Three Little Words

by Jenny Holiday

  Wendy emerged from the bathroom in her underwear, her hands on her hips. “How come we didn’t talk last night about you and Bennett?”

  So much for getting all emotional over the final dress fitting.

  “What about Bennett and me?” Gia feigned ignorance.

  “You texted me that you fooled around with him. But you don’t appear to have told Elise this. If you had, she would have brought it up first thing and beat you over the head until you spilled all the details.”

  Wendy was right. It was super weird for Gia not to have told Elise that she’d “fooled around” with Bennett. And none of the girls knew that she’d subsequently done a lot more than “fool around.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Elise about it?” Gia asked. She’d been aiming for a teasing tone, but feared she’d fallen short. Usually the deal was that if you told one girl something, you told them all.

  Wendy tilted her head and squinted at Gia. “When she didn’t bring it up, I figured it was because you didn’t tell her. And I assumed you had a reason for that. I just don’t know what it is.”

  Shit. Wendy was onto her.

  When she didn’t respond, Wendy said, “I’m left to conclude that either you’ve already forgotten about it, or there’s something going on that you don’t want us to know about.”

  “I’ve already forgotten about it,” Gia said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

  “Then why the secrecy?”

  Normally Gia wasn’t shy about discussing her exploits with her friends, and Wendy knew it.

  “I just didn’t want to inject any drama into the wedding.” There. That sounded reasonable. “The other two weddings had enough of that, don’t you think? I’ve decided to stay away from the wedding party.”

  And that was turning out to be easier than she would have thought. Yesterday she’d been angry with herself for not making her little “we’re done” speech to Bennett when she’d had her chance, but it was proving not to have been necessary. Bennett had pretty much ignored her since they arrived, huddling with Noah and then going out with the guys after their group dinner last night when the girls had swept her away for drinks and dancing to celebrate her birthday.

  “Can’t say I blame you on the whole ‘staying away from the wedding party’ front when it comes to Tobias,” Wendy said, “but it would be kind of hilarious to see him and Bennett all dressed up in armor and, like, jousting over the right to hold your handkerchief or something.” She threw her head back and performed her signature Wendy cackle, and Gia couldn’t help but join in.

  “All right.” Gia crossed the room and picked up the dress with a reverence she had not exactly shown consistently when it had been in her care—her mind flashed back to the snowball fight in which she’d used it as a shield. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t keep standing here in my skivvies. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Gia carefully unzipped the garment bag and then the dress inside it. “You want to step into it or have it go over your head?”

  “Step into it.”

  Gia held the dress steady as Wendy shimmied into it. Then she moved behind her and zipped her up.

  There was a knock on the door as soon as she’d done up the clasp at the top of the zipper, so she moved to answer it, stepping aside for Jane and Elise, who’d gone down to the lobby to meet the tailor and escort her up.

  The other girls squeed and exclaimed—they hadn’t seen the dress because they hadn’t been in New York for the initial tailoring appointment like Gia had.

  The tailor helped Wendy onto a small box she had positioned in front of the room’s full-length mirror, and the chattering died down. Jane drew in an audible breath, then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “It’s beautiful,” Elise breathed. Gia was gratified that she wasn’t the only one a little overcome with emotion.

  “Just like your mom was.” Jane hugged Wendy so hard, Gia could see her arm muscles straining.

  When Jane retreated, Wendy cleared her throat and eyed herself in the mirror. “It’s not very on trend, but…”

  “It is, too,” Gia declared. The dress was ivory lace, with a short, swingy skirt and a wide, off-the-shoulder ruffled bodice. It had originally had long sleeves, which the New York salon had removed, making it more modern-looking and also more appropriate for summer. But you’d never know to look at it that it had undergone such major surgery. “Seventies boho chic just starting to shade into eighties excess. It’s fabulous.” Gia got out her camera and took today’s picture.

  “How are you going to wear your hair?” the tailor asked as she did some pinning.

  “I initially thought down,” Wendy said. Wendy had gorgeous, midback-length, shiny black hair. “But then I thought it might get annoying if it’s windy. It’s not going to be a long ceremony, but I don’t want to spend it fighting with my hair.”

  “And this low back with the lace is stunning,” the tailor said. “Better to wear your hair up.”

  “I was actually toying with the idea of just putting it in a loose braid down my back,” Wendy said. “Just kind of running with the 1970s hippie theme. Is that crazy?”

  “How very low-key of you,” Elise teased, sticking out her tongue at Jane. Jane, while not nearly the bridezilla Elise had been, had spent the run-up to her wedding, which she kept insisting would be “low-key,” being anything but that.

  “A braid is perfect,” Gia said. “Are you doing flowers? I could totally see just some simple daisies or wildflowers. You could stick one in the braid, too.”

  “Honestly, I thought I’d just hit the floral section of a grocery store Saturday morning and get something low-key like that. Slap a ribbon around them and I’m done.” It was her turn to tease Jane.

  Jane rolled her eyes good-naturedly and said, “That’s perfect—all of it: the flowers, the braid. Totally you. Effortlessly beautiful.”

