Chapter 3
ABI
“Absolutely not,” Archie decrees from his perch on my bed.
Wait, is it a perch if he’s stretched out on his side, booted feet hanging over the edge with a mimosa in his hand and a look of disbelief on his face?
“Actually, that not only won’t work for Aruba, but you need to donate it to a blind beach bum. What were you thinking with that print and that color?” He holds a flat hand above his brow as though the shirt is the brightness of the noon sun shining in his eyes.
I look in the mirror again for a new appraisal. The hot pink button-up shirt with sunglass-wearing pineapples had seemed fun and quirky when I bought it. I figured I could wear it with white cut-offs and pink heeled sandals and be vacay-ready. But maybe not?
I yank the shirt out of the waistband of my shorts despite the fact that it took me nearly five minutes to get it there. Instead, I knot it at my waist. “Better?”
The snort from Archie says quite equivocally that the answer is still no.
Violet shoots him a glare, having my back the way a bestie should.
Technically, she’s Archie’s boss when they’re doing an interior design project, but the truth is, Archie does what Archie wants, and that includes saying whatever he thinks with zero filter.
It’s why we love him, and occasionally, why we hate him.
“What’s wrong with pineapples? They’re cute and fun.
A hospitality thing, I think.” Violet tilts her head as if trying to remember where she heard that.
“Oh! And there’s the whole quote thing about them .
. . be a pineapple—stand tall, wear a crown, and be sweet on the inside.
” Her smile is one of encouragement to keep the shirt that Archie finds so hideously offensive.
Archie smirks. “That is not where I thought you were going with that.”
Courtney steps out from my closet with a gauzy swimsuit cover-up, innocently asking Archie, “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I tell her. She’s grown and married, but she’s still my baby sister, and I’m not giving her sex tips and tricks. Not today, not ever.
Although she probably knows more than I do at this point. She’s definitely getting more dick than I am with her and Kaede being newlyweds.
But now, I’m going to be thinking weird sexual thoughts whenever I pull this shirt on, so off it goes. I toss it to the floor, done with it and glad my solo fashion show has been hijacked or else I would’ve been looking a mess in Aruba.
“I cannot go shopping. I don’t have time. What I have in my closet has to work.” Even as I say it, I consider hitting the mall one more time.
Archie sighs, his cattiness disappearing as he snaps his fingers and flips into work mode. “Give me the list.” This is the other reason we love him. He is the most organized person I’ve ever met, and that includes Courtney, who is a planner extraordinaire.
I hand Archie my tablet, and he reads aloud while we listen like he’s telling a bedtime story. “Day one—travel. That includes drive, flight, and check-in. Show me what you have.”
The order is sharp, and Courtney holds up soft joggers and a slim tank top, while Violet picks up a lightweight wrap for the cool airplane. I add, “I’ll wear my slip-on sneakers for TSA.”
He taps the screen. Day by day, he works through my trip agenda, from clothes that can get dirty while I create on-site, clothes that can be seen while I’m setting up, and then moving into the fun stuff for my downtime.
I’m planning to make the most of this opportunity and balance work and play, so I’ll need shorts, swimsuits, and yoga clothes.
“Let me see your swimsuit.”
Violet holds it up, the straps thick and the bottoms modest. It’s my suit for the pool when I’m going to swim and don’t want anything falling out.
Even Courtney laughs this time. “Seriously, Abs. That looks like a mom-suit designed to lock and load the girls for serious mission work.” She takes it upon herself to dig through my dresser drawer for something else, but I’m fighting for this one.
“Give me that. High-rise bottoms are hot right now. I’ll show you,” I argue, grabbing the suit from Violet. Not shy in front of my sisters and not having the right parts for Archie, I strip and pull the suit on.
In the mirror, I pose as I turn left and right. “See? Adorbs!” It is, I’m certain of it. The green bottoms are high waisted, but the sides scrunch up into little ties that highlight my thighs, and the top is halter-cut to create cleavage while keeping my breasts secure.
But when I look up, I see the reflection of three sets of dubious eyes behind me. “What?”
Archie rolls his eyes. “Imma let you two tell her because I’m not sure she can handle my degree of truth.”
