Love the One You're With

  “Lovely,” the host murmured politely. He pulled one of the chairs out for Edie.

  “Thank you,” Edie said as she sat down with a noisy clatter.

  “So, what’s happening with you all?” she asked as if she were an ultra-caffeinated morning talk show host.

  “Not too much,” Avery said after a moment of silence. “Jack and I are having fun. She’s hanging on the beach.”

  “I’m so glad she decided to come stay with us,” Edie said absently as she threaded her fingers into Remington’s.

  “That’s great.” Remington nodded. “You know, for so many years, I forgot how great it is to just gather people around. Have a party!” He nodded happily.

  A white apron–clad man wearing a light blue freshly pressed Mao-collared jacket strode over to the table. “You, sir, are in trouble,” he said, shaking his head at Remington. “I’m Jean Luc, the chef here,” the man explained to the girls. “I’ve been here for years, and this gentleman used to be one of our best customers. Here all the time, life of the party! But then he has a midlife crisis, goes to find himself—I don’t know where better to find yourself than in paradise, but who am I to say?” the chef asked, of no one in particular. “But I have to say, I’m just glad you found your way back and with such beautiful guests. I’m sending over the tasting menu and some dark and stormies to your party. Even though now you’re Mister Light and Sunny!” Jean Luc smiled as Remington laughed and jumped up to give his old friend a hearty handshake.

  “Oh, Remy, you were never dark and stormy. Except for those business school years when I’d run into you.” Edie shook her head, enjoying her private recollection. Avery shifted in her seat. Yes, she was happy for them, but couldn’t they stop talking and eat lunch?

  “Let’s keep the dark and stormy side out of it,” Remington laughed, then leaned in and kissed the tip of Edie’s ski-jump nose, giving it a playful bite.

  “Daddy, you’re embarrassing!” Layla squealed, but it didn’t sound like she really minded.

  “I’m embarrassing?” Remington roared playfully. “I have to watch you and Riley cozying up to each other all the time.” He clapped Layla on the back. “Just a little payback to my dear daughter.”

  “Can I be excused for a second?” Baby asked, pushing her chair back.

  “Of course, sweet!” Edie said. “I hope you’re not still sick,” she fretted.

  “I’ll make sure she’s all right.” Avery scraped her chair back. Why was Baby acting so weird? Avery had never seen her so nervous, not even on the many occasions she was called to the headmistress’s office at Constance. She hoped that she didn’t have a problem with Remington, the way Owen seemed to.

  Avery pushed open the white wooden door to the women’s bathroom and saw Baby sitting on a pearly pink ottoman and gazing miserably into the seashell-framed mirror opposite her.

  “What’s going on?” Avery put her hands on her hips and glared down at her tiny sister.

  “Nothing. I think I need to lie down, though. I’m definitely still not over my bug.” Baby nodded, as if trying to convince herself. “Can you tell them that I’m so happy they’re happy, and that I’ll talk to them later? I’ll even do whatever tropical fun activity Mom wants,” Baby said breathlessly. She smiled, but Avery could tell something was off about Baby. And it probably wasn’t food poisoning. Baby never got sick, even when she ate hot dogs from street cart vendors.

  The bathroom door burst open. An elderly lady carrying two small King Charles spaniels under each arm glared at them in disapproval.

  “Are you done gossiping in here?” she asked. “Because they need some privacy,” she said, glancing down at the dogs.

  Avery smiled, knowing that was totally the type of random thing Baby would love. But Baby didn’t catch her eye.

  “Sorry, ma’am!” Baby said, and quickly ran out of the bathroom.

  Avery sighed and washed her hands under the cool water of the sink. If a vacation was supposed to be relaxing, why was everyone acting so uptight?

  Back in the dining room, the table was covered with cerulean blue platters piled high with different types of fish. Remington was already digging into his meal, lustily sucking out a lobster claw and wearing a blue bib around his neck.

  “You’re back!” he called, cheerily waving the lobster claw in greeting.

  “Where’s Baby?” Edie asked, a hint of worry entering her usually breathy tone.

