Even better, this meant if he was alive, there was a chance Catalina was too. He only wished her location wasn’t an absolute mystery to him.
Limping his way to where the brush cleared, Trey found himself in the open and was able get a good view of the area.
In the distance was the man with the dolly, continuing to make his way down the pathway while bopping his head, none the wiser he had managed to lose two whole people he never knew existed. It was strange to think the man might go home later, have his significant other ask how his day had been and he’d only answer,Fine, because, from his perspective, it had been.
Trey’s day was about as far from fine as it could be. He had no idea of his own whereabouts, and, even worse, Catalina wasn’t near his side. Maybe she was still safe inside the box. As horrifying as it was to be cut off and alone, it was better than the alternative. If she was flung out as well but wasn’t lucky enough to land on top of…he turned to inspect the weird jungle he’d emerged from. There was a lot of it, and he finally put together it was a type of seaweed.
Last month, he’d bragged to his brother that he and Catalinahadwon the raffle and were taking a romantic trip to Cancun. John had mentioned that he heard they were having a bad seaweed season. Treydidn’t even know seaweed had a season. His brother mentioned the type of seaweed by name. It was sar…something. Sargasm? The word sounded as if someone had merged sarcastic and orgasm into a single word. Had Catalina ever sarcastically orgasmed with him? What would that even look like? But this wasn’t the right word. It was sarga…something—well, whatever. It was seaweed, and it stunk, and he hadn’t paid much attention to it when he was regular size. Except he had noticed a few beach maintenance guys scooping up the stuff, because apparently cleaning seaweed from the beach was a real job when they were having a bad seaweed season.
Anyway, he’d rather Catalina be safe inside the box and not potentially injured out here with him in a jungle of smelly seaweed. Even so, his situation sucked. When they were together, he felt as if things were still possible, even in a position as dire as this one. Alone, he was already wondering what the point was. There was no way to get to her or for her to find him. His earlier proclamation to fix their relationship felt no more possible than a far-fetched wish made while blowing out a birthday candle. He’d never see her again, never have a chance to make her orgasm, sarcastically or not, never get to hear her voice—
“Treeeeeeeyyyy!” The cry was more of a sob of desperation, and it stopped him in his tracks. “TREEEEEEEYYYYY!”
“Cat?” He couldn’t believe it. Turning around, he ran along the edge of the seaweed toward the cries, not caring about the slight pain in his leg. “CAT!” heshouted, his throat burning from pushing his vocal cords to their capacity. “Cat! Baby! Talk to me! Where are you?”
“Trey? Trey!”
Her voice was closer as he ripped through the mass of seaweed, his determined desire to get to her overtaking everything else. They called each other’s names in a survival version of Marco Polo until he suddenly saw her fighting off vines clinging to her limbs. Her hair was tangled in it, her cover-up dress was dirty, and her shoes were missing. Catalina looked wild as she jerked and ripped her limbs away as though she was in a battle with the seaweed. She’d temporarily escape from one situation only to fall into another tangled mass as she kept losing her footing.
His heart jumped, never so happy to see the fighting spirit of his wife alive and well. “Cat!”
Her bewildered gaze caught his, her mouth dropping open as she took a shuddering breath. “Trey?”
He couldn’t stop himself. Trey strode to her, untangling her enough that he could scoop her into his arms, lifting her to his chest. He needed to hold her, to make sure she was safe, and carry her from the jungle. And it wasn't because he thought she couldn't make it on her own. Hell, he knew better than anyone that if there was a person who could thrive on pure spite and fire, it was Catalina. It was more that he needed to feel the weight of her close to his own body, to know she was here and he wasn’t stranded in this place by himself. Maybe she felt the same because her armswrapped around him and clung to his shoulders, her face burrowing into his neck. Soon his skin became wet with her silent, hot tears.
As soon as they got most of the way past the edge of the seaweed, his shaky legs gave out and he dropped to the ground, still clutching his wife to him. He ran his hands over her hair and body, hoping she’d find some reassurance in the gesture and providing the same to himself. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Trey needed to check her for injuries, but, for now, this felt enough. He could hold her close and ease her trembling with his own body.
“That…was…terrifying.” Her words were interrupted with heavy breaths that were on the edge of becoming sobs again. “You know I don’t like flying. I hate it. I never want to fly again.”
Oh God. Poor Cat. She’d always been a terrible flier. Even on their flight to Cancun she had barely talked and had nervously chewed through a whole pack of gum. He hated with every fiber of his being that she had to experience this. He brushed his fingers over her head and pressed his lips to her temple. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry. But you’re okay. You’re okay now.”
She sniffled. “I told you that being on that box flap wasn’t a good idea.”
He chuckled at this. “Okay, but I didn’t tell you to go onto the box flap with me.”
With these words, soft, vulnerable Cat disappeared. She pulled away, glaring at him before shoving her way out of his arms. “Ugh, you drive me—I didn’twantyouon the box flap either! When are you going to stop making rash decisions like that? You’re going to get us both killed.” She stood and stomped away from him, walking along the seaweed’s edge, her arms crossed tightly across her torso, not going toward anywhere in particular, but just away from him.
Trey wasn’t taking any more chances of them being separated again. He followed after her, not quite seeing how he was one hundred percent in the wrong here, especially since he wasn’t the one who was almost run over by a dolly wheel earlier. “So, what are we supposed to do? Just sit in a box and wait for someone to notice us?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t see how any of your ideas are going to make the situation better.”
“All I’m trying to do is save us,” he replied, imploring her to see that he’d take any kind of risk if it meant helping her.
She scoffed. “And how are we going to be saved if you’re not being smart about it?”
This stopped him and his steps faltered.
While he’d been teased over the years by friends and family for always being the brawn in the equation and never the brains, it had been something he’d gotten used to. For Catalina to imply it, and not as a friendly joke, hit him harder. He often wondered why she no longer wanted him to escort her to any of her work’s fancy PR functions and fundraisers, telling him she was mainly making contacts and getting commitments from people. There was no reason for him to go to something where he’d only be bored, shehad insisted. The wheels in his mind had been turning for a while. Perhaps her reasoning went deeper. Maybe she was afraid he’d say something ridiculous, somethingnot smart, and embarrass himself or, worse, embarrass her.
Whipping around to face him, there was no trace of tears in sight anymore. She seemed unaware of how her previous words had struck him in the gut. “This isn’t a superhero movie, Trey. This isn’t about you saving the day and ending up with the girl. We’re in a life-and-death situation here, and the odds are stacked against us. Everything and anything can kill us. The only thing we can do is utilize what we have, which isn’t much. But we do have each other, so it’s not just one set of ideas but us working together to come up with a good plan. Maybe then we’ll find a way to come out on the other side of this.”
She punctuated the next sentence by pressing a finger into his chest. “But if you think I’m just going to keep following you around as you try one risky thing after another, I’m not. That was the last time.”
He laid his hand over hers, and some of the previous sting he felt dissipated because the main thing he heard was the word “together,” and this was something he could work with. “Okay. I get it.”
“I’m serious. You keep doing this, and there won’t be anyone to rescue. We just have to make sure—” She yanked her hand away, her eyes searching the length of him before she frowned. “Where the hell is my bag?”
“Oh, uh…” He hadn’t noticed it had gone missing from his torso. “I think it got ripped off when I fell.”
