Love the One You're With
“That’s great, sir,” Owen said gruffly. He couldn’t believe he’d left the hot tub with a bikini-clad Jack to talk about Hemingway.
“Here you go.” Remington passed him a pre-baited rod and reel and settled back on the cushioned bench. “I used to always want to be a writer. Or an artist. That’s what I really love about your mom. She just goes after what she wants.”
“Um,” Owen grunted. The line on his fishing rod tightened. Maybe he’d catch a shark and it would eat Remington. His family had been fine on its own for sixteen years. He’d been fine—more than fine—with just his mom and his sisters. And now this guy was going to come in and give him some life lecture?
“You know, I thought I’d missed my chance at happiness. I met your mom when we were so young, and she was so vibrant, so alive. I was terrified of her, mainly because I knew she wouldn’t put up with the money-is-power bullshit I was feeding myself. So I married Layla’s mom, Alison. She loved money.” Remington shrugged, his blue eyes gazing out at the water. “The problem was, she didn’t love me.”
“Sorry about that.” Owen took a long drag of his beer. He’d never really been into smoking pot before, but suddenly, he really wished he was stoned. He had a feeling this conversation would be much more tolerable with a huge joint.
“So we got divorced. And I dated a lot. And I’m telling you, man to man, I loved it. Hated my job, but loved the way women loved me.” He jiggled his fishing line into the water. Suddenly, it jumped. “Aw yeah!” Remington yelled, and Owen could just imagine him scoring a touchdown in college. He quickly reeled the fish in. An ugly, brownish fish with steely-gray eyes flopped helplessly at the other end of the line.
“Dogfish.” Remington shook his head ruefully. “These little fuckers latch onto anything put in front of them, especially if it’s shiny. Can you hand me those gloves under the bench?”
Owen stood up and opened the top of the pine bench. He rummaged through until he found a pair of pine green rubber gloves.
“And, not only that, but their back fins can give you a gnarly rash if you’re not careful,” Remington explained as he carefully unhooked the fish and threw it back into the water. Owen could just make out its body quickly wriggling away under the surface.
“Anyway, what was I saying?” Remington asked, leaning back and taking a large sip of the rum punch that one of the boat’s mates had brought up to him.
“Dogfish are poisonous and like shiny objects,” Owen repeated. He knew he sounded like an asshole.
“Yes, exactly!” Remington said, as if proving a point. “And that was how it was with the women I was dating. They looked like they were catches, but they weren’t. And then I realized, I didn’t want to catch dogfish. I wanted to wait. Maybe that’s why I gave up fishing,” Remington mused. “Anyway, you’ve heard enough of this old guy’s story. What about you? What are you fishing for in your life?”
Owen paused. In a totally wacked way, Remington’s fish metaphor sort of reminded him of his own life. He was tired of hooking up with girls, then just moving on to the next. But Jack was different. He didn’t know what she was thinking or what she wanted or if she even liked him. “I guess I’m still learning to identify the dogfish.” Owen cracked a smile. Maybe it was the sun and the beers, but suddenly, shooting the shit with Remington didn’t seem so bad.
Just then, Owen felt a strong tug on his reel. Remington stood up, throwing his own reel on the deck. “Okay, just pull in. I can steady you,” he said as Owen struggled to control the suddenly heavy rod. Using all of his arm muscles, he attempted to twist the reel back as Remington held on to his elbow.
There, at the other end of his line, was a three-foot-long, pointy-nosed, gray-and-white fish.
“You caught a marlin!” Remington said, clearly impressed.
Owen grinned. That was pretty cool. Maybe this whole deep-sea fishing adventure wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. Maybe Remington wasn’t so bad either.
Remington set to work taking the fish off the line. “That’s what we all wait for. Our marlins. And you immediately know when you’ve caught one. And if you know what’s good for you, you don’t let it go,” he said sagely.
Owen nodded. He wasn’t sure if Remington was talking about girls or fish anymore, but it didn’t matter. It was so clear now: Jack was a marlin. She was feisty and exotic and hard to keep up with.
