When It Holds You

by Nicki Elson

  After a brief set of instructions, including a short tutorial on the various birds and tree lizards they’d likely spot, they harnessed. Since Cliff had the shortest stay in Saint Lucia, he was nominated to go first of his foursome, to be followed by Trish, then Lyssa, with Hayden taking the rear. One by one, they leaped into the canopy.

  The forest filled with screeches—coming from the humans who zoomed above it. A gazillion shades of green blurred below Cliff while feathery rain licked his face. His chest opened wide, soaking it all in and giving his wildly pumping heart room to dance. Moments after he landed on the next platform, Trish touched down with a delicate hop, her eyes sparking with exhilaration. Lyssa and Hayden also arrived flushed from the thrill.

  They jumped again and again. Cliff found slower stretches of the rope course to be even more incredible than the fast ones, allowing him more time to admire the exotic, misty scene. Its serenity was electrified by darting birds shaded in all the colors of the richest rainbow in Oz. He was young and wild and free in the trees. Invincible.

  The continuing drizzle flattened the zip-liners’ hair, giving it an earthy gloss and enhancing the rawness of the experience. Cliff mastered an agile landing, and began to regret that each platform brought him closer to the end of the adventure.

  “Guess that shower was a waste,” Trish said at one landing, producing a hair tie out of nowhere and pushing her wet, darkened hair into a ponytail.

  “You’re beautiful!” Cliff shouted, jumping onto the next line. He marveled at the sense of limitless possibility inspired by this Tarzanian excursion.

  The end of the course found the foursome laughing, still high on adrenaline. A young boy handed out towels so they could dry off on their way to the van, where the driver gave each of them a bottle of icy cold beer.

  “You the man,” Hayden told him, grabbing a bottle and sliding into the backseat.

  On the way to the resort, they relived the experience and laughed more, especially at the memory of Lyssa stopping short on a landing to avoid smashing a gecko, only to have Hayden knock into her from behind. The force of the collision had sent them both flying toward the poor lizard, which only narrowly escaped. Hayden and Lyss were fun to hang out with, Cliff thought as he sipped his beer. He could easily see himself fitting into this foursome on a permanent basis.

  The illusion of being Trish’s boyfriend continued in the hotel room. Getting ready for the wedding in the shared space felt natural. She was obviously comfortable with him, too, stepping out from the bathroom in only her bra and underwear. When Cliff raised an eyebrow, she asked, “What’s the difference between this and my bikini?”

  He shrugged and knotted his tie. Helms is a moron to leave this door open for me.

  Out on the beach, the rain had stopped. Early arrivals to the ceremony stood and socialized behind rows of white chairs. While Zach told Cliff all about the huge fish he’d caught earlier that day, Trish stood several feet away, chatting with other friends. She glanced over and caught Cliff staring. Brushing a wisp of her silky hair behind her ear, she smiled.

  Screw patience, Cliff thought, nodding along with whatever Zach was saying but only thinking of Trish. He wouldn’t encourage her to cheat on Helms, but at some point that evening, when the moment was right, he’d tell her how he felt. She needed to know.

  While he kept his eyes locked on her, Trish flicked her gaze to something beyond his shoulder. Her eyebrows drew together. Cliff turned to see a tall, thin blond man step off the wide stairs that led from the resort’s back patio to the beach. Every smooth fiber of his peacock-blue suit moved with him, as if it were organically part of his body. Like everyone else, he was barefoot on the sand, his finely tailored pants cuffed.

  In Cliff’s mind, the guy also rode a virile, white stallion and had a head full of flowing Fabio hair. He didn’t know what imaginary accoutrements Trish had attached to the man, but after a few scant seconds of hesitation, she took off running toward him. Adam Helms’s aristocratic mouth spread into a wide smile. He held his arms out, catching her when she jumped into them. Every single wedding guest watched the Hollywood ending play out before them; some even cheered.

  “Sorry, man,” Hayden murmured, stepping behind Cliff.