  “Still not feeling well.” Avery shrugged. “She went to take a nap.”

  Layla pushed her salad around her plate. “I think it was the combo of fried food and beers last night.” Layla wrinkled her nose.

  “Stop that talk!” Edie said, waving her hand as if to dismiss the notion entirely. “It’s not your fault at all. I know she thinks the world of you.” Edie grinned at Layla fondly.

  “She’s a good kid, that one. And so are you, Avery,” Remington said magnanimously as he took a bite of his lobster. “You know, I know I’ve only known you and Baby for a bit, but I like to think of you girls as my daughters,” he said. “And I know it’s a process, and I’m certainly not going to come in and uproot your lives. I like all of you just the way you are.”

  Thank you, Mr. Rogers.

  “You know what?” Edie interrupted, setting her knife and fork down with a loud clatter. “I don’t want to spend the next few months talking about the process of becoming a family. Remington, let’s just get married now. Here, at the resort. Carpe diem!” She was practically shouting. The hum of the room quieted, so all that could be heard was Edie and the whir of the fans above them. Even the bartenders had stopped making drinks and were standing, shakers in midair.

  Avery dropped her fork and Remington turned to her with a bemused smile on his face. One of the tuxedoed servers picked it up off the floor and discreetly tucked it away.

  Avery caught Layla’s eye. She had the same what the fuck? expression Avery was sure was on her own face. Married? Now? How? There was no dress, no flowers, no time!

  “Spontaneity. This is why I love this woman! Edie, you are absolutely right, this is the perfect place and time to get married. Let’s do it, babe.” Remington leaned across the table and kissed Edie. The entire restaurant, not knowing what else to do, broke into spontaneous applause. A parade of waiters came out with two bottles of champagne and proceeded to pour glasses for everyone at the table. Even Remington’s chef friend had a tear in his eye.

  Only because they upstaged his Michelin-starred cuisine.

  “You can’t get married!” Avery began. Layla shot her a sympathetic glance. “No, I mean, I want you guys to get married if you want to, but you need time! You can’t just do these things,” Avery said bossily. A wedding should be at St. Patrick’s Cathedral with a reception at the Plaza or the Waldorf or at least a classy sit-down dinner at the Four Seasons.

  “Nonsense.” Edie shook her head, clearly amused by her daughter. “I’m not some twenty-six-year-old. I don’t want a lot of guests—I just want my family. Oooh, maybe we could get those steel-drum players. Do you think they do Peter, Paul, and Mary?”

  Avery couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had her mother lost her mind? A steel-drum Peter, Paul, and Mary cover band? If her mom was so hell-bent on doing this, she needed serious help.

  Remington chuckled. “This is the reason I love your mother,” he said confidentially to Avery. “I agree with her. Besides, I’ve never liked weddings in New York. Remington Wallis, whose previous marriage ended in divorce . ..” he began, imitating the way the New York Times wrote its wedding coverage. “Nope. We can fly in some of the art folk, but that’s about it,” Remington said, warming up to the idea.

  “I have a white sarong and Baby could take photos, and of course, Riley and Layla could sing,” Edie mused. “Like what was the one we listened to at the Grateful Dead concert? The one where you wouldn’t smoke pot, but you bought ice cream for everyone afterward? I think that was when we were sophomores. It was when we drove up to Ver
mont in that old Cougar?” Edie’s eyes misted over at the memory.

  “Mom,” Avery said firmly. Edie looked up expectantly from her bite of snapper, as if surprised Avery was still stuck on the topic. “Please let me help you? You need a dress. And flowers. And I’ll plan the meal, and I’ll make it nice. Not over-the-top,” she added.

  “But this is our vacation, darling. I don’t want any fuss.” Edie knit her brows together in consternation.

  “It’s no trouble. It’ll be fun.”

  “You know, if she wants to, let her do it. She’s got a great eye.” Remington winked at her. “And while she does that, don’t you think I should go talk to Owen?” Remington asked, his voice laced with concern.