And he’s obviously fallen hook, line, and sinker.
“Tell you what,” Remington said as a crewmember came over to take the fish. “I’ve already had a big wedding. I want this to be about our new family coming together. Invite a couple friends from New York. My G5’s at Teterboro; they can be here tomorrow morning, and I’d love to meet your buddies”
“Really?” Owen grinned and took another gulp of his beer. Inviting all his friends down to the Bahamas was a pretty cool idea.
As long as he delivers a Hurricane Hugh warning to those who may need it…
a’s certainly not getting married today
The walls of the Landing, the smallest and coziest of the resort’s four restaurants, were covered in gauzy white material, making it feel like everyone was having dinner in a private tent. As soon as Chef Jean Luc had learned that Remington was getting married, he’d insisted on closing the Landing and catering a private rehearsal dinner for the family. Between his food and Yvette’s exacting eye, they’d created an ultra-romantic evening.
Avery smiled in satisfaction as she drained her third glass of Veuve. She felt ridiculously happy sitting next to Rhys, her tan, bare shoulder just touching his Hugo Boss–suited one. Above her, she could just make out stars in the clear night sky through the gaps in the palapa-thatched roof.
At the head of the table, Remington and Edie were feeding bites of chocolate soufflé to each other. A steel-drum band played in the corner, making it almost impossible to hear anything. The long, rectangular table was dotted at intervals with orchid-filled Lalique vases, obstructing the view of the other side of the table.
Because of that, or because of the champagne, Avery turned and boldly brushed her lips against Rhys’s cheek. So what if Owen saw. What could he do?
“Are you sure? People can see us,” Rhys whispered, squeezing Avery’s hand tightly under the table.
Rhys’s cell beeped loudly, just as the steel-drum band was finishing a reggae version of “Over the Rainbow.” He quickly dug into his pocket. Just to be an asshole, Owen had changed his ringtone, so the song “Big Pimpin’” came on whenever he got a text from Hugh.
“That’s a nice song!” Edie said, bopping her head to the ringtone, completely oblivious to the lyrics. Remington smiled fondly at his fiancé.
“Sorry, it’s my phone,” Rhys admitted, quickly snapping it to silent.
“So, do you think we should do performances tonight? Or tomorrow?” Edie said to the group.
Avery glanced up in horror. Her mom had this thing about making the guests at any of her parties do a performance after dinner, citing it as a Native American ritual. When she and Baby had been younger, they’d had to sing songs or recite poems together. Now she was really hoping they wouldn’t have to participate.
Besides, she’s already given her high-maintenance-bride performance today….
“I think tomorrow might be better. During the reception,” Avery murmured, making a mental note to speak to Yvette and make sure performances didn’t happen.
“Good idea!” Edie nodded thoughtfully. “That way, all your friends will be here!” Edie clapped eagerly, then resumed feeding Remington bites of soufflé from her plate.
Avery shuddered. Remington had gotten the idea to fly some of their friends down tomorrow in his Gulfstream. She wasn’t sure how many people were actually going to show up, but she’d invited Jiffy and Genevieve, and Rhys and Owen had invited some of the swim team guys. She certainly didn’t want everyone to get an eyeful of weird performance art. But she was looking forward to showing off being a couple with Rhys.
&
nbsp; A performance in its own right.
Avery lightly caressed Rhys’s leg under the table. All her life, she had wanted just one thing: to find love. But even for all her dreaming, wishing, and hoping, she’d had no idea how good it could really be. Yesterday, Rhys had sent her cute messages first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He squeezed her hand or caressed her face at every opportunity—any sweet gesture to let her know he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. And best of all were the times where they really could be together. He had sneaked into her room for a quick kiss before dinner, and her lips were still tingling from touching his. She couldn’t wait to just tell Owen and make their relationship public, so that she could kiss him whenever she liked.
Rhys’s phone beeped again, and he hastily pressed silent on his phone. In his excitement over coming to the Bahamas tomorrow, Hugh had outdone himself with texts. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen when Hugh showed up in person.
