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Show Must Go On
Bree kept expecting to get a phone call from someone letting her know that the wedding was off. Either Lilly--or Hank--or if things were really heading the right direction--Trent himself. But the closer it got to the time she was supposed to leave for the rehearsal dinner, the more she began to realize nothing had changed.
She’d done everything she could. She’d gone to Trent, proof in hand, showed it to him, poured her heart out, and it hadn’t been enough.
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Aware that Bree had arrived, Trent did his best not to look at her. He wanted to; he knew she looked gorgeous in that green dress without even turning his head that direction. But Monica didn’t need to know Bree had anything to do with his discovery of her cheating, nor did she need to know that he had feelings for Bree, that he’d been in love with her for at least a decade and wasn’t sure how he’d ever stop loving her, even if he did go through with the wedding.Monica had made more promises in the last few hours than she ever had in the whole
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Hank looked awful. When he walked through the door, Bree felt horrible for being the one to make him look that way. Technically, it was his own fault. He was the one who’d slept with his best friend’s woman. But Bree was the one who’d told Trent about it.It had taken her several minutes to convince him to come to the rehearsal. He’d said he couldn’t face Trent, not at the moment. But Bree had finally talked him into it, reminding him, if she could do it, so could he.
Meant to Marry Me Delayed Decisions
How many times had he listened to Bree play that song over the years? More times than Trent could count. This performance had to be the most beautiful of all, and it had taken everything he had within him to keep from letting the tears stinging the back of his eyes make their way through the stone facade he’d built around himself.What was he doing? How could he stand there and pretend like marrying Monica was a good idea? It was all wrong--all a sham. But walking away would be difficult, too. They had so much time invested in each other… He was in a horr
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The uncomfortable tension between the bride and groom permeated the entire dining room. Bree could feel a crawling in her skin that made every inch of her body itch. All she wanted to do was rip her skin off, but since that wouldn’t solve the problem, she did her best to ignore both of them, praying it would all be over soon, and she could get on a plane back to Nashville and never think about any of these people again.Even the people who had no idea anything had happened between Monica and Trent could still feel the uneasiness around them. They were pretending
Meant to Marry Me Bros
Leaving Monica to fend for herself amongst the crowd of people who were beginning to understand that something wasn’t right didn’t seem like the best idea to Trent, but he found himself headed for the door ten or fifteen minutes after his friends--or should he say former friends?--ducked out.He had no idea where they’d gone, but he figured he’d find them. When he finally caught up to Hank, he was alone. “Hey, where’s Bree?” he asked his best man, who was carrying his shoes, and a half-empty bottle of whisky.
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Before Bree even opened her eyes, a tightening in her stomach reminded her that this was the day she’d been dreading for days--maybe longer than that if she was honest with herself. She’d been dreaming of marrying Trent for a decade, hadn’t she? Now, he was getting married. But not to her.He’d tried to call her the night before. She’d seen a missed call on her phone. And at one point, she thought she’d heard a soft knock on the door. She’d been in the bathtub and hadn’t been sure. When she made it to the door, no one wa
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Bree walked into the chapel and noted her guitar was already in place. She didn’t wait for an usher. Her spot was reserved, so she walked right to it, ignoring all of the other guests. There were several there already, and she heard her name shouted in a familiar voice that was probably Christy, but she didn’t look. She was in performance mode, robot mode, and she didn’t want to lift her eyes to look at anyone or even make small talk and pretend smile. She’d have to talk to Christy later and explain that she just hadn’t heard her, which wasn’t true, but Christy didn’t need to know that.
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The sun was still shining; the waves continued to roll across the shoreline, wetting the sand, and tumbling back out to sea. The seagulls danced and played above her, and the blue sky was vivid and bright, refusing to hide itself in clouds.Bree sunk down in the sand, leaning back against the rocks she’d used as shelter many times that week--a week that had taken on a life of its own, stretching beyond five days into a millennium.
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