When It Holds You

by Nicki Elson

  He struggled with how to answer Jo’s question. She’d just laid her fears bare—he didn’t want to confirm them by speaking his thoughts out loud. He also didn’t want to convince her to trust him when he wasn’t sure he trusted himself.

  “Your hesitation says it all.” Jo stretched her fingers over her knees, her knuckles bulging as if she were gripping to save her life. As she trained her eyes on him, her sadness glazed over with hostility. “We’re done here.”

  Cliff let out a hot breath, his emotions also shifting toward rancor. He’d tried patience and understanding, but that hadn’t worked. “So that’s it. You’re ending this? All these months of building something—something I honest to God thought was real—and you get a little insecure so it’s, Shebam, buh-bye, Cliffy?”

  “I don’t remember ever saying, Shebam. And trust me, I’ll never call you Cliffy.” Every insolent syllable reminded him of the old JoJo, the woman he couldn’t stand to be around.

  He let out a bitter grunt. His next words were aimed to hurt her as much as she was hurting him. “Good. Trish is the only one who could ever get away with calling me that anyway.”

  Jo gasped, her mouth dropping open as her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you go on back to her, then, jackass? And take that fucking coconut cake with you. I hate coconut!” As she shouted, she fumbled with her legs, uncrossing them and standing as she flung her arm toward the door.

  “I can’t go back to her. She’s gone!” He surrendered to irritation. It was so much easier than trying to negotiate the melancholy ache of just moments ago. “She never was mine. She’ll never be mine. I thought I could have something with you, but I guess I was lying to myself about that, too!”

  A soft tapping sounded from the other side of the door, and Cliff stopped his rant. “Is everything okay in there?” Jo’s roommate asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Jo said, her voice softer as she shifted her focus to the door. “We’re just having an argument. Sorry. We’ll keep it down.”

  Cliff felt like an ass. Everything that had happened since he’d stepped through Jo’s front door had tossed him off-kilter. An hour ago, his world had been perfect, and now…now he didn’t want to think about how the night would end.

  JoJo’s eyes again locked on his. While they stared at each other in silence, a wild intensity flamed in her pale gray irises. Cliff couldn’t decipher its meaning, but it made his heart pump harder—like it could dent him from the inside.

  “So now what?” he asked.

  “Now this.” In swift, panther-like steps she moved to him. Running her hands up his chest, she pushed back, pressing him against the door while she attached her mouth to his, sucking, licking, and biting.

  He lunged into her, running his hands over the lush curves of her backside, as if gripping onto her could help him get a grasp on the confusion that raged through him. While their mouths tangled, her fingers pushed under his shirt, clawing into his chest hair. A moan rattled deep within her throat.

  Cliff groaned into her mouth when she reached in his pants and latched onto him. Her practiced hand pumped and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure to turn his brain into jelly. Her lips moved to his chest, kissing and licking her way down until she was on her knees. When her tongue darted into his navel, he threaded his fingers through her auburn strands and pulled her head back so that her face angled up toward him.

  “Are we good?” he asked. Even amid his fervor, he needed to know.

  A sardonic smirk curled one corner of her mouth. “Does it matter?” She tilted her head and opened wide, readying to take him. He tightened his grip at her scalp and held her back, ignoring the urge to pull her plump lips around him. She shot an angry glance upward.

  “It matters to me. Are we good?” he repeated.

  “I’m good at this, so why don’t you let me?”

  All the energy that had been throbbing in his crotch regrouped and climbed back to his skull. When he and Jo had made love the past weekend, he’d never felt closer to anyone. Now, as he looked at this woman at his feet, he didn’t even know who she was.

  “Not like this.” He moved her hand off of him, and pulled up his briefs. Suddenly, the idea of letting her suck on him was revolting.

  “I’m not even good enough to be your fuck buddy?”

  “This isn’t you. You’re acting insane.” He zipped his pants.