“Dude, it’s Rhys’s mom,” Owen teased, drunkenly holding up his champagne flute in a mock toast. He’d been in better spirits ever since his boat ride with Remington, and had been drinking and toasting their nuptials all night long.
“Oh, how sweet!” Edie cooed, clearly thrilled at the concept of Rhys being so close with his mom.
“I need to see what Lady Sterling says!” Avery said, grabbing Rhys’s phone and flipping it open. She loved that one of the privileges of having a boyfriend was having carte blanche to their texts.
When I see you tomorrow, I expect a full report on your sexcapades. Not getting some is not an option.
Avery couldn’t bring herself to read the rest of the text. She closed the phone, her heart dropping like it was in free fall. Was that what all this was about? Did Rhys just want to get laid?
Avery’s head spun as she mentally reviewed the last few days, suddenly seeing everything in a new light. Rhys had flirted with her from the start, but when they hadn’t so much as kissed, he’d gone to those pool skanks instead. She and Rhys had made out a few times—but clearly he wanted more. His provocative texts from the last few days didn’t seem so sweet anymore. Even the way he had apologized to her the other day, telling her about his dream, seemed cheap now. He hadn’t dreamed about them holding hands, skipping down the beach. He’d dreamed about them hooking up. Avery felt incredibly used. She’d been played.
Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
“What the hell?” Her voice was icy and shaky, and she knew any second she’d burst into tears. She thrust the phone toward him. “That’s what you’re trying to do? I thought you were different.” Avery stood up at the table, rage coursing through her veins.
“Oh dear,” Edie murmured. She’d always ascribed to the hands-off parenting theory that it was better to let your kids work out their own problems and only offer input when they asked you. “Remington, we have a big day tomorrow, so let’s retire to our villa. We should let the kids enjoy without us oldsters hanging around!” she announced, dragging Remington—who was still holding his plate of soufflé—after her.
“Avery, I need to explain. It’s Hugh, it’s the swim team, it’s this—” Rhys went to grab her hand, but she shook him away. She pushed her chair back, ready to storm out.
“Avery?” Jack asked questioningly, standing as if ready to follow her out.
Avery ignored Rhys, turning toward Jack. Of course, Jack had nothing to do with this. But Rhys wasn’t the only one who’d been a colossal jackass on this vacation, and Avery had had enough. “You’re just like him,” she spat, watching as Jack’s green eyes went wide with shock. “A total fucking user, and a liar. You tell me you’re here because you missed me, but really you just want my brother. And who knows what you’ve told him. You have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” Registering the shock on everyone’s faces, Avery knew she’d done enough. “Just—everyone—leave me alone.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the restaurant with her head held high.
Baby scraped her chair back, then paused. After all, wasn’t she also lying and using the people around her? She hadn’t spoken to Riley at all today, even though he was sitting just two seats down from her at the table. Yesterday, he’d made her feel on top of the world. Today, what they’d done had made her feel… confused. She still liked him, but she liked Layla. And Layla was her almost-sister. She pulled her chair back toward the table.
Rhys stood up, ready to run after her, ready to make her believe that the text wasn’t what it sounded like. Because he knew how very bad it sounded.
“Don’t even think about it,” Owen hissed, practically pushing Rhys back onto the wicker chair. He couldn’t believe his best friend had been hooking up with his sister behind his back. The fact that Rhys had lied to him about “not being over Kelsey” was just icing on the fucked-up cake. “You’ve done more than enough,” he spat. Owen quickly ran outside to the marble patio, chasing after Avery.
Rhys sat back in his chair, watching helplessly as his best friend and his almost-girlfriend ran away. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked things up with them both in one fell swoop.
Jack watched them go, too, feeling exactly the same way.
Misery loves company….
tortured romance isn’t as fun as it seems
“Yikes,” Layla murmured, after Jack and Rhys had excused themselves, both looking shell-shocked. Only Layla, Baby, and Riley remained at the table.
