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Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
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nodded eagerly, obviously wanting to be part of an underwear-shopping experience more like that one.
Jack rolled her eyes. The girl who was getting married—the
hen
?—was sort of chunky and had bad teeth, but she looked radiant and happy. Jack imagined having her own bachelorette party,
surrounded by Jiffy and Genevieve. They’d laugh as they looked back on this day, which by then would seem ridiculously far
in the past. But she couldn’t quite conjure up the image. If she was getting overwhelmed just thinking about
sex
with J.P., how were they ever going to get
married
? Jack took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task in front of her. It was just underwear. It was just sex. It was just
J.P., her loving, caring boyfriend. “
Perfect
,” she chanted quietly to herself, her own personal mantra.
Usually, she said it when things weren’t perfect at all.
“I need to go,” she announced. But Genevieve and Jiffy were giggling along with the Scottish girls, not even listening to
her.
Fuck this. She’d just go and buy underwear
by herself
, which she should have done in the first place. Maybe at La Petite Coquette, that adorable store in the village. Somewhere
quiet, discreet, where people weren’t haranguing her about ballerina fantasies or shrieking about their tacky weddings. Somewhere
she could just plan her special day with J.P. and
not
freak the fuck out. Jack stormed back to the elevator and pressed the down button, anxious to get downstairs and out of Barneys.
Isn’t she glad she doesn’t live there now?
vacation, all a ever wanted
Avery peeled her avocado green Milly cardigan off her shoulders as she exited the tiny North Eleuthera airport. Behind them,
a porter was busily pushing a cart piled high with Avery’s Louis Vuitton luggage and Edie’s army green duffel.
“How was your flight?” Rhys asked shyly, coming up alongside Avery. He was still wearing his black Ralph Lauren sweater and
his pressed khakis, small beads of sweat forming at his hairline.
“All right,” Avery said as she pushed her Coach sunglasses on top of her wheat blond hair.
All right?
How lame was she? She felt like she’d been chewing on an old sock. She took a small tin of Altoid mints out of her tote.
“Want one?” she offered.
“Sure.” Rhys grabbed two mints and crunched them between his front teeth.
“Wallis party?” an elderly man asked, opening the door to a stretch SUV. Avery smiled in satisfaction. She’d been worried
that this would be one of those totally gross back-to-the-elements vacations where people paid thousands to hike in a desert
and stay in a yurt. But the SUV looked appropriately luxurious
.
“This is lovely,” Edie cooed, apparently not doing the math on the SUV’s carbon footprint. She’d removed her leg warmers and
was wearing a pair of ugly earth-friendly straw sandals. “Remington, thank you!” Edie flung her arms around Remington’s neck
and kissed him.
“Mom,” Avery hissed. The PDAs
had
to stop.
“You kids.” Edie shook her head. Over by the curb, Layla and Riley were holding hands, while Baby sat on her duffel, hugging
her knees. This was the weirdest group of people ever. Before, Carlyle family vacations had consisted of visiting Edie’s far-flung
friends or tagging along with their grandmother Avery on one of her intercontinental adventures. One year, they’d helped make
hammocks at a self-sustaining Vermont commune. Another, Avery had gone on a Mediterranean cruise with Grandmother Avery and
had been the youngest on the ship by at least fifty years.
“We’re in the back!” Layla giggled, ducking into the SUV. Avery carefully climbed into the car. Once the bags were situated,
the SUV lurched away from the airport, turning onto a dirt road that hugged the coast. The island was about an hour’s drive
away, separated from the mainland by a causeway.
“You okay?” Baby whispered to her sister. Avery nodded. Usually she
Jack rolled her eyes. The girl who was getting married—the
hen
?—was sort of chunky and had bad teeth, but she looked radiant and happy. Jack imagined having her own bachelorette party,
surrounded by Jiffy and Genevieve. They’d laugh as they looked back on this day, which by then would seem ridiculously far
in the past. But she couldn’t quite conjure up the image. If she was getting overwhelmed just thinking about
sex
with J.P., how were they ever going to get
married
? Jack took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task in front of her. It was just underwear. It was just sex. It was just
J.P., her loving, caring boyfriend. “
Perfect
,” she chanted quietly to herself, her own personal mantra.
Usually, she said it when things weren’t perfect at all.
“I need to go,” she announced. But Genevieve and Jiffy were giggling along with the Scottish girls, not even listening to
her.
Fuck this. She’d just go and buy underwear
by herself
, which she should have done in the first place. Maybe at La Petite Coquette, that adorable store in the village. Somewhere
quiet, discreet, where people weren’t haranguing her about ballerina fantasies or shrieking about their tacky weddings. Somewhere
she could just plan her special day with J.P. and
not
freak the fuck out. Jack stormed back to the elevator and pressed the down button, anxious to get downstairs and out of Barneys.
Isn’t she glad she doesn’t live there now?
vacation, all a ever wanted
Avery peeled her avocado green Milly cardigan off her shoulders as she exited the tiny North Eleuthera airport. Behind them,
a porter was busily pushing a cart piled high with Avery’s Louis Vuitton luggage and Edie’s army green duffel.
“How was your flight?” Rhys asked shyly, coming up alongside Avery. He was still wearing his black Ralph Lauren sweater and
his pressed khakis, small beads of sweat forming at his hairline.
“All right,” Avery said as she pushed her Coach sunglasses on top of her wheat blond hair.
All right?
How lame was she? She felt like she’d been chewing on an old sock. She took a small tin of Altoid mints out of her tote.
“Want one?” she offered.
“Sure.” Rhys grabbed two mints and crunched them between his front teeth.
“Wallis party?” an elderly man asked, opening the door to a stretch SUV. Avery smiled in satisfaction. She’d been worried
that this would be one of those totally gross back-to-the-elements vacations where people paid thousands to hike in a desert
and stay in a yurt. But the SUV looked appropriately luxurious
.
“This is lovely,” Edie cooed, apparently not doing the math on the SUV’s carbon footprint. She’d removed her leg warmers and
was wearing a pair of ugly earth-friendly straw sandals. “Remington, thank you!” Edie flung her arms around Remington’s neck
and kissed him.
“Mom,” Avery hissed. The PDAs
had
to stop.
“You kids.” Edie shook her head. Over by the curb, Layla and Riley were holding hands, while Baby sat on her duffel, hugging
her knees. This was the weirdest group of people ever. Before, Carlyle family vacations had consisted of visiting Edie’s far-flung
friends or tagging along with their grandmother Avery on one of her intercontinental adventures. One year, they’d helped make
hammocks at a self-sustaining Vermont commune. Another, Avery had gone on a Mediterranean cruise with Grandmother Avery and
had been the youngest on the ship by at least fifty years.
“We’re in the back!” Layla giggled, ducking into the SUV. Avery carefully climbed into the car. Once the bags were situated,
the SUV lurched away from the airport, turning onto a dirt road that hugged the coast. The island was about an hour’s drive
away, separated from the mainland by a causeway.
“You okay?” Baby whispered to her sister. Avery nodded. Usually she
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