  She sat back on her heels and looked down at the floor. “This might not be who you want me to be, but it’s exactly who I am.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  She looked up at him, a glassy sheen again covering her eyes. “I know. But it’s who I’ll turn back into if I stay with you.”

  “So just like that, you’re breaking up with me?” This had to be the sharpest downward spiral of any of his failed relationships.

  “I wasn’t ready to jump into something so serious so fast. I’m sorry.” Her forehead pinched, and the sincerity in her voice brought all his tenderness rushing forward.

  “Jo, we’re good together. Everything was great until tonight. We can work this out. Let me show you how amazing you are. Please, tell me what I can do to get us back to where we were.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too late for that. The best thing you can do for me right now is to leave.”

  Chapter 20

  “LET’S RESCHEDULE THE DINNER for another night somewhere else,” Karen said. Cliff had just told her about the breakup.

  “Nothing’s getting rescheduled. You worked your ass off for this partnership, and we’re celebrating at the Robb Inn—tonight. She probably won’t even be there since she knows I’m coming.”

  Cliff and Jo had decided on the menu and other details before they’d broken up, so they hadn’t had to discuss the event—or anything else—since that awful night at her place. He’d respected her request and left without further discussion, but he’d asked her to call him if, in the light of the new day, she changed her mind. That had been a week ago, and he hadn’t heard a word from her since.

  “I guess this explains why you’ve been sulking around here like one of the stalking dead.”

  “Walking Dead.”

  The tenacious blonde ignored his correction. “I’ve seriously had to stop myself from offering you my concealer stick to hide those dark shadows under your eyes. What did she do to you?”

  “Nothing that hasn’t been done before.” He tapped the edge of the file he held onto his desk, eager for the conversation to end.

  “Too bad. You two seemed nutty on love at the gala.” His expression must’ve reflected the sick pit her words dug into his gut, because she quickly followed with, “Sorry. Do you…would you like my blessing to call Patty?”

  The offer that would’ve made him happy months ago now carried no appeal. “Thanks, but no. Not in the mood for dating right now. Just going to focus on my job.”

  Karen leaned on his door jamb, crossing her arms and watching him. “I guess that’s in my best interests, so I’ll leave it alone. You sure you don’t want to cancel the dinner and move it somewhere else?”

  “I’m sure. Thank you for your concern. Now get the hell out of here so I can get some work done.”

  She smirked and stood straight. “That’s more like it.”

  After his mentor left, Cliff returned his attention to the files on his desk. Immersing in the intricacies of corporate law was the only activity that took his mind off Jo. He’d tried escaping into virtual worlds, but that only brought PlanetClaire to the forefront of his mind. He missed her.

  Chicago had finally given way to warm, sunny days. In the afternoon, he decided fresh air would do him good and set off on a brief walk. He turned away from Grant Part, not wanting to see the fountain. In a way, he almost wished he had ruined things with Jo the day he’d given her wardrobe advice—it would’ve saved him from falling in even deeper.

  He soon realized it didn’t matter which direction he went. Something would always pop up to remind him o
f her. As he passed office buildings and storefronts along the clogged, exhaust-filled streets, he crossed in front of a familiar jewelry store. He’d probably peered absently through the glossy glass a hundred times before, but on this day, something in the window drew his focus. He zeroed in on a diamond pendant, stopping to stare at it.

  The jewel was cut into an egg shape. Swirling threads of gold curved around it, holding the diamond in an organic cage. Its oblong contours reminded him of the treasure Loinerd and PlanetClaire had rescued from the palace in Castleabra. The gem also made him think of Jo saying she’d probably never get another diamond.

  Cliff had been given clues to the Achilles heel of her self-esteem all along, but he hadn’t paid them much attention. He’d assumed that with enough positive support, she’d come to see herself the way he did. But it wasn’t that simple.

  He wished she’d stop shutting him out, but until he was sure he wouldn’t have a relapse with Trish, he couldn’t push her to let him back in. He and Trish had exchanged a few texts during the past week, but he hadn’t mentioned the breakup. That was for Jo to share in whatever level of detail she wished.

