Love the One You're With (11 page)

Somehow, I don’t think she’s the type to be concerned.

“Well, then, should we get it done and dusted tonight, then?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I can’t tonight,” Owen said, remembering their family dinner. “But tomorrow for sure.”

“Brilliant!” Elsie leaned back, her possibly naked chest and who knew what else concealed underwater. “Tomorrow, then.”

Tomorrow, tomorrow—it’s only a day away!

“Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never really had a boyfriend?” Avery asked, her eyes flicking away from her
W
magazine.

Baby and Avery had spent the morning on the beach, where Baby was reading the
Bitch
magazine she’d bought and trying not to think about Riley. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night and had stayed up staring
at the ceiling, replaying their almost-kiss in her head. It was sheer torture knowing he was sleeping in the villa right next
door, but that she couldn’t go to him—not now, or ever.
It’s not right,
she told herself now, as she had a million times over the course of the last twenty-four hours. Layla seemed like a nice
person. She liked Layla. So she was going to just forget about Riley, as hard as that seemed at this very moment. The one
thing that made it all easier was knowing that after Sunday, she’d probably never see him again.

“Okay, random.” Baby perched her vintage Marimekko-style sunglasses on top of her head and closed her magazine. Normally,
she couldn’t stand lying on the beach doing nothing. She wanted to run, to jump, to explore. But after her sleepless night,
it felt good to just do nothing. “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It only adds to your mystique,” Baby decided.

“I don’t
want
mystique.” Avery shifted on the chair so the sun was falling on her totally flat stomach. She frowned down and squeezed a
minuscule amount of skin. “Do you think I’m fat?”

“Okay, you’ve been hanging out with Jack for
way
too long.” Baby rolled her eyes. Of course Avery wasn’t fat. She was tall and she wasn’t stick-thin, but she always fit into
a size two or four.

Which, compared to Baby’s size zero, could make any girl feel fat.

“No, it’s just I don’t understand….” Avery sighed in frustration as she let the sentence trail off. Why hadn’t Rhys
done
anything yesterday? Last night after dinner, they’d all gone for a swim. She’d been wearing her orange Eres bikini and had
practically been sticking out her chest in front of him, a
very
un-Avery-like move, and still, nothing. Was he not attracted to her? Was their flirtation all in her head?

All of a sudden, she didn’t want to talk about it with Baby. She wouldn’t understand. Guys fell all over her all the time,
even when she hadn’t brushed her hair or changed her clothes or washed her face. Right now, she was wearing a blue halter
bikini top and baggy Brooklyn Industries shorts and still, three guys running past had given her the once-over. It was so
unfair.

“Aren’t we supposed to have Thanksgiving dinner early, at like four?” Baby grabbed her margarita and took a long gulp. “We
should probably get up there.”

“Fine,” Avery sighed. Lying here wasn’t going to help her make any headway with Rhys, anyway.

Together, they hiked up the limestone steps toward the private pavilion that held the pool and hot tub. Each of the villas
had access to the pavilion from their sitting rooms, and from inside the villa you could see the pool. The girls quickly showered
and changed, then made their way to meet their family. They were having dinner on the deck of Edie and Remington’s villa,
served by waiters from the restaurant.

“You’re here!” Edie crowed as the girls approached. She was wearing a green-and-blue dress that looked like a toga, a purple
orchid haphazardly tucked into her blond bob. “Happy Thanksgiving, my darlings!” Edie swooped down and kissed Avery and Baby
on their heads.

She sat back down at the head of the table, which was piled high with bowls of coconuts, pineapple, and mango. It was festive,
if it didn’t exactly conjure up images of pilgrims and a harvest meal. “We were just playing a getting-to-know-you game!”
Edie announced, squeezing Remington’s hand.

Fun!

Avery settled into the empty seat beside her mother, with Baby on her other side. Rhys was at the opposite end of the table,
next to Owen. He was adjusting his napkin and she wasn’t able to catch his eye.

“So, what we do is we go around the table, say our name, and then use an adjective that describes how we’re feeling that begins
with the letter of our name. So, I’m Edie and I’m
ecstatic
to be here with Remy!” At this, Edie turned and kissed Remington on the lips.

