoming a novelist.”
As angry as she still was at them, there was a part of her that would never stop craving their approval.
For them to just once tell her she was good enough.
She had embarked on her quest to prove them wrong.
She would be a successful novelist. For the past five years, she had worked hard all day and, in the evenings, taken classes on writing from local groups.
It hadn’t taken her long to become a valued asset at Margolis, Sutton & Klein.
During that time, she had submitted her work under a pen name to other agencies.
She had hoped to get an offer before she asked Marion to read.
That way she’d know it was good enough to take her one chance.
But all she kept getting were rejections.
She wouldn’t dwell on the other rejection, the one that had stung almost as much as the letters of dismissal from agents.
She had truly believed that Derek was the one.
He had singled her out in the writing workshop, complimented her work, and offered to help her refine it and get it in good enough shape to give to his agent.
He was nowhere as successful as Bennett but did well enough and was with one of the big five publishers.
She had fallen for him hard. When the semester was over, so was his interest. She had made a fool of herself.
He had used her. She swore she would never let a man do that to her again.
She was getting maudlin. Why was she ruminating on the past? Bennett loved her and would never hurt her. Her future was bright. No more regrets. Nothing was going to stand in her way this time.