Oh, shit! Is it that bad? So bad that Archie, of all people, is biting his tongue—literally, his pink tongue is poking from between his teeth—so he doesn’t hurt my feelings?
Violet comes to stand behind me, her eyes pinched with whatever she’s about to unleash on me.
“I want you to understand . . . you have a great ass. It’s not you.
But this suit?” She glances down to my butt sadly.
“It makes you look like your ass is two feet tall. Abs, the waistband is like two inches from the tie in the middle of your back.”
I spin, trying to see what she’s talking about, but despite all my yoga classes, I can’t look at my own backside.
Violet’s not done.
She bends down, getting more up close and personal with my ass than most of my lovers have, and holds her hands up, a good two feet apart behind me. “This is the waist, and this is where your butt meets your thigh. Do you want your ass to look this big?”
Well, shit. I might not be able to see behind me, but the answer to that question is always no. “Fine. I guess I can get a suit there. If I even have time to sneak away to the beach.”
Nerves are kicking back in. This event is going to be huge, both in scale and in importance, and it’s way more serious than how my ass looks. The turn in my mood must show on my face because suddenly, my mimosa is shoved into my hand. When I don’t immediately drink, Violet lifts it for me.
“It’ll be fine, Abi. You know this. We know this. Claire Johnson knows this. It’s why she hired you, because she knows you can manage to bring your creative vision to life for her wedding.”
“Mmmhmm.” I nod robotically.
Courtney comes to my other side, boxing me in. “Tell me about the flowers. What flowers are you using?”
One friend for pep talks, one sister for logic, and one friend to refill my glass.
“Thanks, Archie,” I say, lifting it myself this time for a long swallow.
“Claire wants local flowers for some of the events, but I have some special ones too, like the roses for the ceremony. I’ve confirmed their arrival dates this week so they’ll be fresh, and Janey and I packed and shipped vases, floral foam, wire, and everything else we’ll need weeks ago.
The resort team already confirmed that they have those. ”
Courtney dips her chin, a knowing smile curling her lips.
We might be very different—her the fierce boardroom bitch and me the wild child free spirit, but we are both Andrewses.
Taking care of business is in our blood, and by making me list out what I’ve already handled, she knows I’ll find some peace.
I smile back at my cheerleaders. “I’m ready.”
And I am. I can handle whatever comes my way this week because I’m ready to tackle this event and make it my bitch.
“Okay, I hate to break up the party, but I need to get home. Ross and Carly need me,” Violet says wistfully.
The truth is, she’s jonesing for some baby snuggles of her own because Ross is likely doing just fine, probably airplane-flying my niece around their penthouse home or watching the business news to teach her all about economics.
He’s an amazing dad, much to everyone’s surprise.
Not that we thought my brother would be a bad dad, exactly, but he’s matured so much and has truly become what we always hoped he would be—a great husband, a devoted father, and a role model of a man.
Violet’s exit starts everyone toward the door, and after hugs and promises to not behave to a gleaming-eyed, bad influence Archie, I find myself alone in my apartment.
I pick my tablet up from the bed where Archie left it and begin my own process of checking my lists.
Santa might check his twice, but I go for a solid four rounds, item by item, list by list, until I’m sure that I’m truly ready.
I water my plants, telling them that Mama will be away for a few days but Aunt Courtney will come by to take care of them, and then lie down as the sun sets, setting my alarm so that I’ll have time to get to the airport for my five a.m. flight.
The entirety of Aruba spreads out below us as our plane begins to descend and my breath is taken away.
It’s so incredibly beautiful. Clear pristine waters rush forward to meet the sandy white beach that rings the entire island, and the water visually fades out to a line where it becomes deep azure blue skies.
It’s postcard perfect, and I can definitely see why Claire chose this place to have her wedding.
The plane rattles violently as it descends, hitting a patch of turbulence. Janey, who was until that moment peacefully snoring next to me, nearly jumps out of her seat in alarm.
“I didn’t do it, your honor, I swear—” Janey half yells, causing heads to turn, then catches herself as she realizes she just woke up.
Playing it off, she pats her hair and stretches, letting out a loud yawn and saying, “Oof, glad that was a dream. But just in case, if anyone asks, I was with you the whole week.”