  That evening, he approached the turreted stone mansion of the Robb Inn with anticipation, curious to see where Jo worked. The wide steps leading to the front door were flanked by substantial twin urns overflowing with blooms and trailing vines. Beyond the leaded glass and oak front doors, he found a stately yet cozy interior with dark woodwork and muted, oversized patterns covering the walls.

  A thin young man in a navy-blue suit stood behind a small podium. Cliff glanced around but saw no sign of Jo. He thought of asking the guy at the desk if she was there but didn’t see what knowing that would accomplish. Instead, he simply told him he was with the Keefer party.

  “Right this way.” The host led him past a wooden staircase and down a long hall.

  Cliff admired the vintage black-and-white photos that hung along the way and wondered if they were just for decoration or if the people in them had a history with the place. Some of the rooms they passed were lightly occupied while others were filled with patrons. At the back of the mansion, they turned a corner. Wide French doors looked out upon a garden with a big tent set up along one side. A flurry of activity buzzed underneath the white canvas in preparation for an upcoming event. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might’ve caught a flash of Jo’s reddish locks amid the workers.

  Being in this place where his ex-girlfriend spent so much of her time incited a fresh wave of regret. Jo had never talked much about work, and now Cliff wished he’d pried a little more. The Robb Inn was a big part of her life, and knowing more about it would’ve helped him know her better. Not that it mattered anymore.

  At last, the skinny host gestured Cliff into a high-ceilinged room just big enough to fit the group of twenty-four. About half the guests had arrived. The woman of the hour came over immediately.

  “I want you at my table, Walsh.” Karen gestured to a long rectangular table. Four smaller square tables were arranged around it. At the center of the back wall was a fireplace with a carved stone mantle. An efficient waitress sashayed over to take his drink order, and soon Cliff was mixing and mingling with his River South colleagues.

  It wasn’t until after they were seated and salads had been served that Cliff confirmed his JoJo sighting. She appeared at the opening to the room, her eyes scanning the group. In a crisp, white button-down shirt and black slacks that traced her figure, she looked sleek, professional—and beautiful. She’d pinned her hair into a twist at the nape of her neck, letting loose tendrils curve around her jaw.

  Motioning to a nearby waitress, she gave some sort of instruction, then moved to the big table. Her eyes landed on Cliff and she smiled, shifting her focus to Karen a moment later. “Congratulations.”

  While the two women exchanged greetings, Cliff tried to recall whether or not he’d returned the smile. The only sensation he’d been aware of while looking her full in the face had been the quivering tickle in his stomach.

  “Everything is absolutely lovely,” he heard Karen say.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” JoAnne said. “The staff here will take good care of you, but if there’s anything at all you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’ll send out a round of complimentary champagne during dessert.” She smiled at the guests in general, barely glancing toward Cliff, and left the room.

  Karen locked eyes on Cliff, who sat directly across from her. “We’ve got to figure out how to get that one back.”

  He pressed his lips into a tight smile and took a long sip of Bordeaux.

  Later, as the main course plates were being cleared, a familiar blond beauty stuck her pretty head into the room. Trish held a finger to her lips when Cliff spotted her. On tiptoes, she crept up behind Karen and set a dainty silver tiara on her head. Lifting her hands to the crown, Karen spun around, letting out a sharp squeal when she saw Trish. The shorter woman shot up to standing, and the two of them hugged. As far as Cliff knew, they hadn’t seen each other since Trish had left her receptionist position at River South a year earlier.

  “I know I’m intruding,” Trish said, releasing her. “But Cliff mentioned the celebration, and I just had to stop by to say congrats. I miss you, woman!”

  “We’ll make that lunch date happen one of these days. You’re just in time for dessert. Please stay.” Karen flagged down the waitress, keeping the crooked tiara tangled in her short locks. “Can we get another chair?”

