Page 30 of Best Kept Vows (Savannah’s Best #6)

Sebastian

O ur first couples counseling session was painful .

It was emotional and raw.

After, Lia went to her place, and I wandered the streets. The heat of the summer night settled weightily over the city, amplifying the heaviness in my chest.

It was my first time going to therapy, and I honestly didn’t understand why anyone would want to do that to themselves.

The session with Dr. Monica Ryan was like stepping onto a battlefield naked and unarmed.

She didn’t let me deflect, and she didn’t let Lia minimize her pain to keep the peace.

She forced us to sit in the wreckage of what I had done, peeling back the layers of resentment and distance, making me see how deep the cracks had run.

And all this in just fifty-five fucking minutes!

“Mostly, I was afraid of saying anything,” Lia explained, her eyes closed as she answered Dr. Ryan’s question as to why she didn’t open up to me about how she felt. “I felt like if the choice were between his family and me, he’d pick them.”

Of course, I knew that things were bad, but hearing her say aloud how bad they were, hearing it laid bare, broke me.

“Baby, you and the kids are my family,” I protested.

Lia shook her head. “That’s not how it felt, Sebastian. You asked me to conform. I never heard you ask your mother or your sister or your father to treat me with respect. You let them say what they wanted and told me to ignore it.”

I had done that.

“Hearing this, how does it make you feel?” Dr. Ryan asked me.

“Like I’m the worst fuck up in the world.”

Dr. Ryan nodded.

She was what you called a handsome woman. She put you instantly at ease. She had some of the same qualities as my wife—warm and inviting, but there was no mistaking her sharpness, which was softened by the salt-and-pepper curls framing her face.

“And how do you think Lia felt? Feels?”

I felt shame because I knew how it made her feel. “Unseen. Invalidated.”

I wanted to hold Lia because she looked so fragile—and I’d brought this upon myself by being a selfish motherfucker.

“Lia, can you tell Sebastian how his behavior and actions made…make you feel?”

I noticed how Dr. Ryan brought in the past, but I also wanted to confirm if what we were saying was true in the present .

Lia breathed out softly. “Like I was last on his list of priorities.”

She didn’t raise her voice.

She didn’t cry.

She said those words quietly, resignedly, and they hit harder than her screaming them to me would have.

“And now?” Dr. Ryan prompted.

“I…”—Lia looked at me and I saw fear and confusion in her eyes—“don’t know. He seems to be taking my side, but I feel like it’s only because I left. If I’d stayed, nothing would’ve changed.”

Dr. Ryan gave Lia an appraising glance. “So, what?”

Lia frowned.

Dr. Ryan shifted slightly in her seat, her face impassive. “Let me ask you this—if Sebastian is changing because you left, isn’t that the point? Didn’t you step away to give yourself space to think but also to give him the opportunity to reflect and make different choices?”

Lia’s head moved in a slow, solemn nod. “Then why do I feel like he should've fixed things before I left?”

“How could he when you never told him how upset you were?” Dr. Ryan pointed out.

“I knew,” I interjected. “I just…chose to keep the peace with my mother over her.”

I felt Lia flinch at those words. I couldn’t help it because the truth was just that. I had chosen my family over her. I had chosen myself over her.

“You know, every time Lia blames you for something, you tend to defend yourself. Now, when I’m placing some modicum of responsibility on Lia, you’re defending her,” Dr. Ryan mused. “Why is that?”

I shrugged. “It’s not her fault. I am at fault…for everything.”

Lia put a hand on mine, which was resting on my thigh. “Honey, there are two people in a marriage—like they say, you need two hands to clap.”

“But I fucked up big time. I hate that I’ve been a shitty husband.”

“You have to stop with such polarizing statements,” Dr. Ryan urged. “You were not a horrible husband for every minute of every day for twenty-two years. And Lia wasn’t quiet about her needs all the time.”

“I took her for granted.” I was having trouble getting the words out. I had made my wife feel unloved. My Lia. Beautiful, fantastic Lia who gave so openly. I’d squandered it on bullshit pride and family peace.

“Before our next session, I want each of you to think of two times when you felt lucky to be married to one another—and two times when you felt the opposite,” Dr. Ryan instructed.

I could list a hundred reasons why I was lucky to be married to Lia without even breaking a sweat, I thought as I stepped into the dimly lit bar tucked into the corner of Broughton Street. If I was going to spend the evening drowning in self-reflection, I needed a damn drink first.

