21. Rhett
TWENTY-ONE
RHETT
Over the weekend, I was busy fixing a client’s systems that had gone haywire, so I had to make an impromptu visit to Atlanta, where I worked with my team.
I had sent a few texts to Pearl but hadn’t heard back, and since I hadn’t had time to call her, I was eager to see her when I came to Savannah Lace on Monday morning for a meeting with the finance team there.
The meeting was routine, the kind I could usually navigate on autopilot, but today I couldn’t focus.
My attention kept drifting to the door, waiting for Pearl to walk in.
She always sat near the back, her laptop open, poised, and attentive.
Her quiet energy balanced the room, the way she listened so intently, offering an insight that cut through the noise like a scalpel.
But today, her chair was empty.
I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe she was running late.
Maybe she was tied up in another meeting or project.
But as the minutes ticked by, the nagging knot of unease in my gut tightened.
By the time the meeting wrapped up and she still hadn’t appeared, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Something wasn’t right.
I lingered as everyone else filed out, nodding distractedly at a few passing colleagues before turning to Nina, who was packing up her things at the head of the table.
“Hey, Nina.” I kept my tone casual. “Where’s Pearl?”
Nina glanced up, her sharp eyes appraising me for a moment before she answered, her voice cool and clipped. “She’s taken a leave of absence.”
“A what?” Pearl wasn’t feeling well? Panic set in. Was this why she hadn’t responded to my messages? What happened? Why hadn’t Aunt Hattie called me? “What happened? Is she okay?”
“That’s not for me to say,” Nina replied, closing her laptop with a deliberate snap. “But whatever it is, I suggest you tread carefully, Rhett.”
Her words were pointed, her gaze heavy with warning.
Before I could press her further, she slipped past me, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she disappeared down the hall.
I stood still for a moment, my mind racing, and then I pulled out my phone.
I called Pearl, no answer.
I called Aunt Hattie, no answer.
I texted them both. No reply.
I grabbed my backpack and headed for the exit, my steps quickening as unease bloomed in my chest. I had another meeting in an hour, but to hell with it—I was going to Aunt Hattie’s to check on Pearl.
Maybe she had the flu. Maybe….
“You son of a bitch.” Luna charged at me when I was out of the building. She had followed me out.
“What?”
“You’re one devious creep, Rhett Vanderbilt, and to think I thought you’d turned a new leaf, you can take the teenager out of the asshole, but you can’t take the asshole out of the human being.”
I raised a hand. “I’m assuming this is about Pearl. I’m headed her way and?—”
“Oh, I think not,” she snapped, closing the distance between us.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sheer force of her anger. “What the hell is going on?”
She tittered, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “You really don’t know?”
“Luna,” I said, my voice tightening. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Otherwise, I need to get going.”
“Fine,” she hissed, her eyes blazing. “Pearl’s gone because of you. Because someone decided to throw her past in her face in front of half of Savannah. And gee, I wonder who might have told Josie all those personal details about Pearl’s health challenges, huh?”
The air seemed to drain out of the world.
“I haven’t talked to Josie since I ended our engagement, and I’ve never talked to her about Pearl.” My heart hammered because I could guess what had happened.
Luna’s eyes narrowed. I stepped aside as someone walked up the ramp to get to the door of the building. Once they were gone, I turned to Luna. “I’ve been in Atlanta all weekend. What the fuck happened?”
“Josie decided to tell everyone and God at The Peacock Lounge that Pearl has an eating disorder and how she almost died. I’ve never seen someone break….” Luna took a deep, shaky breath.
“Wait,” I said, my voice low and unsteady. “You think I told Josie?” Did Pearl think that, too? Of course, she did. Holy hell!
“Well, who else would have?” she demanded, stepping closer, her fury palpable. “You’re the only one she trusted with that part of her life, Rhett. She told us how she’d never told anyone but you and Aunt Hattie, and we know Hattie’s a fuckin’ vault.”
My stomach dropped. Pearl’s secrets—her struggles, her pain—they weren’t mine to share. I would never, never betray her trust like that. But if she believed I had….
“I didn’t tell Josie,” I said firmly, meeting Luna’s glare head-on. “I swear to you, Luna. I didn’t.”
