Meant to Marry Me
Meant to Be

Bree was still gazing up at the sky when she realized she wasn't alone. The familiar scent of his cologne told her who had come to sit next to her on the sand without her even tilting her head over to look at him. She didn't, either. Whatever he had to say, he could say it while she watched the only cloud she'd seen in a while slowly float by.

"I'm sorry," Trent said, his voice as quiet and still as the heavens above them. "I should've listened to you."

Bree took that to mean that he hadn't. It was odd that he was here, but it was also quite possible he'd snuck away from the reception for a few minutes to come and apologize to his lifelong friend. Monica had gotten what she'd wanted, after all. Why would she care if Trent left for a few minutes to apologize to someone who no longer mattered in his life? With nothing coming to mind as a response, she continued to look up at the clouds.

So... he continued. "I just kept telling myself that there was a logical explanation. Like I do about everything. Or that it had been my fault. She said it happened a long time ago, so maybe it had been at a time when I was too busy to give her the attention she needed. Or... something. I had been about to call it off at the rehearsal, but then she started crying and begging me not to. Giving her another chance seemed like the right thing to do. And... then there was the embarrassment of having to tell everyone what had happened. As far as I know, no one has ever cheated on me before, certainly not with Hank, who was also supposed to be my best friend. It was easier to pretend it away and worry about it

later."

He went quiet, and Bree slowly rolled her head toward him, catching his eyes. "I guess you'll have to now," she said with a shrug. Her voice didn't sound bitter, though, not even to her own ear, even though she felt like she had a right to be bitter. She noticed he had his jacket off and his tie was undone, hanging around his neck, the top two buttons on his shirt unhooked.

Trent arched an eyebrow at her. "I already did, Bree."

Sitting up, Bree looked at him directly now. "You already did what?"

"I already worried about it--I already dealt with it. I... didn't marry her."

The oxygen drained from her body as quickly as a breeze blowing out to see on a windy day as she studied his face. Was he serious? And if so, what did this mean for her? "You... you didn't?"

Trent shook his head and then dropped his gaze. "As soon as you were done with your song, the pastor asked us to exchange rings. I was supposed to go first, but that's when I realized what it was about those pictures that had been driving me crazy ever since I first saw them."

"You mean besides the fact that they were pictures of your fiancée with your best friend?"

He pressed his lips together and nodded his head at her. "Yeah, other than that." Trent narrowed his eyes, and Bree almost laughed. Almost. That was the look he gave her when he wanted to scold her but couldn't because he knew she'd just say something smart right back. "It was the ring, Bree. Monica had told me she slept with Hank a long time ago, but she had on the engagement ring I bought for her, so it couldn't have been as long ago as she said." "No, it wasn't long ago at all. Hank could've told you that."

"He could have--if he would've been willing to talk to me about it at all. But her explanation made things easier for me, so I didn't hound him. Anyway, when the pastor asked me to give her the ring, it all became clear. And I couldn't do it." Bree swallowed hard, wishing she would've stayed there a few moments longer to see that. "What did you do?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, which hardly moved thanks to all the product he had in it for the big day. "Caused a scene, I guess."

Now it was her turn to smirk at him. "What did your parents think of that?"

"I don't know. I came straight here. I was hoping this is where you'd be."

"And where is your jacket?"

"Gave it to some kid who was complaining that the sand was too hot."

Bree laughed. "I hope it wasn't a rental."

"Oh, no. Monica made me buy this entire getup. And believe me, I'm never wearing it again."

"Does that mean you're never getting married?" She wasn't sure what possessed her to ask the question, but it had slipped out before she could stop it.

"I didn't say that. But not to her. And not to anyone like her. She was just... wrong for me in so many ways. No matter how hard I tried to justify the good in her, Bree, we both know I would've never been happy with her."

