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It was sunset, and we were both lying in the huge hammock, being rocked gently by the soft evening wind. Giles and Hunter were taking advantage of the flat water of early evening and had gone wakeboarding out in the bay. At one point, Hunter skimmed by on the wakeboard and somehow managed to blow me a kiss while jumping a wave.

“What a show-off,” I said, secretly proud.

“You know, Sylvie, Hunter is the best husband ever—after my own, of course. You shouldn’t be annoyed with him,” said Lauren. “All that time he knew exactly what was going on, but he didn’t say a word,
so as not to spoil things for anyone. I’m a much better friend for you now that I’m married.”

“I couldn’t understand it when you were suddenly married and he didn’t seem surprised. He’s such a dark horse.”

“Do you feel like a
mille-feuille
? You know, we have a French pastry chef on board.”

“I think I’m too hot for a patisserie now,” I answered sipping at my cool mojito. “Your wedding dress was divine.”

Lauren closed her eyes for a moment as if remembering the bliss of the gown. “It was a shame no one got to see it for real,” she sighed. “Thack is a genius. He texted me. He’s had zillions of new orders from that picture in the
Post
.”

“And get this, Nina Chlore wants to wear a blue version of it to the Oscars. You don’t mind, do you?” I asked.

“I’m flattered that a fashion icon like Nina is inspired by someone as shabby as myself,” she said wryly. “Shall we go up to the front of the boat and look for dolphins?”

With that, Lauren launched herself out of the hammock, and I followed. We strolled up to the bow, where we hung over the edge of the boat, staring down at the blue depths, silent. Suddenly Lauren pointed to a gray shadow moving through the water to her left.

“Look,” she whispered. “It’s a turtle. I
love
turtles.
They’re so ugly and cute. Do you think I’d wreck this Thomas Maier bathing suit if I did a back flip off the front of the boat?”

Just then a dolphin’s nose splashed powerfully out of the water as it came up for air. Just as suddenly, it disappeared into the distance.

“Oh, it’s gone,” said Lauren. “Did I tell you about Salome?”

“What?” I said, lifting myself from the edge of the boat and looking at Lauren.

“She’s getting married.”

“Stop it! Who to?”

“Angus McConnell, that Scottish guy. It turns out he
is
an actual prince. He’s, like, one of the Macbeths or something. The whole made-up name thing was just made up. Her family is
totally
talking to him. Her father said she could definitely marry an infidel if he was royal. She’ll be ‘Princess Angus’ from now on.”

“No!”

“It’s true. And Tinsley’s eloped with the FreshDirect guy,
while
engaged to her doorman, who is devastated. He picked her up from her building in a white limo that stretched from here to next week. Tinsley loves him so much that she’s pretending not to be embarrassed. Oh! Another dolphin, look!” said Lauren craning her neck downward.

“Did you hear that Marci is thinking of getting back with Christopher?” I asked.

“Really?” said Lauren.

She seemed pensive suddenly and looked out to sea for a moment. Then she looked back at me and said, “I hope she does. Whatever anyone says, being married is a million times sexier than being divorced. It’s the intimacy. Now I know what I was missing, I feel like all those parties, all those vacations, all those…orgasms”—here Lauren couldn’t help but burst out laughing—“as I was saying, all those orgasms weren’t so great after all, even the multiple ones. There’s nothing better, you know, than being a
former
Debutante Divorcée. Of course, I’m a little disappointed in myself.”

“Why?” I asked.

Lauren fiddled with the cocktail ring on her wedding finger, sliding it back and forth before she answered me. She had a mischievous look in her eye. Then she said, deadpan. “I
totally
failed at the Make Out Challenge.”

I looked at her quizically.

“What do you mean you failed?”

“I wasn’t planning to land a new husband…” she said. “
And
be madly in love with it.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that a failure,” I told her.

“And I
still
can’t fix the surround sound,” insisted Lauren stubbornly. “It’s so inconvenient.”

Lauren was completely and utterly, madly, whatever you want to call it, in love with her husband. It
was a shock. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s true. Divorced girls in New York these days put almost as much effort into finding husbands as they once did into losing them.

 

The End

I
could not have written
The Debutante Divorcée
without being inspired by some incredibly glamorous, wonderfully witty, and quite extraordinary New York girls. I thank all those fabulous, real-life Debutante Divorcees who whispered me their secrets and cooperated with me for this book with such great humor. To all of you—and you know who you are—your anonymity remains intact and my thanks are sincere.

I would also like to thank my editor in New York, Jonathan Burnham, for his line-by-line editing, without which this book may not be quite as readable. To Juliet Annan at Penguin U.K., many thanks. To my agent, Eric Simonoff at Janklow Nesbit, I owe a debt for his marvelous agenting. I also thank Luke Janklow for his support. At Miramax Books, Harvey Weinstein, Rob Weisbach, Kristin Powers, and Judy Hottensen have been a great team to work with. Sandi Mendelson has been a fantastic publicist.

For their incredible help on the inspiration and detail for this book—from the art on Lauren’s walls to the jewels she wore in bed—I would like to thank the following: Bob Cohen; Pamela Gross; Susan Campos, Miles Redd, Daniel Romauldez, Dr. Genevieve Davies, Blaire Voltz-Clarke, Jeoffrey Munn at Wartski, the staff at A La Vielle Russie, Gulia Costantini, Samantha Gregory, Antony Todd, Tinsley Mercer-Mortimer, Beth Blake, Kara Baker, Miranda Brooks, Milly de Cabrol, Holly Peterson, Cleopatra, NG, Muffy Potter Aston, Vicky Ward, Charlotte Sprintus, and Samantha Cameron.

I also thank Anna Wintour for her support for my work, both in and out of
Vogue
, the huge Sykes family for their loyalty and support, Carly Fraser for her amazing fact checking, Anna-Louise Clegg for her help with organizing my edits, Emily Berkeley at Louis Vuitton for finding the beautiful Epi leather suitcases for the cover.

Most of all, I thank my husband, Toby Rowland, for reading
The Debutante Divorcée
over and over again, and for taking me to extraordinary places that inspire me.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE DEBUTANTE DIVORCÉE
. Copyright © 2006 Plum Sykes. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Hyperion e-books.

Adobe Digital Edition June 2009 ISBN 978-1-4013-9458-5

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