Later.
a plans it out
Avery marched authoritatively through the lobby of the hotel that afternoon, not even noticing the parrot that practically flew into her dress. She couldn’t believe her mother was getting married tomorrow. There was so much work to be done! She had to find appropriate clothing for her and the girls, make sure the guys had suits, had to find music that wasn’t too hippietastic, find a party planner… and then there was the food, the champagne, the officiant… Avery felt dizzy just thinking about it as she marched toward the front desk.
“I’m planning a wedding and I need to speak to a wedding planner immediately,” Avery announced to the pretty woman behind the reception desk.
“Congratulations!” The receptionist’s expression changed from pleasant to surprised as she gave Avery a once-over. “You’re going to need to speak to Yvette. She does all our bookings. Now, she has some availability tomorrow…”
“The wedding’s tomorrow!” Avery screeched. “I mean, is there any way to speak to her today? It’s a small wedding,” she pleaded.
The woman appraised Avery, seeming to sense she was the type of girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Well, if it’s an emergency… I’ll just be a second,” she said to the man sitting at the computer next to her. “Come with me, darling. No tears, we’ll make this a dream wedding.” She squeezed Avery’s upper arm reassuringly. Avery nodded. Why had she even gotten herself into this? She could be on the beach with Jack or Rhys, her new boyfriend. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought about him.
She was escorted into a glass-enclosed office that reminded Avery of the offices at Metropolitan, the magazine where she’d interned. A harried-looking woman was barking into her cell phone. She had honey-colored hair, red cat’s-eye glasses, and obvious Botox. Despite the heat, she was wearing a black St. John’s suit.
“Well, I don’t care if Rihanna doesn’t do private parties. My clients want her to perform. It’s the goddamn most important day of their lives, they don’t really care about the money. Just tell her to make it work.” She slammed down the phone and glanced curiously at Avery.
“She has a rush wedding,” the receptionist explained, then scampered out, clearly terrified of Yvette.
“Tomorrow,” Avery clarified, looking around the windowless office. A plate of multicolored macaroons sat on Yvette’s desk, the only color in the sea of blacks and steel grays. It didn’t look very celebratory.
“You young girls getting married.” Yvette shook her head. “Well, we do charge additional for a rush ceremony, but stick with me, kid. I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams. And you’re in luck, because we just had a cancellation. Goddamn prick was cheating on her with her tennis instructor. Her male tennis instructor,” the woman clucked. “You play tennis?”
“Um, no.” Avery shuffled from one pink Miu Miu pump to the other. “I’m actually not getting married. It’s my mother,” she clarified.
“Oh.” For a brief moment, Yvette looked disappointed. “Well, okay. So, religious?”
“No,” Avery said quickly. Edie had gone through a pagan phase where she’d thrown parties and praised various earth goddesses, but thankfully, that was in the past.
“Number of guests?”
“Um, thirty?” Avery said, rounding up since she knew her mom’s penchant for inviting random people to parties. “And we’re staying over at the villas, so I was thinking we could do everything there. Maybe the reception by the pool? And I’d really like a lot of whites and candlelight. I want it to be low-key but romantic. I want it to be like a dream version of a desert island. But not cheesy. Orchids, not roses. And no crappy DJ. A jazz band, maybe.” Avery nodded. Now that she thought about it, an island wedding was romantic. She imagined Rhys in an off-white suit and her wearing a mermaid-cut white dress, standing barefoot on the beach. Actually, not barefoot, she’d wear an adorable pair of Christian Louboutin slingbacks so Rhys would pick her up and carry her…
“Done!” Yvette was typing some things in the computer, yanking Avery back to reality—she wasn’t planning her wedding, she was planning her mother’s wedding.
“Honey, relax. I’m the professional. I’ll give your mom the wedding she wants. Now, for payment…” Yvette trailed off. Avery fished in her voluminous straw Marc Jacobs bag and threw down her black AmEx card. Yvette grinned like a three-year-old on Christmas morning. “Terrific. So, you trust my judgment?”