  Gia got a little misty again. “Who would have thought, a year ago, that Wendy would be getting married?”

  Everyone turned to her. They were perpetually worried that Gia would think they’d abandoned her or something stupid like that, and she was forever reassuring them. She didn’t have any of those hang-ups. She was thrilled to see her friends so happy. Plus she genuinely liked all their husbands.

  It was more that Wendy hadn’t seemed the marrying type. Elise and Jane had been the romantics in their group.

  Gia waved away their concerned looks. “No worries, you guys. You all getting married doesn’t change anything between us. I’m sticking to you all like a freaking barnacle whether you like it or not.” Then she nodded at Elise’s tummy. “Besides, someone has to be the cool, single aunt when you all start procreating. I only meant that you”—she turned to Wendy again—“always had such a no-nonsense approach to love and sex. You were always on about how boring men were.”

  “Ah.” Wendy nodded sagely. “Well, gather round, children, because I’m about to impart some great wisdom and get all philosophical and shit on you.”

  Jane’s and Elise’s faces grew serious. Gia leaned in, her curiosity piqued.

  “Yeah, come right in close, because this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say this.” Wendy waited a few beats, probably to amp up the drama, then grinned and said, “I was totally wrong about that. Men—the right ones, mind you—are the bomb.”

  * * *

  Jesus Christ. Gia in a bikini on the beach. As Bennett—who had returned from his meeting with Lalande’s chef friend and changed into swim trunks—approached the wedding party, it was all he could do not to let loose an audible stream of curses.

  It made no sense. He’d seen her partially or fully naked a few times. Three, to be precise. Four if you counted yesterday morning’s shower. Not that he was counting.

  Okay, he was counting.

  There was something different about this, though. She was lying on a lounge chair wearing a tiny white bikini and a big floppy hat and reading a magazine—all that perfection ex
isting in the world like it was no big deal. Like he was just supposed to walk over and say hi, give everyone equal attention, maybe order a tea and sip it like a goddamned normal person who wasn’t losing his fucking mind.

  He thought back to when he and Gia had spoken about his past girlfriends. He’d claimed that he’d come to love them. He’d thought he had.

  But clearly, he’d had no idea.

  If this—this savage, fruitless, excruciating yearning he was powerless to do anything about—was love…then he was brand new to the concept.

  He considered turning around and going inside.

  But no. He could do this. He was a grown-ass man. This was what he’d wanted, all week, to get here, into the warm air. He had no idea what the hell to do about Gia, but he was pretty sure hiding from her wasn’t going to achieve anything.

  “Hey,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention, including hers—she slid her sunglasses down her nose, and her gaze raked over him.

  “Everything good?” Wendy asked idly from a couple chairs over.

  “Yep. We’re all set. I got the lay of the land, met their seafood guy, and placed our order.”

  “Thanks, man,” Noah said from the other side of Wendy. Their chairs had been dragged flush against each other, and he was idly playing with her hair, running his hands through it.

  Elise and Jay were there, too, sitting cross-legged across from each other on the same lounge chair, a travel checkerboard between them.

  And that asshole Tobias was on the other side of Gia, absorbed in his phone.

  “Where are Cameron and Jane?” he asked, reaching for benign conversation.

  “They drove out to Busch Gardens,” Elise said with a smirk.

  “God forbid there should be a roller coaster within a hundred-mile radius that they haven’t made out on,” Wendy said.

  “Everyone’s doing their own thing today,” Noah said. “So don’t feel like you have to waste the day on the beach with us lazy bums.”

  “I think wasting the day on the beach has been Bennett’s main goal since we left New York.” Gia yawned and idly shifted her leg so she could brush some sand off it.

  He had to prevent himself from reaching out and doing it for her, from taking a firm hand to that flawless expanse of thigh and cleaning off the sand that was marring its perfection.

  Then he had to move his towel in front of him.

  “Pull up a chair, then,” Noah said, but Bennett waved him off.

  “I’m going to go in the water.”

  “I’d suggest the pool if you want to swim,” Wendy said. “The Gulf isn’t really warm enough for swimming in February.”

  “Especially for a tender southern gentleman such as yourself,” Gia deadpanned.

  “I stuck my toes in, and it is cold,” Elise confirmed. Then she made a series of moves with a checker and said, “Ha! King me!”

  Apparently satisfied with her sand-free leg, Gia extended it back along her chair as she stretched out her whole body, reaching her arms above her head and arching her back.

  There was no appropriate way to respond to that other than to say, “Nah, I’m good with the ocean,” and to run away. It was not escaping Bennett’s notice that since realizing he was in love with Gia, he’d spent more time avoiding her than with her. Which wasn’t really helping him implement Noah’s whole “show her” directive. But a man had to do what a man had to do in order to survive.

  The only people in the water were some kids playing in the shallows and some wet-suited kiteboarders much farther out. He walked right past the kids and into the water, and holy God. They’d been right. It was freezing.

  But he’d escaped her.

  “Eeee!”

  Or not.

  He knew that shriek.

