Meant to Marry Me

Chapter 34: Putting Two and Two Together

Thursday evening was the lobster boil on the beach. Normally, Bree would be excited to attend, but

under the circumstances, she didn’t want to go. Sure, it might be fun to eat lobster and corn on the cob,

amongst other things, beneath the moon and stars and listen to the waves lap against the shore. But

Hank’s words had played over and over again in her mind all day, so by the time she was supposed to

be heading to the beach, she was sitting on the couch in her room instead, staring out the window at

the descending sun, wondering what she should do.

Her phone rang, and she glanced down to see it was Lilly. She was probably calling from the beach,

asking where she was. Not that it was like Lilly to notice when she wasn’t around that week, but in

fairness, she had been unbelievably busy trying to make sure Monica had everything she needed.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Have you left your room yet?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, looking around as if she wasn’t sure if that were true or not. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking, maybe you could bring your guitar. It might be nice to sit around the fire and sing

some songs.”

“Oh.” Bree wasn’t sure what to say to that. It hadn’t crossed her mind that anyone would want her to do

that. “I guess I can.” She’d brought her favorite guitar, the one her grandmother had given her when

she was younger. She hoped nothing happened to it. Thoughts of getting sand in it, or someone

stepping on it, or Monica losing her shit and throwing it into the fire all made her shake.

“Awesome. You should come on out. The boil’s on, and a lot of the guys are playing football. Dwayne’s

asking about you.”

She made that last comment in a sing-song voice, and Bree felt herself blushing. Dwayne was hot, and

he’d been paying a lot of attention to her since the volleyball game, but she wasn’t really interested in

him. If she messed around with Dwayne it would only be because she couldn’t have Trent, and that This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

wasn’t fair to anyone. That didn’t make her cheeks any less red.

“I’ll be there soon.” They hung up, and Bree decided it was time to get herself up off of the couch.

Taking her guitar case from the closet, she headed out, hoping everything went better tonight than it

had at any of their other recent get togethers.

She followed the sound of laughter down the beach, not certain she was headed in the right direction

until she saw Monica’s statuesque form outlined against the fading sun. There were lots of groups of

people partying on the beach, but Monica stood out for certain, even amongst her gorgeous friends. It

was no wonder Trent had decided to go ahead and marry her. Who wouldn’t want to marry a woman

who looked like that?

The voice in the back of her head whispered, “Trent wouldn’t. She’s shallow. And mean. And nasty.

And she’s not you.” But that was just hope speaking, and it’s voice was a whisper because it was about

to fade away forever.

Hank spotted her first, and she saw the look of relief wash across his face as she arrived. Staff from the

resort was working on the food. Plenty of tables were set up, and a few guests were sitting at them

drinking while others were playing catch with the football or sitting on blankets in the sand, drinks in

their hands. She saw Trent, going long for a pass thrown by Dwayne, and tried not to stare at him.

God, he was a magnificent specimen of a man. So perfectly sculpted, so handsome, so… nice. Could

he actually marry Monica and be happy? She didn’t think so. Maybe she would be doing him a favor by

convincing him to break up with her--if she could even do that.

Sitting by the small fire, sipping a beer, Hank looked morose. She still hadn’t quite figured out why he

was so upset about this entire situation. His posture reminded her of that night at Christy’s party when

he’d been upset that that girl wouldn’t date him. What was her name?

He looked up at her then, and she pictured what he’d said about her, how upset he’d been that she

wouldn’t do anything but sleep with him. And then it hit her. Like a monsoon wave crashing into her

stomach, Bree almost dropped her guitar as she thought back years into their past. Could it really be?

Had he been talking about who she now thought he’d been talking about? It had to be her! He’d been

upset about a beautiful woman who was ashamed of him--a beautiful woman he called Mon.