Avery nodded. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. “What about dresses?”
“I’m calling Jasmin and having her close down the store for you. It’s a big time in your family’s life. Enjoy it,” Yvette said, noting Avery’s skeptical expression.
Ten minutes later, Avery was standing on a pedestal in the rear of the resort boutique. She’d ignored the store every time she’d walked past, sure it was full of resort clothes for middle-aged women. But it was actually sort of cool, and she loved having the whole place to herself. She sipped from a glass of champagne and glanced at the side table next to her that was covered with a fruit and cheese plate and a platter of crudités. It’d have been more fun if anyone was here to help her—she’d texted Jack, but with no response; she didn’t have Layla’s number; and when she’d called she’d gotten Baby’s voice mail. Not that Baby had any interest in wedding planning. Still, there were worse ways to spend a few hours than being fawned over by an adoring salesperson.
She should tell that to her sister.
“You make the perfect bride,” Jasmin, the pretty, tiny salesperson murmured.
Avery turned in the three-way mirror and examined her butt in the purple silk Chloé dress she was trying on. “I think I mentioned, it’s my mom who’s getting married?”
“Forgive me!” Jasmin’s dark brown eyes widened. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful in that. You would make a perfect bride.”
“Thanks,” Avery said. The dress was pretty, but it was impossible to know if it was the right maid of honor dress to wear for her mom’s wedding. She really wanted Jack’s opinion, and wished her friend would pick up the phone. Of course, she could call Rhys, who would only be too happy to come. Since yesterday, they’d been texting nonstop. Last night, at the hotel bar with Jack, Avery had blushed and tried not to giggle as he sent her flirty text after flirty text. As the night wore on, their flirt-texting became a little more… intense. Make that sexual. Which got Avery excited, but also made her a little nervous. She’d never done it before, because she’d never met the right person. Rhys had had a girlfriend for years, so surely he had more experience. Avery wasn’t worried, though. Rhys was a total gentleman. Sex was the last thing on his mind.
She took out her phone to invite him over here, but hesitated. She sort of wanted her dress to be a surprise. Wasn’t it bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding?
Ahem, bride and groom?
“I guess I’ll take it. Actually, three of them. Two in this size,” Avery decided, guessing that, even though her chest was slightly bigger and her waist was a little bit smaller, she and Layla were roughly the same size. “And one in a zero.” Baby.
“Okay.” Jasmin nodded. “And the wedding dress? We have one Ralph Lauren Collection piece that I think might be perfect.” She led Avery to a gorgeous, flowing silk georgette dress. It wasn’t a wedding dress; instead it was a knee-length cocktail dress one might wear to an elegant outdoor party. Avery fingered the slightly sheer, whisper-soft ivory material. It was perfect for her mom.
“That too.”
“Great. I’ll do the alterations tonight, once your mom can come in. Do you think she’ll be able to make it here soon?”
“Yes,” Avery said. They only had a matter of hours, but she’d just have to drag her mom to the boutique. Edie would have to tear herself away from island basket weaving, or whatever she was doing.
“Perfect.” Jasmin smiled and clapped her hands. “You can really tell you’re surrounded by love. You’re even better than
working with a bride.”
Avery blushed. “Thanks!” She pushed the glass door of the boutique open and practically ran up the hill toward the villa complex. She needed to call Yvette to confirm all the details, plus she wanted to squeeze in a quick manicure, too.
“Hello?” Avery called as she yanked the door of the villa open a few hours later, dresses in hand. The villa was a total mess, with clothing and bikini tops scattered in a path toward the sliding patio door. After her whirlwind afternoon, during which she’d dragged her mom to the boutique for her alterations and basically gotten the entire wedding in place, she wanted a shower and a nap to rest up before the rehearsal dinner tonight—which, of course, she’d also organized. “Guys?” she called again.
“Outside!” Avery heard Owen’s muffled voice through the paned glass. She could just make out two figures sitting in the hot tub, their heads tilted close to one another.