  He turned, but not before he’d walked out enough that he was submerged to his waist.

  “Ahhh!” she squealed, jumping up and down like she was walking on lava. “I was getting borderline comatose there in the sun. Thought I’d wake myself up, and—ahh!” She’d walked a little farther in and was hugging herself and squeezing her legs together like kids do when they have to pee. The sun glinted off her blue hair.

  She was adorable.

  He’d calmed down sufficiently that he could walk back out to meet her.

  “What’s the problem, Canada? Too cold for you?”

  That baited her. She shot him an exasperated look as she kept walking out. “Just taking my time, South Carolina. But don’t stay out here on my account. I wouldn’t want your tender southern balls to freeze off.”

  He snorted.

  “What?” She was all fake innocence. “You have nice balls. I’ve tasted them, and they’re delicious. Preserve them at all costs, please.”

  Shaking his head, he kept pace with her, stopping only when she did, when they were both in to hip height. “I don’t know, Canada. You’re looking a little shivery.”

  She splashed him.

  He hadn’t been expecting it, so he inhaled a bunch of water and started coughing.

  She was clearly expecting him to retaliate, because when he was done sputtering, she was bracing herself, half covering her head.

  He walked toward her with his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Can you swim, Canada? Is there enough open water on the frozen tundra up there that they teach you to swim?”

  “I’m from Ontario, Bennett, not the North Pole. Yes, I can swim.”

  With that assurance, he moved like lightning, grabbing her, picking her up, and, as she laughed and shrieked, throwing her in the water.

  She was mad when she resurfaced, but not really. “Hooooboy! You’re in trouble now!”

  And he really was. The joke was on him because of course she’d emerged from the sea drenched, her hair slicked to her body and water coursing over her perfect smooth skin. Because that was what happened when you dunked people under the water—they got wet.

  She came at him and tried to push him over, but she wasn’t strong enough, so he picked her up and tossed her again, a sudden tide of joy, as expansive as the ocean around them, rising in his chest in concert with the splash she made.

  She didn’t give up; after she resurfaced, she launched herself at him. It wasn’t enough. Again he caught her easily, but instead of heaving her back into the ocean, he held on. She struggled and laughed and kept trying to generate enough momentum to tip him. He merely waited her out, laughing along with her, until eventually she gave up and went still in his arms, panting and shivering at the same time.

  It was all he could do not to kiss her. He would have, were it not for the audience on the beach, who were surely already wondering what the hell was going on with them.

  He’d been holding her sideways, her body across his arms the way you would carry a bride over the threshold, but she started squirming, which he took to mean she wanted down. He loosened his grip and prepared to set her down, but she held on tight with her arms while she shimmied her lower body around and, God help him, wrapped her legs around his waist.

  The water made her buoyant, so she didn’t need him to hold her there, but once it was clear she’d reached her desired destination and was staying there, his arms went automatically around her. The bright sunshine illuminated her smattering of freckles. He loved those freckles.

  “Hi.” Her voice was low, even though there was no one around to hear them over the rushing of the surf.

  “Hi,” he echoed, contemplating but ultimately holding himself back from adding I’ve missed you. Because it had been all of eighteen hours since he’d seen her at dinner last night, and all of thirty since they’d woken up together yesterday in South Carolina. Not that he was counting.

  Okay, he was counting.

  She smiled suddenly, like something had pleased her.

  And oh, how he wanted to be that thing.

  Slowly, she slid down his body. He didn’t bother trying to push her away before she hit his erection—that counted as “show her,” right?

  Her sm
ile got wider as she encountered the bump, and even wider still when her feet hit the ground.

  He felt the corners of his mouth quirk up to mirror hers. It was like there was a thread connecting them, and all he could do was echo her: say hi when she said hi, smile when she smiled. He was enchanted by her. There was no other word for it, really. He was—

  “Oooh!”

  While he was mooning over her, she’d hooked her foot around the back of his knees and tripped him. Sent him falling backward into the water, which he proceeded to suck into his lungs as he gasped his shock.

  By the time he recovered, she was walking away. Sashaying, really, smug in her victory. He hurried to catch up to her, intending to retaliate, but she threw him another of those drugging smiles over her shoulder as the water rained off her body and said, “You might have me beat when it comes to brawn, South Carolina, but I outsmarted you there.”

  “You did, Canada. You totally did.”

  “That’s it for me,” she said, her teeth chattering.

  He fell into step beside her as they walked out of the water. “What are you ladies up to this afternoon?”

  “I don’t know.” She squinted against the sun at their friends on the beach. He followed her gaze. They were packing up. “Probably lunch, and then count the minutes until it’s happy hour. I wish I could talk them into a hike, but they’re not going for it. What about you guys?”

  “I don’t know about the others, but I have to go back to the restaurant where I’ll be putting together the wedding lunch. I’m trying to stay out of their way as much as possible, so I’m going to do some prep work in the postlunch lull this afternoon. Most of it I’ll have to save for tomorrow or Saturday morning, but I can pick up some groceries now and stow them there—get things organized.”