A horrible ache started in the pit of her stomach and rapidly spiraled through her inner organs out through her extremities until Bree’s entire body seemed to be on fire from the inside out. “Wait--what?” Maybe she hadn’t heard Trent correctly. Maybe this was all a joke. Hank was known for being a prankster. “Excuse me?”The fact that Trent’s blue eyes were focused on his shoes let her know she had heard him correctly, though. This wasn’t an awful dream. This was reality. He was marrying Monica Edge. “It’s me

Bree looked crestfallen, her eyes downcast, lost and out of place. Trent hated that he was the one who’d made her look that way. She was even more beautiful now than she had been the last time he’d seen her, that day at the convenience store when he’d insisted on stopping, despite his then-girlfriend’s objections. He’d seen Bree’s car, knew she was in town for Christy’s party, and wanted to see her even though he knew it wasn’t in his best interest.He hadn’t regretted seeing her, only that she didn’t want to

The beach was everything Bree had hoped it would be and then some. Lying on a towel in her two-piece, watching the clouds trace across the sky, feeling the warm sea breeze while the relaxing scent of the ocean filled her lungs had Bree feeling calmer than she had in as long as she could remember, certainly since before she’d realized Trent was getting married.Seeing him that morning brought a new perspective to her. He was the same Trent he’d always been, her friend from high school, the one who always cheered her on, made her smile, knew her better than

“Man, that’s bullshit,” Hank was saying as he and Bree walked home. The streets were a little crowded around the club, but once they got closer to the resort, there were less people, and Bree felt herself sobering up with the beach air in her lungs.“I mean, I guess I can’t blame her for being upset. I’d be upset if my fiancé was dancing with someone else, too. I guess.”

Dozens of hunky, shirtless guys on the beach, and all Bree could think about was one of them--the one she couldn’t have. The night before on the phone, Christy had asked if Matt and Dwayne were still hot. Now, seeing them in swimming trunks with the early light of morning illuminating a thin layer of sweat that dampened every rippling muscle, the answer was a resounding, “Yes!” Hank looked good, too, though it was apparent from his bloodshot eyes that he had gone back to his room to drink a little after he’d dropped her off the night before. Some of the cousins had come to play, too, and a few of them were also pretty good looking, not to mention all of the other random dudes out on the beach jogging, playing frisbee, walking through the surf. Yeah, a few