Avery made her way outside. Owen was lazing around in the hot tub, glasses of what looked like homemade dark and stormies scattered around its edge. And with him was… Jack? They were sitting close beside each other, looking awfully cozy.
Suddenly, Jack’s words when she first arrived repeated on loop in Avery’s head: “I missed you so much! New York was so boring without you!” Avery narrowed her eyes. So Jack got bored in the city, and decided to come to the Bahamas to flirt with her brother? All the while lying to Avery and playing the friendship card? So not cool.
“Where have you been?” Owen asked, cocking his glass tumbler toward her. “Come hang out!”
“Um, getting ready for our mother’s wedding. Why didn’t you guys answer your phones?” Avery asked hotly. She felt like stomping her foot and having a temper tantrum. Until she saw Owen’s face, totally drained of color.
“Wedding?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yeah, tomorrow. They decided at lunch today. She didn’t tell you guys?” Avery shook her head in disbelief. What the hell was her mother doing? Edie Carlyle had always been flighty, but failing to mention her rapidly impending wedding seemed a little extreme, even for her.
“What the fuck?” Owen stepped out of the hot tub, sloshing water all over the sandstone patio.
“Well, you should have answered your phone. Or looked at your texts,” Avery retorted, briefly losing patience. She knew Owen was having some issues with Remington, but she really didn’t want to play family therapist. There was too much real work to be done.
“Sorry, Avery. We were hanging out in the hot tub, so we didn’t have our phones.” Jack clambered out of the hot tub too, looking perfect and taut in a green Eres bikini that matched her eyes. “But that’s great, right?”
“Yeah, great,” Avery said, stalking back into the hotel room. Her mother was getting married in less than twenty-four hours, her brother was having some freaky Oedipal crisis, and her best friend was obviously only here to hook up with her brother. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Avery walked back into the villa, feeling deflated. The dresses were hanging on a clothing rack in the center of the room, making it look like a boutique outpost. She took one of the white garment bags and brought it over to the closet.
“Is that what you’re going to wear? Can I see?” Jack asked as she entered the room. She was re-tying her bathing suit top around her neck, and Avery really hoped she hadn’t been topless in the hot tub.
“No,” Avery said shortly. Why did Jack always make everything about her? “I mean, you’re all wet. I don’t want the fabric to stain,” she lied.
“Sorry!” Jack skulked over to the couch, leaving a trail of water in her wake. “And I’m really sorry I didn’t answer your texts. Obviously, I would have if I hadn’t been—”
“Flirting with my brother?” Avery asked, whirling around to face Jack. It was annoying that Jack was going after Owen. But that wasn’t even the problem. It was the fact that Jack a) had a boyfriend, and b) had lied to Avery about why she came down from New York. “Tell me honestly: Is that why you came here? For him, not me?”
“I came here because…” Jack trailed off. Why had she come here? It was true that she wanted Owen; with every minute they spent together, she became more and more sure that there was really something there. But that wasn’t the only reason, and it certainly wasn’t one she was going to share with Avery, when her friend was clearly in a mood. “My friends were being annoying, the stepbrats were driving me up the wall, and J.P. was being totally predictable,” Jack answered honestly. “I just needed a change of scene.”
Avery regarded her friend. Jack sat on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked very small and vulnerable. Still, Avery knew Jack was an expert in manipulation. “Is there anything I can do to help you now?” Jack asked, sounding defensive.
“No,” Avery said coldly. “I think it’s better if just family is involved.”
“Okay, call me if you need me.” Jack walked back onto the terrace, leaving Avery alone.
She felt momentarily bad, especially since Jack had such a fucked-up family of her own. But still. It was one thing to have a crush on her brother—a lot of people did. But to lie to Avery’s face about it… She seriously hoped Jack was telling her the truth.
And she seriously should know better.
the young man and the sea
“She fucking decides to marry him tomorrow? Who the fuck does that?” Owen paced back and forth through the villa, trying to make a trail through the T-shirts, empty beer bottles, and potato chip bags scattered on the floor. By the second morning, Rhys had given up cleaning the shared space. He was half-asleep on the couch right now, while Riley picked out a song on his guitar.