Avery tried not to stare at her mom and Remington kissing—she was sure it was like an eclipse and that too much direct eye
contact would make her go blind. She realized it was her turn now. “Um.” She glanced around the table, cutting her eyes away
when she reached Rhys. “I’m Avery and I’m…”

A
little bit in love with my brother’s best friend?

“I’m always up for an
adventure
,” she finished lamely. It was so typical of Edie to make them play a dippy game. Back in Nantucket, they used to always play
charades when guests came over. At least she hadn’t said anything too embarrassing in front of Rhys.

Everyone looked to Baby next. She could feel Riley’s eyes boring holes into her face. He was seated across the table from
her, next to Layla, but their seats were a foot apart, and no part of them was touching. “Okay,” Baby started, looking down
at her plate to avoid Riley’s intense gaze. “I’m Baby and I’m—”

“Badass!” Layla exclaimed, reaching across the table and giving her a high five.

“I’ll second that!” Riley exclaimed. “You should have seen her on her horse yesterday!”

Baby grinned across the table. Layla seemed so fun and cool, and the more she got to know her, the worse she felt. She caught
Riley’s eye across the table, and then looked quickly away.

“Okay, Riley, it’s your turn!” Edie announced merrily. Two servers came by and set platters of jumbo shrimp on the center
of the table. Avery was grateful that her mom didn’t ask the servers to participate in their getting-to-know-you game.

“Okay. I’m Riley and I’m
really
looking forward to
riding
again.”

Baby looked down at the pink shrimp, knowing he was trying to make eye contact. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Why did he
have to bring up their ride?

“Oh, a
double
R! Aren’t you a smart cookie!” Edie trilled, already on her third drink. She looked like she wanted to ruffle Riley’s hair,
but luckily he was too far down the table.

“Yes, I heard you were quite the trailblazer yesterday, Baby,” Remington said jovially, helping himself to more shrimp. “I
didn’t know you rode. You should go again tomorrow. Won’t have many chances to ride again once you’re back in Manhattan,”
he added with a wink.

“Oh, I don’t—” Baby started, but Riley cut her off.

“I’ll take you,” he offered, his eyes dancing. “There’s a whole other set of trails on the other side of the island we could
check out.”

“Count me out!” Layla laughed, even though she hadn’t been invited. She drained her glass. “That pony made me carsick yesterday.
You couldn’t pay me to get back on one. Plus, Dad, I want to go out on the boat with you.”

“It’s settled, then,” Riley said, nodding. “Baby and I will go tomorrow.”

Baby nodded, not wanting to make a scene. She’d deal with this tomorrow. After all, they were only here for the weekend. How
hard could it be to avoid Riley for three more days?

“Okay.” Remington cleared his throat as the servers set down tuna tartare, conch mini tacos, and crab rolls on the table.
“I’m Remington and I’m
really
in love with Edie.”

“Aw, well that makes me even more
ecstatic
!” Edie cooed, a salmon roll halfway to her mouth. Owen set down the lemonade pitcher with such force that the liquid overflowed
on the table.

“Nice work,” Avery murmured, passing him her napkin. Owen didn’t even try to clean up the spill, though. His jaw was set and
he was glaring at Remington.

“Listen up, kids,” Remington said as he put a hand up, oblivious to Owen’s gaze. Even the servers paused to listen. “Being
here with all of you—well, it feels like a family.” He stood and raised his glass, glancing from face to face. His eyes were
actually tearing up. “And I know—I am more sure than I’ve ever been—that this is what I want for the rest of my life.” He
turned to Edie as everyone stared in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. “Edie? Will you marry me?”

Remington knelt down and pulled out a black box from his pocket, flipping it open. A five-carat diamond ring sparkled from
inside the box. “Now, I know how you feel about diamonds, but this is an ethical diamond—I checked,” Remington babbled, still
on one knee.

“What?” Edie said, her mouth full. She stared down at Remington, in shock. “Of course!” she breathed, blinking her enormous
eyes. “Of course we’ll get married! Does it even need to be a question?” She hugged Remington and beckoned toward the triplets.
Remington looked like he was going to faint.

“Oh my God, congratulations!” Avery cried, jumping up and hugging her mother. Sure, it was a little fast, but love was love.
And if romance was in the air, maybe Rhys would get a whiff of it.