  “Of course.” Edie grinned. “I think it’d be great if you two got to know each other a bit more.”

  Avery smiled shyly at her new family. Okay, so it was weird and random, but, honestly, her mom was weird and random. And, no matter what, she was going to make this work.

  In between make-out sessions with Rhys, of course.

  fancy meeting you here

  Saturday afternoon, Jack relaxed on her chaise longue on the stretch of beach behind the villas. Avery was having lunch at the resort’s restaurant with her mom and sister, and Jack had politely declined, not wanting to intrude on the family affair.

  Avery had disappeared all afternoon yesterday, taking a ridiculously long nap, but last night she and Jack had had fun, going out to dinner at the hotel and then getting drinks at the hotel bar while silver-haired businessmen attempted to talk them up. Jack had spent the whole evening hoping Owen might show up, but he must have been off on his bachelor evening with Rhys and Riley… or he was holed up in his skank girlfriend’s room.

  Jack flipped over onto her back. She definitely hadn’t planned on spending this vacation alone, but at the same time, the quiet was sort of nice. The sun was high above the ocean, casting a goldfish-colored haze on the water.

  Back in New York, she and J.P. used to watch the sun rise a lot. Whenever she’d crashed at his apartment after a party, when she didn’t feel like dealing with her annoying mom, he’d poke her awake at 5 a.m. and drag her up to his private terrace. She wasn’t much of a morning person, so he’d always have a latte with extra sugar—her favorite. He’d been the type of guy who could still be friendly and happy after only four hours of sleep. In a lot of ways, he was perfect.

  Jack sighed, imagining what things would be like when she got back to the city in a few days. J.P. had been disappointed when she’d let him know about her plans to go to the Bahamas, but of course he understood. He always did. That was the problem: Everything between them was so predictable. It was as if she could already see the path her life would take. She’d become a professional dancer while juggling classes at Columbia, while J.P. would go to Yale and come visit her on the weekends. Then they’d get married at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, have a lavish reception at the Waldorf, then settle into the Cashman Complexes in Tribeca. Once her dance career was over, they’d move to one of the more family-friendly Cashman properties on the Upper East Side. J.P. would work for his dad, she’d chair benefits for the New York City Ballet and monitor the activities of their three kids, who would be spaced apart by two and a half years. And so on.

  Before, this vision of her life had cheered her. But now it just felt boring, staid, predictable. Suffocating, even.

  Jack didn’t want to think about it anymore. She leaned back on the chair, closed her eyes, and yanked her Gucci aviators down. The sound of the ocean and the warm sun caused her to fall asleep almost instantly.

  “Hey!”

  Jack blinked open her eyes and found Owen staring down at her. Immediately she sat up, hoping she hadn’t done anything embarrassing like drool all over herself. Owen was shirtless, and sweat glistened on his bronzed chest. But instead of grossing her out, it was kind of sexy, like he’d stepped out of a GQ spread.

  Or out of her dreams.

  “Hey,” Owen said gently. “You shouldn’t just fall asleep on the beach. It’s not safe.” He gingerly perched on the edge of the deck chair. He knew Jack had gotten here yesterday, but this was the first time he’d actually laid eyes on her. She looked sleepy and wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her bikini top was ever so slightly askew, exposing a half-inch more chest than was strictly decent. All in all, Jack looked totally bed-head hot. Owen couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to her.

  “I know. I just closed my eyes and I must have fallen asleep.” Jack hiked up her green Eres bikini to make sure she wasn’t flashing him. She glanced again at his sweaty chest. “You’re really into working out, huh?” she asked. J.P. played squash and golf, and rowed crew, but he always seemed to do it with a sense of obligation. Owen just seemed to be a more physical person.

  “Not always.” Owen shrugged. “I like running when I need to think, though.”

  “Is everything okay?” Jack asked, looking concerned. Owen gazed at her flawless face. Her green eyes almost matched her green bikini and sarong. It tied at the hip, and Owen struggled to push aside dirty thoughts about undoing the knot.