“Dude, that’s more notice than I had for my mom’s second marriage. She got married in Vegas to a bus driver.” Riley shrugged, his guitar slung over his chest. “Besides, Remington’s cool. At least he supports the arts.”
“Whatever.” Owen didn’t want to hear it. It was one thing for his mom to be engaged. Knowing her, she’d probably never actually get around to getting married. They still hadn’t even unpacked their NYC penthouse yet. But to get married tomorrow? And to have this former banker, this faux patron of the arts be, like, his dad?
Daddy issues rear their ugly head.
“Owen?” a male voice called from outside.
“Busy,” Owen called, glaring at Riley, who was mid-step toward answering the door.
“I come with beers!” Remington yelled through the door. Great. So now he was going to be buddy-buddy with them. He might as well just move into the guys’ villa and set up a beer-pong table while he was at it.
And that would be a bad thing?
“One second, sir!” Riley called, kicking some empty Kalik beer cans under the wicker coffee table. “What? We’re low on booze. Especially the way you’re going through it,” he remarked to Owen, sliding open the door. Remington stepped over the teenage boy debris. “I see the maid’s been here,” he cracked lamely. Owen refused to look at him.
“So, your mom is making us official,” Remington said, sitting down on the love seat and glancing around as if he expected Owen to give him a high five or something.
“It’s certainly a surprise,” Owen said stiffly, balling his hands into the pockets of his board shorts. He sort of felt like hitting Remington in his self-satisfied face.
“Congratulations, sir!” Rhys leapt up and stuck out his hand, and Riley quickly followed suit. Traitors.
“Thanks.” Remington pumped Rhys’s hand enthusiastically. “Riley, I’d be honored if you and my little girl would put together some music to set the mood. Also, I was going to take Sounder out for a spin, just for a little while before dinner tonight. I’d love it if you would join me.”
Owen frowned. Sounder? Who was that? A bimbo ex-girlfriend?
“My yacht,” Remington explained. “I keep it docked here, but I don’t use it much. Since I sold the property, I just haven’t felt the call of the ocean. What do you guys think?” he asked, looking around hopefully.
br /> “Well, I should work on a set list for the wedding,” Riley said.
“I’ve got to, um, do some stuff,” Rhys stammered. Quickly, the two guys walked outside, Riley taking the six-pack Remington had brought with him. Owen smiled tightly. Great. Now it was just the two of them.
“Look, son—I mean, Owen,” Remington said, hastily correcting himself. He sounded more nervous than Owen had ever heard him, even when he’d asked Edie to marry him. “I’m not your dad. I think you’re a great guy. Let’s just get to know each other. I do have some great Cuban cigars on board,” he offered.
Owen sighed. Any excuse was useless. Remington wasn’t going to leave him alone. “Okay,” he heard himself saying.
“Here she is,” Remington said proudly as he gestured to a thirty-foot yacht bobbing up and down on the blue sea. A driver had brought them to the other side of the island, to a small marina filled with yachts, each one larger than the last. “Named her after my first dog.” Owen furrowed his brows. His first dog? Honestly, this guy was so weird, he could kind of see why his mom liked him.
They stepped onto the deck, where a team of three skinny crewmembers wearing blue cotton shirts with Sounder embroidered on the breast in gold script eagerly greeted Remington.
“Good to be back,” Remington said with a twinkle in his eye as he led Owen to the cabin. There, he and another crewmember busied themselves with the navigational system. “There are some beers and snacks in the kitchen. Grab whatever you’d like.”
Owen poked into the kitchen, which was stocked with oysters, Osetra caviar, rum, Oregon Coast beers, and mangos. At least Remington had good taste in snacks. Owen cracked open a beer and walked unsteadily back to the cabin. Maybe he could fake seasickness.
“I love these islands,” Remington said after a moment, not seeming to care that Owen hadn’t bothered to bring him a beer. He turned and led them both to the stern of the boat and pulled out a few fishing rods from under a bench. “Hemingway did too.”