  The sound of Trish’s far-off laughter as she touched kiss after kiss upon her boyfriend’s face plunged through Cliff’s heart and sliced straight down his abdomen. Helms may as well have been armed with a broadsword. Cliff’s bloody insides spilled onto the beach, and all he could do was stare at his assailant.

  Lyssa stepped in front of him, drawing his attention from the happy couple. “Pull it together, man.” Her whisper came out as a hiss.

  Cliff wondered how bad he must look for Lyssa to sound so panicked. Gulls swooped to pick at his phantom guts lying raw on the sand. He forced a tight grin. “I’m fine. Though sleeping arrangements just got awkward.”

  “You can stay with us,” Lyssa said, shooting a hard glance at Hayden, as if warning her boyfriend not to oppose.

  “Yeah, ’cause that’ll be so much less awkward.” Cliff took in Lyssa’s concerned expression and attempted a more reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’m caught off guard, is all. But I’ll be fine. I always am.” The last words tasted as bitter as they sounded.

  Lyssa’s eyes shifted away from him. He followed their path to see Trish and Adam approach with their hands fused together.

  “Everyone, this is Adam,” Trish said. Several guests exchanged hellos with him and then returned to their own conversations. Trish pulled her boyfriend over to Cliff’s small group. “Adam, this is my best friend, Lyssa, and her boyfriend Hayden.”

  “I recognize you from pictures,” Adam said, reaching first for Lyssa’s hand, then Hayden’s.

  “You probably remember Cliff,” Trish added. Her eyes barely skipped over him before her attention returned fully to Adam. Either Cliff was doing an amazing job of disguising his pain or Trish hadn’t paid enough attention to notice.

  “I owe you everything for directing me to her that day.” Adam shook Cliff’s hand.

  Damn his firm grip and mesmerizing eyes. “You’d have found her without my help.”

  “I suppose nothing would’ve kept me from it,” Adam agreed, “but I appreciate your kindness, nonetheless.” With his hands now free, he slid one around Trish’s waist and planted his dreamy gaze on her.

  Cliff fought the scowl he felt forming across his brow.

  “We didn’t expect to get to meet you this weekend,” Lyssa said.

  “It’s amazing how fast one can work with proper motivation,” Helms responded. “I knew getting here at some point was a possibility, but I didn’t want to make a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.”

  Trish took a break from beaming at Helms and turned to Cliff. “Adam was able to book us a suite, so you can have the old room all to yourself.”

  “Great.” Cliff was spared from having to say more by the soft strums of an acoustic guitar. It was time for the guests to take their seats.

  In his current state of shock, he didn’t think to maneuver away from Trish as they filed into the rows of chairs. He ended up sitting next to her. While Sam and Danny declared their love and devotion to each other, his gaze riveted on Trish’s fingertips rubbing slow circles on Helms’s knee. He watched Helms cover her long, pretty fingers with his, and he watched her grasp him back.

  When the newlyweds made their debut down the aisle, everyone stood to cheer them on. Cliff had no idea how he was going to make it through the next seventeen hours of being trapped in this revolting pit of amore. He considered making up an excuse to take off for the airport immediately. Surely there was at least one more flight heading his way that night. But leaving now would be so obvious…and pathetic. He’d be a grownup and stick it out.

  An informal receiving line formed on the beach. From there, guests were directed up the steps and across the patio to a garden, where they sipped Bellini cocktails in tall, skinny glasses. Cliff made his way to a
group of people he’d knocked around on boogie boards the day before. He joined the conversation and gave it all his focus. The longer he could avoid looking directly into the Trish-Adam eclipse, the better.

  As he drained his peach and Prosecco, he struggled to keep his devastation from evolving into anger. Trish had never offered anything more than a fun weekend as friends. I’m the idiot who painted it into something more…again. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

  “Hey.” It was Trish. “I told Sam I was bringing a plus-one, not a plus-two, so—”

  “I’ll leave,” Cliff said too quickly.

  “No! That’s not what I’m saying. Sheesh, Cliff, give me some credit. I was trying to tell you that Adam’s arranging for a romantic dinner for two in the suite.”