  “No, I mean, I just have a lot on my mind,” Owen explained. Ever since he’d realized yesterday that he’d never had real feelings for Kelsey, his head had been spinning. Was he a player? Did he really just see girls as sex? And was he ever going to be in a real relationship? His mom announcing her engagement to Remington had been messing with his head. After all, Edie had always been single—how did she just know Remington was the one? And how much did she really know about him? Owen was used to being overprotective of his sisters, but he was also protective of his mom. He didn’t want her to get hurt. “I feel like back home there’s so much going on. It’s hard to think in New York, you know. How do you do it?” Owen finished lamely, settling down into the chaise next to Jack. He probably sounded like a complete lunatic.

  But she didn’t seem to think that was a crazy question at all. “Think in the city? You get used to it. I don’t know. I guess you just have to find people you can talk things out to and go from there.” She shrugged and gazed out at the water.

  “I’m trying to make sure my buddy Rhys is having a good time,” Owen finally said. That wasn’t really the whole truth, but it was a good start.

  “You shouldn’t be so concerned about other people. It only fucks you up. Starting with this trip, I’ve decided I’m only going to do what makes me happy for the rest of the year,” Jack said definitively. “What makes you happy?

  Owen considered. Swimming made him happy. So did kissing, Pop-Tarts, a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from the deli down the street, and summer thunderstorms. But all of that sounded sort of dumb.

  “I guess life makes me happy,” he said finally.

  Deep.

  Jack cracked a smile. “Life?” she asked skeptically.

  “What about you?” Owen asked. He really did want to know. He knew she was a dancer and her mom was French, but other than that, he really didn’t know much about Jack.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed, sounding so world-weary that Owen was taken aback. “Ballet for sure. Summer, parks, traveling, Paris… It’s like I don’t know when I’m happy until I look back on it afterward.”

  Owen nodded. He knew what she meant. Back in Nantucket, he’d breezed through life, winning swim meets, getting all the girls, and not really thinking about any of it. It was only after he got to New York, and saw how complicated life could be, that he realized how good he’d had it. Not that he wanted to go back to the way things had been before. Nantucket had been great, sure, and he definitely missed his island home from time to time. But to return there would somehow feel like backtracking. He’d been through a lot of friend and romantic drama since they’d moved, but he was none the worse for wear. And things were certainly looking pretty good right now.

  “What was the best day of your life?” Owen asked randomly. He leaned down and drew a smiley face in the sand with his
finger, then brushed it away. It was kind of nice to just talk to a girl. That was the thing. Whenever he’d begin to get close to a girl, he’d become frustrated when he tried to talk about real things besides clothes and parties with her. Like Kelsey. She’d been super-artistic, and Owen had wanted to hear what inspired her. Instead, she’d always giggle and initiate a make-out session, as if the only thing that mattered between them was sex. But Jack seemed… different.

  “I don’t know.” A smile played on Jack’s lips. “Maybe it’ll be today.”

  “Yeah?” Owen arched a blond eyebrow.

  “Maybe.” Jack shrugged. Looking into Owen’s bright blue eyes, a lot of things suddenly seemed possible. He wasn’t so set in his ways, like so many guys back in New York. She tried imagining a future with Owen. Maybe they wouldn’t go to college. Maybe they’d backpack through India, or maybe they’d sail around the world. The possibilities seemed as endless as the ocean stretching before them.

  “You want to go swimming?” Jack asked, untying the sea green pareo at her hip. She bit her coral-colored lip, as if waiting for an answer.

  Owen found himself distracted by the curve of Jack’s lips. Calm the fuck down, Carlyle. Owen reminded himself that Jack had a boyfriend. And while he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting to hook up with Kelsey while she was in a relationship—the thrill of secrecy, and all that—look at where it had gotten him. He’d already been down that road before. He needed something simple and no-drama. Like Elsie, maybe. She’d been calling him all day. Maybe he should call her back.

  “You coming?” Jack asked, already skipping into the water, playing in the waves. She looked graceful, with her dancer’s legs.

  Yeah, Owen decided, getting up and following her. He’d call Elsie back.