  When the server left to inquire about a chair, Karen ordered Cliff and senior partner Michael Gutierrez next to him to slide apart and make room. Trish exchanged happy hellos with the others as she made her way around the table.

  “Hope you’re not mad,” she said to Cliff when she finally slid into the new chair next to him.

  “I should’ve thought to invite you in the first place,” he said.

  “Yeah, you should’ve.” She scratched her fingers back and forth through the short hair at the back of his head. “Hey!” Her attention had been caught by something beyond the threshold of the room.

  Cliff looked up to see JoJo in the hallway. She looked over, and Trish slipped her arm around Cliff’s shoulder, leaning in close to him and waving across the room. Jo’s face froze for a moment, then she pulled on a strained smile. Giving only a cursory wave, she turned and walked out of view.

  “I’m so excited you two are together.” Trish gave Cliff’s cheek a small pat before unwinding her arm from around him.

  He blew out a breath and took another long sip, draining his glass for the second time that evening. “We broke up.”

  Her glossy grin went slack. “No.”

  “It’s true,” Karen said.

  Cliff snapped his gaze to see his mentor giving Trish a somber nod. He hadn’t realized she’d been listening to their conversation.

  “Would it kill you to give me priority news flashes on your fluctuating relationship status?” Trish asked. “I feel like an asshole, draped all over you and rubbing it in her face. Why didn’t you reschedule the dinner somewhere else, you heartless creep?”

  “That’s exactly what I suggested,” Karen said.

  Cliff caught their waitress’s attention and shook his empty glass in the air, ordering another.

  “What happened?” Trish asked.

  “He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Karen explained.

  “It’d be nice if you two didn’t talk about it, either.” Cliff let his irritation show. “Especially when she’s in the building. I’m sorry you didn’t know, Trish. I figured Jo would’ve told you.”

  “I’m sorry you guys didn’t work out,” Trish said in a quieter voice, frowning and leaning back in her chair.

  “Me, too.” He gave a small shrug, relieved to see the server already returning with his drink.

  Other table conversations drew Karen and Trish’s attention, and Cliff settled back with his wine. With Trish only inches away, her dusty floral fragrance enveloped him. He t
hought back to countless other occasions when he’d been in this very same position. Even while firmly in the friend zone with her, this kind of physical closeness had always incited small fantasies.

  On this night, however, his most dominant emotion toward her was annoyance. Only she would strut unabashedly into a dinner party to which she wasn’t invited. Though she was oblivious to her interference in his relationship, he was frustrated with her for ruining the great thing he’d had going with JoJo. As if she hadn’t already done enough damage to his heart.

  The sharp anguish he’d suffered each time Trish had rejected him was so different from what he felt now with Jo. This wasn’t pain, exactly; it was more like a hollow ache. With Trish, half the agony had come from accepting a conclusion he’d always known was inevitable. With Jo, the separation felt…wrong. His romantic hopes toward Trish had only ever been infatuation, an illusion. What he felt for Jo was real.

  Throughout dessert, he kept watch on the hallway, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. Trish must’ve noticed. “Should I go talk to her?” she asked.

  “No,” Cliff said, making an impulsive decision. “I will.” He tossed his napkin onto the table and stood, pushing back his chair. Without another word, he crossed the room.

  Once he entered the hallway and saw no sign of Jo, he second-guessed the wisdom of talking to her—so he kept walking, not giving himself a chance to back out. He didn’t know what he’d say, only knew he needed to see her. He reached the host stand at the front of the house.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where JoAnne, the events director, is?”

  “JoJo?”

  Cliff smiled. “Yes.”

  “I think I just saw her go up to her office. Let me try her there.” He picked up a phone and pressed a few buttons. “Hi. Someone at the restaurant desk would like to see you. A mister…” He looked at Cliff.

  “Walsh.”

  “Walsh,” the host repeated. “Mhmm. Yes. Okay.” He hung up. “She’ll be down.”