Meant to Marry Me

Her fingers were sore from practicing so long, the strings cutting into the tender flesh of her fingertips, but that didn't prevent Bree from making dinner. Most of the time since the fire, they ordered out, or Trent would make something when he got home, but since she'd done so well practicing earlier, her spirits had lifted. It wasn't anything fancy, but her mother had taught her to make a mean eggplant parmesan. She'd just popped it in the oven to bake when she heard Trent's keys in the lock.

Setting the timer, Bree went off to greet him, a smile on her face. "Hey, babe!" she called, anticipation of showing him later how well she'd done with her chords bubbling up inside of her.

It was clear Trent wasn't in a good mood when he'd first come in. He had a scowl on his face, and his energy was low. But when he turned to look at her, dropping his briefcase by the door, a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth. "Hi. You're in a good mood."

"I am in a good mood," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. He settled his hands on her hips, looking into her eyes. "I made a lot of progress today."Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

His smile brightened. "That's amazing. I'm so glad to hear it. Will you show me later? After dinner?" He looked up, his eyes training toward the kitchen. "Are you cooking?"

"I am. Eggplant parmesan. I hope you like it."

"It smells great.” His eyes were back on her now, and as he tipped his head, she went up on her toes to meet his lips. His kiss was warm and inviting. His lips lingered; she parted her lips, and Trent pulled her even closer, his hand sliding up to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss.

As easy as it was to get caught up in the moment, she wanted to know why he'd come in with such a morose look on his face. Bree pulled back, took a moment to catch her breath, and then slid her hands down his arms to interlace her fingers with his. Pulling him over to the couch, she asked, "How was your day?"

His mood darkened immediately. Shaking his head, Trent said, "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, no. Did something happen? Did you lose an account?"

"No, nothing like that." He pulled at his tie and brushed his fingers through his hair. "It's nothing. I'd rather not think about it and concentrate on the gains you made today. Do you have time to show me now?"

Bree glanced into the kitchen at the timer. "I was going to make some pasta to go with the eggplant, but I suppose I could take a minute to show you a little."

"Awesome." Trent settled back against the couch, and Bree picked up her guitar.

A wave of anxiety overcame her as that doubt from earlier came back. What if she couldn't do it, now that someone was waiting to hear her play? Pushing it to the back of her mind, Bree positioned her fingers and began to play.

It was rough, that was for certain, not at all polished like it used to be before. But her fingers were doing what she asked them to do, for the most part, and the song was recognizable.

Trent clapped and cheered. "That's amazing, Bree! You've made huge progress, just since I heard you play last week."

She set the guitar down, the stinging in her fingers well worth it to hear that sort of praise. "Thank you," she said, pink filling her cheeks. "I've got a long way to go, but I'm super happy to have gotten this far."

"Definitely. You'll be playing just like you used to in no time at all." Trent stood, stooping to kiss her on the top of the head as he pulled at his tie and headed for the bedroom. She couldn't help but continue to smile at the compliment. He definitely knew how to brighten her mood.

Setting her guitar back down, Bree went into the kitchen to make the pasta, her smile slipping away as she thought about what he'd said about his day. Why had his mood darkened when she'd asked? If it wasn't an account--what else was it that could take his smile away so quickly? Perhaps it was a personnel problem. She'd never worked in an office before, but she had friends that did. It seemed like someone was always arguing with someone else....

Trent came out of the bedroom dressed in a T-shirt and jeans about the time the oven chimed that dinner was done. He looked just as handsome as ever, even in casual wear, she couldn't help but smile at him. Returning the grin, he pulled two plates out of the cabinet, and they both went about fixing their plates, deciding to eat outside on the deck since it was such a nice day.

Bree didn't utilize this area nearly as much as she should. It was a small space, just big enough for a table and two chairs, but it overlooked the green-space in the back of the complex, which was filled with flowers this time of year. The sky was a brilliant blue, a light breeze stirred her hair, and Bree breathed deeply, letting nature calm her spirit.

The eggplant was better than she'd hoped. They both ate in silence for several minutes until Bree remembered that phone call and pondered when she should tell him what Lilly had warned her about. He had such a contented expression on his face, she hated to spoil it.

But as soon as they were both done eating, Bree pushed her plate aside and reached for his hand. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Oh, no," Trent said, raising an eyebrow, even though he was smiling at her. "That doesn't sound good."

She shrugged. It wasn't--though she could certainly think of worse news one might have to give, considering everything they'd been through already in their short relationship. "Lilly called me today."

His eyes enlarged only slightly, which surprised her. She thought he would be more alarmed than that at the mere mention of her former roommate's name. "What did she have to say?"

She adjusted her hand, taking a moment to concentrate on the strength of his grip, how safe she felt when he was with her. "She said Monica has moved to Nashville. That she took a modeling job here." "Oh."

It was all he said. Bree stared at him a moment, noting that he dropped his eyes for a second, his head shaking slightly. "Did you already know that?"

Trent opened his mouth, closed it, shrugged, adjusted in his chair, and said, "Yeah, I found that out today."

"What do you mean?" Bree pulled her hand back but only so she could push herself up to the edge of her chair. "Did she call you?"

"No. Even better. I ran into her on my walk to get some lunch."

"You saw her?" Every fiber of Bree's being was screaming in alarm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Again, he shrugged. "I was going to. I just... didn't get to it yet. And I didn't want to upset you, not on a day when you were doing so well with your progress. Besides, she was hostile the entire time. It wasn't at all as if she were happy to see me."

"What did she say?" The idea that her fiancé was talking to his ex made her skin crawl. Monica had no right to even speak to him!

"Not much. Only that she wished she hadn't bumped into me, that she had heard about your injuries. She wasn't overly sympathetic, as you can imagine. That's really about it."

She believed him, though she had a feeling he was holding back the ugliest bits. "Well, Lilly was of the opinion that she only took this job because you live here, that it was all part of her devious scheme to attempt to get you back. Apparently, she's been miserable since the wedding was called off."

Trent stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he said, "Huh. Well, I didn't get that impression when I saw her. Not at all. I think Lilly might be jumping to conclusions."

"I don't know. Lilly knows her sister pretty well." Bree wished she hadn't eaten so much. The eggplant and pasta was sitting in her stomach like a large rock now.

Trent reached for her hand again, and she gave it to him. "I wouldn't worry about it, Bree. Monica's all bark and no bite. She likes to talk a big game, but in the end, she's never done anything to physically hurt anyone. As long as we stay away from her, we'll be fine. Besides, you know I'd never leave you for her--or anyone--right?"

"I know." Bree forced a smile, still not completely settled with the idea that Monica had managed to run into him today. Trent got up, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her deeply enough to remind her that he belonged to her--not Monica or anyone else.