Her eyes searched mine, skeptical but wavering slightly. “Then how the hell did Josie talk about it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t me. I’d never do that to Pearl.”
Luna crossed her arms again, her anger still simmering but tempered now by uncertainty. “Well, Pearl doesn’t seem to believe that. She’s shattered, Rhett. She thinks you betrayed her, and honestly, I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”
Pearl thought I’d taken the most vulnerable parts of her and handed them over to someone who’d use them as weapons.
I felt sick.
“Is she at home? Did she…where is she?” I asked, my voice quiet but urgent.
Luna shook her head. “No. I went by her place and knocked and knocked, and no one answered. And Hattie is out of town with Missy, so I couldn’t ask them, either. If you care about her—if you’re even half the man you’re trying to be—you’ll figure out a way to make this right.”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I will,” I said, more to myself than to Luna.
She gave me one last hard look before going back into Savannah Lace.
I all but ran to my car, my mind spinning. This morning, I had felt free. I had finally cut the strings that had been binding me to a life I didn’t want. I had been ready to move forward, to see if there was a chance for a real relationship with Pearl.
But now I feared that it was all destroyed before it could even begin. I didn’t know how Josie had found out about Pearl’s past, but I knew one thing for sure: Pearl thought I’d betrayed her, and that thought alone was enough to break me and probably her.
I had to fix this. Not because I wanted her to forgive me but because she deserved to know the truth. She deserved better than the pain she’d been dealt—not just by me, but by everyone who’d failed her.
I didn’t know where to start, but I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to let her face this alone. Not this time.
I had tried to call everyone I could think of at Hattie’s estate, and no one knew where Pearl was. Her car was by her cottage, but no one had seen her all weekend. My heart sank. Was Pearl alright? Was she hurt?
By the time I pulled up to Pearl’s cottage, I was having a full-blown panic attack. The pond shimmered in the bright light, and the air was heavy with the sticky heat of another unforgiving Savannah day.
I parked, climbed out of the car, and walked toward the cottage. I knocked and rang the doorbell, looking through all the windows, but I couldn’t see much because the blinds were closed. I tried all the doors, but they were locked.
I remembered, then, where she kept her spare key. I picked up the fake stone, found her key, and opened the door.
“Pearl?” I called out, stepping inside cautiously.
The cottage was quiet. No music, no TV, no sign of the Pearl I’d come to know over the past few months.
The first thing I noticed was the kitchen. An untouched glass of milk sat on the counter next to a plate of Kraft’s mac and cheese. The milk had curdled, and the mac and cheese was dry.
My chest tightened. This didn’t feel right.
“Pearl?” I called again, louder this time, moving deeper into the house.
I found her in the bedroom.
She was sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the side of the bed, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs like she was trying to hold herself together, and her head rested on her knees, her hair falling in a soft, tangled curtain that hid her face.
She didn’t look up when I stepped inside.
“Pearl.” Her name came out softly, but my voice shook despite my effort to steady it. I knelt beside her, my hand hovering hesitantly near her shoulder. Relief had flooded me the moment I found her, but it evaporated the second I saw her like this—fragile, folded in on herself.
She didn’t respond, didn’t move. Her breathing was shallow, her shoulders rising and falling with a rhythm that felt off—too quick, too strained. Her skin looked pale, almost translucent, and there was a fine tremor running through her fingers where they gripped her knees.
“Pearl,” I tried again, softer this time, inching closer. “Hey, baby, it’s me.”
Her head tilted slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, and her eyes…God, her eyes. They were empty. Hollow. Like she wasn’t really here.
“How could you?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
I took her cold hands in mine and looked into her eyes. “I didn’t tell her. I’d never do that to you.”
“You did then.”
I knew she was talking about what I did fifteen years ago.
“Not this time. Please, believe me.”
She just stared at me with her lifeless eyes.
“Have you eaten anything?”
She shook her head.
“Since when?”
Luna told me the Peacock Lounge incident happened on Friday evening. It was now Monday morning.
“I didn’t eat,” she simply replied.
“Oh, baby.” I pulled her into my lap and held her close.
“I couldn’t,” she continued, her words spilling out in a rushed, broken whisper. “I tried. I cooked. I sat down. But it was too much.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. She needed me to be her rock now, not crumble. “Sweetheart, you need food. Your body needs nourishment.”