  “That’s awfully nice of him, but I hardly know the guy. Not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Trish shook her head and smiled. “The private dinner’s for him and me, smartass. It seems like you’re more than comfortable with this crowd, so you don’t mind me abandoning you for a bit, do you? We’ll be back for dancing.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I always am, he reminded himself.

  Her smile widened and she reached out to squeeze his hand. “I still can’t believe he’s here!”

  Cliff hid his misery in an exaggerated schoolgirl squeal to match hers. “Me neither!”

  She laid her shiny lips on his cheek in a quick, grateful kiss and left. He headed straight to the bar to order a vodka tonic with a twist of lime, light on the tonic. Two glasses later, he and the other wedding guests were ushered through wide arches into a large, open dining room painted in muted corals and blues. Cliff was directed to a round table, where he sat next to Lyssa. Besides Hayden, they were also joined by JoAnne, Amy, Zach, his wife Shay, and an empty chair.

  As giant platters of fish, stuffed pork chops, and colorful vegetables circled the table, the group chat split into individual conversations. Cliff asked Lyssa about her MBA program at Boston University, and they compared notes on grad school. During a pause to chew, he noted the others were immersed in their own conversations, enough so they probably wouldn’t overhear his.

  “What made you switch to Team Cliff?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Hayden told me you’re Team Cliff, not Team Adam. Why? Last spring when you were in town, you were all over Trish to give Helms a chance.”

  “I wasn’t all over her. I just thought since she couldn’t get past him, maybe that meant there was still something there worth exploring.”

  “And why aren’t you on his team anymore?”

  “Well…” Her eyes darted about, as if carefully choosing her next words. “When he’d backed out earlier in the week, I was worried. I thought it meant he wasn’t as into her as she’s into him. But him coming today changed everything.” She shoved a forkful of spiced salmon into her mouth. It seemed to Cliff she’d used the fish as a cork to stop more words from pouring forth.

  “How does his arrival change anything? He still showed up two days late and let her think he wasn’t coming at all. That’s a jerk move, isn’t it?” Cliff didn’t like the pity-filled look that took over Lyssa’s expression.

  Swallowing, she reached for her glass of water and took a gulp before responding. “This is the first time I’ve ever met him or seen them together. All I’ve had up until now is Trish’s side of the story. I couldn’t be sure how he felt about her until I got a good look at him.”

  “And?”

  “He adores her. And she’s in way deeper than I suspected. I’ve never seen her like this before. Sorry, but it’s game over for you, buddy.” She pushed her lips into a compassionate pout.

  Cliff downed an inch of his drink and shrugged. “C’est la vie. But hey, I’m in the Caribbean surrounded by a slew of gorgeous women—and now I’ve got a private room to invite them into. Things could be worse.” He said it as much to convince himself as to convince Lyssa.

  “That’s the spirit.” Hayden leaned forward, reaching his glass past his girlfriend to tap it to Cliff’s.

  “Were you listening the whole time?” Lyssa asked.

  “Only since game over,” Hayden answered. “But I like what I heard. Let me know if you need a wingman, Clifford. I’ve been out of practice for a while, but the fine art of picking up women is like riding a bike.”

  Lyssa chuffed. “Don’t forget whose help you needed to get a first date with your girlfriend before me.” She turned to Cliff. “I’m a much better wingman. Let me know who you like, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Cliff’s eyes traveled across the table to her cute blond friend. He only vaguely remembered her from college, but he liked her bubbly vibe. He imagined her smooth, sun-kissed skin smelled like sunshine and wildflowers. “What’s Amy’s story?”

  “Married,” Lyssa said. “Her husband’s stuck in California for the weekend.”

  “Oh, right. Trish mentioned something about that.” His gaze skipped past Jo, not even considering her as a possibility. Their mutual dislike was obvious. “I’ll let you know when I’ve acquired a new target.”

  He spent the next couple of hours cruising between the dance floor and the bar, polishing off a new drink during every lap. He struck up several flirty conversations and even coaxed a few women onto the dance floor. None of them stuck, however. It seemed the young, hot, and single had already coupled off during the two days before the wedding. After five or ten minutes under Cliff’s charms, the other guy would turn up and that would end the flirtation.