Is monogamy now airborne?

“You’re getting married?” Owen croaked. All the color had drained from his face, and he looked like he was about to throw
up.

“Yes, dear,” Edie said matter-of-factly, settling back into her chair as if this were the most ordinary of dinners. “Now,
let’s go on with our game,” she said, a bemused expression on her face. “Rhys, it’s your turn!”

“Hear! Hear!” Rhys loudly clinked his fork against his Baccarat glass. Riley followed suit.

Baby hollowly began clapping. Her mom and Remington were getting
married
? So much for never seeing these people again. Remington was going to be her stepfather. Layla was going to be her stepsister
.
And with her luck, she’d probably be the bridesmaid at Layla and Riley’s wedding.

Better than the flower girl.

Jack strode across the marble lobby of the Cashman Lofts and stepped into the private elevator to the penthouse on Thursday
evening, a woman on a mission. She hoped J.P.’s family was done with dinner, so she and J.P. could go upstairs and do it already.

Happy Thanksgiving!

She glanced at herself in the gilt gold mirror in the elevator and smoothed her hair. She tried not to be annoyed that all
her careful planning had been foiled. Originally, she’d thought they’d get together tonight at her place, where she had everything
set up to her precise specifications: Tocca candles at her bedside, a bouquet of freesias sitting on her rolltop desk, and
a bottle of Möet in the Sub-Zero downstairs that they could sneak down and have afterwards. But then when her dad had unexpectedly
announced this morning that the family was going to come back to the city after their Thanksgiving meal instead of staying
overnight in the suburbs, she’d had to hastily rearrange plans.

Jack stepped off the elevator and rang the doorbell, hoping that J.P. would answer, instead of his flashy, former supermodel
mom or overly friendly dad.

“Hey beautiful.” The door swung open, and revealed J.P. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and khakis. Just like always. “Perfect
timing. My parents practically fell asleep at the dinner table,” he said, closing the door behind her.

“Good.” Jack followed J.P. through the labyrinthine hallways she knew so well and toward the stairs that led to his mini bachelor
pad. It was a living area, bedroom, and bathroom that looked remarkably normal, all decorated with sleek black and gray Eames
furniture, rather than the mishmash collection of antiques and ultra-modern pieces that populated the rest of the house.

“I’m so glad you came over.” J.P. closed the door, twisting its brass lock just to be safe. He dimmed the lights and pressed
play on his Bose sound dock. The sound of Coldplay filled the room and Jack tried not to wince. Were they really going to
do it to a crappy band that thirty-year-olds listened to?

Well, if it works for Gwyneth…

She blocked out the whiny sounds of Coldplay and the thoroughly unromantic track lighting. Who needed champagne and roses
and all those other cheesy things? All she needed was J.P. Her boyfriend. Who was perfect.

There’s that word again….

“I’m glad we waited,” J.P. murmured into Jack’s auburn hair as he led her over to his California king horsehair-filled bed.

“Me too,” Jack breathed, even though she couldn’t help but feel a tugging suspicion that they sounded like characters in a
very lame teen movie.

Jack sprawled out on J.P.’s bed, enjoying his gaze. She was wearing a demure silk DVF dress, her black lace La Perla boy shorts
and bra underneath. It was underwear she’d worn before, and J.P. had probably seen it. All of the new bras, corsets, and garters
she’d bought from La Petite Coquette were sitting untouched in her bedroom. In the end, it was probably better if she didn’t
treat it like
such
a big deal. It was just J.P. They’d been together forever. It was more remarkable that they
hadn’t
done it, right?

“I love you so much. Always,” J.P. whispered earnestly as he stroked her bare arm.

“Kiss me!” Jack replied impatiently. Maybe it’d be better if he just didn’t talk. J.P. leaned in and put his lips on hers,
his mouth tasting like eucalyptus. His slim fingers played at her back, where her dress was buttoned with tiny mother-of-pearl
buttons. He fumbled slightly.

“I’ll do it.” Jack reached around and undid the buttons, then rearranged herself on the bed, crossing her legs seductively
at her ankles.

Just then, her cell beeped from her voluminous blue Balenciaga city bag.