My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

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.”