  He saw no sign of Trish and Helms until late into the night. They held each other close on the dance floor, swaying to a slow song. Cliff closed one eye to bring them into focus, unsure whether he actually saw them or if it was his subconscious playing tricks. He’d much rather see them on the dance floor than imagine them still up in the suite, going at it in a marathon session. The amazing Adam Helms probably had the stamina of Superman.

  Grunting, Cliff veered away from the dance floor and tottered outside onto the terrace, not stopping until he reached a low wall overlooking the beach. He hadn’t been this drunk in a while. His thoughts wandered in their own direction, and he had little control over them. The more he tried not to think about Helms’s fingers caressing Trish’s long, lean thighs, his mouth roving her flawless, perky breasts, the more the unwanted visuals wallpapered his brain cells.

  “I’ve gotta get laid,” he said aloud. His eyes flicked back and forth to make sure no one was close enough to have heard. Just then, a cackle floated over the stone patio from around a corner of the building. He recognized the distinctive laugh from the day before in the Caribbean Sea. JoAnne. Maybe for old time’s sake…

  He pushed back from the wall and turned toward the sound. From what he remembered, she’d been fun in bed. Energetic. He couldn’t recall exactly what they’d done to each other or in what position, but he remembered she’d been loud. It had embarrassed him, made him worry that everyone in the building would hear. But it had also excited him that he could inspire such unbridled ecstasy. His dick stiffened just thinking about it.

  Why not? he thought, moving across the patio and discarding his reasons for avoiding her earlier. In his current state of inebriation, the fact that she’d likely rip his head off when he propositioned her made him oddly more aroused. He’d learned a few new skills since they’d last known each other—lawyering skills. He wasn’t a trial lawyer, but he knew his way around an argument. Debate was one of his strongpoints. It’d be easy to get her to see that coming back to his room was in her best interests. He’d make her want it. He’d make her beg for it.

  His lips spread into a drunken sneer at these arrogant thoughts as he rounded the corner. A flash of white gave him an instant of sobriety. Jo’s hands gripped at the white blob—the back of a waiter’s vest. The man was plastered against Jo, pressing her to a wall. She hitched one leg around the guy’s rocking hips. With the way the two of them sucked each other’s faces, Cliff couldn’t mak
e out their features. The only way he knew for sure it was JoJo was because he recognized her tacky flowered flip-flops that clashed with her too-tight dress.

  Cliff pivoted, going back inside and straight to the bar, where he set down his glass and asked for an ice water. He gulped that down and avoided eye contact with anyone as he beelined through the restaurant, onto the elevator, and into his room. Once in private, he lowered to the bed, slipping out of his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt. He hadn’t noticed how muggy it had been downstairs until the conditioned air cooled the thin layer of perspiration coating his skin.

  “Preempted from a sure thing by the waiter,” he muttered to himself. “But only after being preempted from confessing my feelings to the love of my life by Rico Suave.” Clawing his fingers up his forehead and into his semi-damp hair, he fell backward onto the bed. “This has to be an all-time low.”

  He hoped to drift into a peaceful sleep, but his spinning head prevented that. He rolled off the bed and opened his laptop. He’d brought it in case any work emergencies came up. Instead, he’d use it to watch a movie until sleep overtook him. After stripping down to his boxers, he set the computer on the bed and settled next to it.

  Clicking around didn’t reveal any enticing options. He wasn’t in the mood for anything that would require too much thinking, but nothing in the brainless category appealed to him, either. His thoughts kept reverting to Trish. Last time, he’d recovered from his heartache with the help of beautiful, computer-generated ladies in his gameplay. Romancing them had shown him how foolish it was to waste his efforts on an unpredictable real girl. And how had he repaid their virtual healing? By neglecting them for the past several weeks.

  He’d gotten busy at work, too busy for more than an occasional dip into a game here and there. Without his lovely characters to satisfy his romantic fancies, he’d fallen right back into the Trish trap. He didn’t have any games loaded onto his work computer. If he did, he’d have jumped into one right then for a virtual hookup.