"I know you wouldn't. But I'm still sorry. It couldn't have been easy for you to stand up there and do that." She put her hand on his arm, ignoring the tingling sensation from his touch and focusing on attempting to comfort him. "I'm proud of you, Trent."

"Thank you, Bree. That means a lot. And I am sorry I didn't listen to you. I should've known you wouldn't steer me wrong."

She sighed and removed her hand. "Well, I can't blame you for not wanting to listen to me. I mean, it's not as if my purposes for telling you were one hundred percent selfless."

An easy smile took over his handsome face. "I know they weren't when you told me. But now that, once again, I've screwed everything up, do you still feel that way?" "What way?" Bree asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Trent cocked his head to the side and studied her. "Do you... still like me a little?"

"Like you... or like you, like you?" Bree grinned at him, knowing she was exasperating him and feeling a bit vindicated for it.

"Do you like me, like me, Bree? Or should I just go stick my head in the sand right now and be done?"

With as serious a tone as she could muster, Bree looked into his eyes and said, "Sorry, Trent. I don't like you like you."

He swallowed so hard, she could see his Adam's apple bob. "Oh. Okay. Well, that's unfortunate." He shifted so he was looking out to sea.

"Why is that?" She had to ask. She'd been forthcoming with her feelings the other night when she'd told him about the pictures. Now, she wanted to hear his.

"Well, I was hoping maybe we could finally see where this might go. Now that we're both single at the same time again. I know it would be hard since we don't live in the same town, and you're working so hard on your career right now, but I'd be willing to do what it takes to finally know for sure if being with you could be what I'd always imagined it would be."

"And what's that?" she asked, her voice soft and slow as she waited for his answer.

His eyes met hers again. "Perfect."

A smile pulled up the corner of her mouth. "I don't like you like you, Trent. But... I do love you."

His eyebrows arched over perfect blue eyes. "Say what now?"

"I hope that doesn't scare you, but it's true. I love you. I've loved you since I was about twelve years old, and I don't know what my life would be like if I didn't love you. So... if you wanna see where this goes, I'm all for it. I'm happy to put in the work. You just gotta say--"

"I love you, too."

"What?" she asked, not expecting him to interrupt her.

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"I said, 'I love you, too.' Is that what you were going to say I had to say?"

"No, I was going to say you just gotta say you're willing to give it a try."

"Oh, well, in that case...." He took a deep breath, turned to face the ocean, let it out, and then turned back to her. "I'm willing to give it a try. Because I love you, too."

Bree couldn't remember a time in her life where she'd ever been so happy. Her smile was so bright, she was sure it rivaled the sun. When Trent leaned in and found her lips, something deep within her rose to the surface--joy, peace, a love so deep she'd never known it existed before. She slid her hand to the back of his hair and pulled him closer, hoping the moment never had to end.

Eventually, he pulled back, and looking into her eyes, he said it again. "I love you, Bree. More than anything. Thank you for never giving up on me."

"Thank you for coming back to me."

Trent grinned at her and leaned in for another kiss, which she willingly planted on his perfect lips. When they next came up for air, he said, "Ready to go get your guitar?"

She'd forgotten all about it. If it hadn't been the special one she'd gotten from her grandmother, she might've just left it. "Yes, let's go get it," she agreed.

Trent stood and pulled her to standing. Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, letting Bree know that he never wanted to let her go. There was no doubt in her mind that this man was hers--that they were meant to be together.

When he stepped back, Bree slipped her hand in his. "I never had my doubts," she said, though it wasn't true. Only a few moments ago, she'd thought it was all over, and he'd married Monica.

"About what?" Trent asked as they walked along, hand in hand.

"That you were meant to marry me."

Chuckling, he said, "Ah, that sounds like a song. You should write that someday."

She gave him a playful elbow in the side. "Good idea, Maybe I will."

Walking with his hand in hers was as natural as the tide rolling in and out, serenading them as they went. Whatever the future brought them, Bree was sure they'd face it head on because they'd face it together--just as it was meant to be.