I thought of my brother, and how I still wasn’t sure if I was in withhim—or hovering somewhere on the edge.
I took my seat at the long dining table, trying not to slouch, pretending it didn’t mean the world that these people—Charlie, Lee, Sutton, even Eunice—were putting in this level of effort for someone who felt like she barely belonged.
Eunice, who had known me all of five minutes, looked like she had more faith in me than my own mother ever had.
“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice carrying loud enough to cut through the hum of conversation.
Charlie leaned back in his seat, eyes landing on mine, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Of course you will, darlin’.”
Chapter Ten
CHARLIE
Everyyear,theDaughtersof Savannah Civic Society put on a pre-holiday charity event that, once upon a time, took place in the grand ballrooms of the city’s finest homes. But Savannah was changing, as cities tend to do. Most of those old buildings had been snatched up by Savannah College of Art and Design or turned into bed-and-breakfasts.
The old families—once the epicenter of Southern society—had mostly moved on from the city center. But the money they left behind? That stuck around. And the people still holding onto it liked to toss it around like confetti.
This year’s event was being held at Trustees’ Garden, one of Oglethorpe’s old experiments, where he once tested which crops could survive Georgia’s soil. Now, it was a sprawling event venue crawling with Savannah’s elite—ready to outbid their friends at the silent auction and spend top dollar on the art we’d all graciously “donated.” I use that word loosely. Eunice was giving most of the artists a cut, seeing as we were all, well, broke.
I parked in an empty spot and looked to the woman beside me—who, judging by her expression, was about three seconds away from recreating the night we met and losing it all over my dashboard.
“You got this, Tally,” I said gently.
She nodded but didn’t speak. Hadn’t said a word since I picked her up—well, since I took the elevator up to get her. Silent in the garage. Silent the whole drive. Her hands were folded in her lap, knuckles white.
Every day, her belly grew a little more noticeable. Instead of dressing in head-to-toe-black, like a photographer who could blend into the wallpaper, Eunice had sent for a custom ballgown, claiming Tally needed a showstopper to help her “mingle with the donors and look divine doing it.”
She already looked uncomfortable as hell before we even left, but now, watching her try to climb out of the truck with her camera bag in one hand and her dress hiked up to her thighs in the other, she looked like she was about to crawl out of her skin.
I rushed around to the passenger side, grabbed her gear, and took her hand to help ease her down. She looked pale, shaky—nothing like the woman who, in a few minutes, would walk into a room looking drop-dead gorgeous and possibly land the biggest opportunity she’d had since showing up in Savannah.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. Her hair was pinned up in some fancy, low bun, littleringlets springing loose to frame her face. “I can take you home right now if you’re feeling sick.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”
Her voice was quiet. She chewed her bottom lip, eyes soft and scared in a way that made my gut tighten.
“I’m just nervous,” she whispered.
I cupped the back of her neck and made sure she met my eyes. “Hey, darlin’. You’re gonna do great. I’ll be there. Lee, Sutton, Magnolia—hell, even your brother’s inside, spending his money like the rest of ’em.”
“Ugh. That’s what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled, eyes flicking toward the sound of Lee and Ryan, Lee’s songwriting partner, warming up on stage. “I don’t need Doyle judging me. Or worse—thinking I’m gonna screw it all up.”
I shut the truck door behind her and slid my fingers between hers. She looked up at me with those wide, nervous eyes that nearly undid me. The way she was dressed, the way her hair was done, the light makeup—it wrecked me.
And for a second, I let myself pretend we were two regular people walking into a gala together. Not the hired help.
Because tonight? This girl deserved to feel like a damn queen.
We entered the main room where the band was set up, and Lee waved us over from the stage. Sutton and Magnolia were leaning against the rail, shouting at Lee and Ryan, who were both fiddling with the amps. As we got closer, I caught the tail end of Sutton yelling, “It sounds like shit,” before both guys threw their hands up and rolled their eyes in perfect unison.
My sister turned around, and the second she clocked our joined hands, her eyes went wide as saucers. She smacked Sutton in the arm.
Magnolia was dressed in full bartender attire, Sutton in her more formal, all-black chef’s gear, but they’d clearly done theirhair and makeup. As always, they looked stunning. I leaned in and kissed my sister on the cheek, then did the same to Sutton.
“Hi, Tally,” Sutton giggled, shooting a look at Magnolia. “Charlie Pruitt, my my my. Haven’t seen you hold hands with a girl since we were in middle school.”
Suddenly aware of our touching, Tally snatched her hand back and wiped her palm down the front of her dress. “Sorry, Charlie,” she mumbled, leaning in to give the girls half-hearted hugs as they all exchanged overly polite compliments like a gaggle of geese seeing each other for the first time in years.