“I hope they work it out before the wedding,” Riley added unhelpfully.
“Yeah,” Baby murmured, not really listening. She topped off her champagne. Baby didn’t usually drink, but she couldn’t deal with herself right now. She was terrible at not showing her emotions, so she’d avoided being in the same room as Layla as much as she could since their dinner last night. Luckily Layla seemed to have attributed Baby’s odd behavior to having mixed feelings about the wedding, like Owen, who had thrown tantrums the whole trip before finally seeming to come around.
Baby took a long swig of her champagne, enjoying the hazy, floaty feeling as the bubbles coursed down her throat. She closed her eyes and wished that when she opened them, she’d be alone with Riley, in some fantasy land where his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend wasn’t becoming part of her immediate family tomorrow.
“Well, isn’t there a saying, like, bad rehearsal dinner, good wedding?” Layla shrugged her shoulders as she glanced between Riley and Baby. “I mean, at least it’s not your mom and my dad fighting!”
“True,” Baby allowed. She was happy for her mom, and definitely didn’t want anything to go wrong with the wedding tomorrow. But she couldn’t help but think that if Remington were out of the picture, Layla would be too. “Baby, would you be okay if Riley and I go work on the music for our set?” Layla asked. She adjusted the sleeve of her blue American Apparel tunic dress and her tribal tattoo came into view. “I swear, this guy’s been avoiding me”—she punched Riley playfully in the arm—“and we haven’t worked out which songs we’re going to do yet.”
“Yeah, let’s go work on the set, but let’s wrap up early….” Riley shot Baby a meaningful look. “I want to get a good night’s sleep.” Even though he was speaking to Layla, he didn’t break eye contact with Baby the entire time.
Baby felt her stomach twist. He was inviting her over to his room later. And while there were a million reasons why it was wrong, just one glance at Riley’s lopsided smile reminded Baby how right they’d been yesterday. Maybe they could hook up and then Layla would break up with him and she’d never have to know. After all, they were practically broken up. Layla had said as much yesterday. And after tomorrow, Riley would go back to Ithaca, and Baby wasn’t sure when she’d get to see him again. It was just so confusing. She took another long sip of her champagne.
At least she’s not confused about her feelings on drinking.
“You’re okay, right?” Layla seemed hesitant to leave Baby alone, after the evening they’d all had.
“Yeah, I’m going to turn in early too,
” Baby said, speaking in code. She glanced away from Layla. After all, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. After all, Riley wasn’t hiding anything. He was sweet and sincere and didn’t want to hurt his girlfriend. It was understandable. If she’d been a student at Ithaca and had met Riley in the dining hall or philosophy class or at some coffee shop in town and he’d given her the same explanation about his and Layla’s relationship, she wouldn’t have thought twice about hooking up with him.
Toto, we’re not in Ithaca anymore….
“You ready, Layla?” Not waiting for an answer, Riley stood up and walked out. But not before giving Baby a parting wink.
Even though his back was already turned, she couldn’t help but wink back.
An hour later, Baby made her way back to the villas. She’d sat at the restaurant for a while alone, sipping champagne, listening to the steel-drum band, and sort of enjoying the feeling of being in such a complicated romance. At least, it had seemed hazily romantic, after she’d polished off all the champagne left at the table.
She crossed the villa’s shared deck and made her way to the sliding door of the guys’ villa, pushing it open gently. Baby tiptoed inside the room. The lights were off—Riley had probably kept them low so that if the boys came home, they’d think he was sleeping. She padded silently through the living room and gingerly opened the bedroom door. She could just make a figure curled up in bed. She moved toward Riley, when the figure moved and she saw that it was not one body but two. They were entangled, a bundle of writhing limbs. Through the sliver of the moonlight coming through the window, she could just make out a very feminine arm.
One with a tribal tattoo.
Baby turned and darted from the room, careful not to make a sound. She ran over to the deck outside the girls’ villa and threw herself down onto one of the chaises. She felt like she was going to be sick and closed her eyes, hoping that the world would stop spinning.