Meant to Marry Me

Chapter 36: Confessions of a Drunken Best Man

It took a while for Bree to break free of playing the guitar. When Dwayne asked if he could play

something, she gladly handed the instrument over. It seemed to her that he likely wanted her to sit next

to him and sing along, but she made an excuse about stretching her legs and headed out after Hank.

She found him sitting by the cluster of rocks he’d found her at a few times already that week. He had a

beer in his hand--and he was crying.

With a deep breath, she sat down next to him, not sure what to say. Almost immediately, he plopped Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

his head down on her shoulder, and Bree put her arm around him, not sure why he was so upset about

Monica, but it wasn’t her place to judge him, only to be his friend.

“I don’t know what to do….” he whispered between sobs. “God, I love her so much.”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

He looked up for a second and said, “How did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t. You told me-- a few years ago. I just forgot.”

“Right.” He was sobbing again, and Bree rocked him gently, wishing she could come up with something

to make him feel better. “I thought… maybe you could help Trent see the light.”

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“Are you shitting me?” Hank asked, sitting up straight. “If he found out what we’ve been doing…he’d kill

me. Trent’s my best friend, man. I never should’ve done what I did. But now that I have…. I don’t know

how I’m gonna stop. I love her so much.”

“Wait… so you slept with Monica?”

Hank nodded his head against her shoulder.

“Since… she’s been dating Trent?”

Again, that was a confirmation. Bree could hardly believe it. She didn’t think Hank was the sort of guy

who would do that to his best friend, but it seemed like she’d gotten him wrong, too.

“I got all these pictures of her…. I can’t stop looking at them.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and

flashed it in her direction.

Bree didn’t see everything, but she saw enough. Hank had photographic proof that Monica was

cheating on Trent.

With a deep breath, Bree went into action, not stopping to think about what she was doing. Hank had

dropped his phone in the sand, so she picked it up before it had a chance to turn off. He was lost in his

tears. She quickly went to his photos and selected all of the ones of him and Monica, as well as a

couple of videos, then, she airdropped them to her own phone before Hank knew what was happening.

“It’ll be okay, Hank,” she said, still rocking him.

Hank made an awful noise, and Bree realized he was about to be sick. She loved him, but not enough

to stick around for that. She skirted out of the way, and he got up and ran out to sea, spilling his guts in

the waves.

“Hank, are you all right?” Trent was headed toward him, obviously concerned.

“Clearly not,” Bree replied as Trent reached their mutual friend and rested his hand on his back. The

puking was done now, but Hank wasn’t doing well.

“What’s the matter with him? I mean, besides the booze?”

“I don’t know,” Bree replied, but Trent would see right through that.

“I’ll get Matt or someone to help me get him home. Thanks, Bree.”

She nodded and watched Trent help Hank back to the resort. He had no idea his best friend had

stabbed him in the back. Bree wanted to tell him for more reasons than she could count. But how could

she betray Hank like that?

Caught in an uncomfortable situation, Bree debated what to do. Deciding it would be nothing that night,

she headed back up the beach to get her guitar and head back to her room. The only reason she’d

come was because Hank had asked her to, and he was gone now, so she may as well go, too. Monica

could sing for the rest of them if they wanted music. Bree was done.