The bar was called The Wayward. I’d never been here before.

It was classic Savannah, with exposed brick walls, candlelit tables, and a long wooden bar stocked with high-end bourbon.

It was intimate, the kind of setting where you could imagine people whispering secrets over whiskey, with slow jazz playing in the background.

The bar was also a little whimsical, with a classic motorcycle suspended from the ceiling, which definitely added to its distinctive charm.

I slid onto a stool, nodding to the bartender.

“I’ll have a Michter’s 10-year,” I ordered because I’d seen the bottle on the shelf behind him.

He poured the amber liquid into a heavy glass, the scent rich and familiar. I took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through me, but it did nothing to quiet the aching hollow in me.

“Open tab?” the bartender asked.

I shook my head and handed him my credit card. I had to drive home, so this was my first and last drink of the night.

I signed the receipt and sat back to enjoy my drink the best I could under the circumstances. The bar was busy, which wasn’t unusual for a Friday night.

A group of friends near the entrance laughed loudly, the easy kind of laughter that belonged to people with no real worries. A couple in the corner leaned in close, their hands entwined, murmuring intimately.

I used to have that. I used to have her .

I took another sip, my grip tightening around the glass. What if I had already lost her for good? The thought was interrupted by a voice beside me.

“Sebastian Boone, right? ”

I turned to see the man who’d been in the photograph Jane had triumphantly shown me.

He was Luna Steele’s brother Lev. I’d checked him out. He ran the Steele timber business. I wondered how that was going, not that it failing would hurt the Steele fortune. But then, maybe people thought the same about the Boone non-existent fortune. Looks, as they said, could be deceiving.

“Lev Steele.” He held out his hand. I shook it after a brief hesitation.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, and ten years younger than me. Was I ever this confident and comfortable in my skin at his age? I didn’t think so.

He sat on the empty stool next to mine.

“Hey, Lev, how’s it goin’?” the bartender greeted him.

“All good, man. How’s the wife?”

“Big as a house,” the bartender chuckled. “Your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, Javier.”

His usual was a beer on tap. He took a sip of the drink and made an appreciative humming sound. “We’ve got a mutual connection—your wife.”

I lifted a brow. “I’m aware.”

He smirked, unbothered. “She lives across the hallway from me.”

They were neighbors? Fucking hell, I thought in dismay . I knew she wouldn’t cheat, but I didn’t think I could stand it if she were even attracted to him.

“We had dinner together the other day at Collins.”

That was the same restaurant she’d asked me to meet her at on Monday when she agreed to see me. I studied him, trying to get a sense of him.

“My wife works for your sister.”

He shrugged. “Luna is head of architecture at Savannah Lace, a lot of people work for her.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, so I drank some more. I wasn’t in a good headspace, and this boy wasn’t helping.

Come on, Sebastian, he’s not a boy, he’s a grown man, and Lia looked fucking thrilled to be having dinner with him. Remember the last time she laughed like that with you?

Fuck my life! I couldn’t remember a time when Lia had been that happy with me. Part of it was my fault, my workaholism, my need to first prove I could survive without Boone Metals, and then to prove I could make Boone Metals survive.

“There’s a friend of mine,” Lev said conversationally. “She’s been with her husband for…I don’t know, fifteen years or so. They have two kids, and he works, and she stays home.”

He looked at the menu, and I waited for him to make his point.

“Javier, can we get some popcorn and some truffle fries.” He set the menu away. “I missed lunch, and it’s too early for dinner.”

Like I give a shit!

“Anyway, so my friend, let’s call her Marcy, yeah?”

I gave him my best withering look, learned from the queen of such looks, Dolly Boone .

He let out a slow, soft laugh. “Anyway, Marcy is doing her thing, raising the kids, running around. And her husband, let’s call him Mark, yeah? Anyway, Mark is working like a dog, climbing the ladder, and all that jazz."

Javier slid the popcorn between us. I popped one into my mouth just to shut the hell up because I wanted to tell Lev to either get to the point or fuck off.

We weren’t friends. Hell, this was the first time I was meeting the guy.

“Marcy is tired all the time. Mark is tired all the time. They’re in what one calls the rut of marriage.” He raised a hand then. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not married and don’t intend to fall into the institution. But Marcy is a friend, and she told me, and I trust her to know her marital stuff.”

I ate some more popcorn, trying hard not to seethe.