Chapter Cuts Like a Knife
The uncomfortable tension between the bride and groom permeated the entire dining room. Bree could feel a crawling in her skin that made every inch of her body itch. All she wanted to do was rip her skin off, but since that wouldn't solve the problem, she did her best to ignore both of them, praying it would all be over soon, and she could get on a plane back to Nashville and never think about any of these people again.
Even the people who had no idea anything had happened between Monica and Trent could still feel the uneasiness around them. They were pretending to be fine, talking to each other. Monica would giggle every once in a while and touch his arm. But it was fake. It was a good thing she was trying to be a model and not an actress because she would've never made it as the latter.
Soft conversation filled the room from time to time, but for the most part, the jubilant party atmosphere that had surrounded the group all week was gone, replaced by confused expressions of people who wanted to know why they felt bad who had no explanation.
After dessert was served, a few of the older couples got up to dance. There was a quartet playing island music in the room, and they were very talented, but all Bree could think was that she needed to get out of that room. Now. Hank made his move first, though. He was sitting closer to the door. He got up and nodded his goodbyes to a few people, completely ignoring the bride and groom. He looked briefly at Bree, but she felt like that was an accident. Then, he was gone.
And she was right behind him.
Bree didn't say goodbye to anyone. She'd left her guitar locked up in one of the closets at the chapel, so all she had was her phone and her room key. While she wasn't as fast as Hank, she was on a mission. She saw him veer off of the path toward the beach and followed right behind him, running a few steps, and grabbing him by the arm.
He must've known she was coming because he said, "What do you want, Bree?" before he even turned around.
"I don't know. But... I couldn't let you walk away by yourself."
"Why not? You think I'm gonna go for a long dunk in the ocean?"
"No, but I know if anyone else in the whole world feels as shitty as I do right now, it's you."
That's when he turned to look at her. An exasperated smile took over his face. "Yeah, I guess so." Hank opened her arms, and she fell into them.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I told him. I'm sorry I told him, and it didn't do either one of us any good."
"Me, too," Hank admitted. "I should've taken the pictures to him myself, but I was too afraid of losing him. Now, I know we'll never be the same as we were before, but he doesn't even seem to care." "He cares. Couldn't you see the tension between them? He's upset, but he doesn't know what to do."
"Honestly, I didn't pay much attention to them at all."
"The whole room could feel it," she said. The two of them started walking again. The moonlight was beautiful out over the water, the soft waves lapping against the shore, but it was difficult to admire anything when Bree felt like the entire world was spiraling out of control.
"He wanted to talk to me, but I avoided him. I didn't know what he wanted to say, but I expected it to be pretty ugly. Now, I'm guessing it wouldn't have been at all. How can he still let me stand up there next to him tomorrow after what I've done to him? Is he really some sort of saint or somethin'?"
"Hardly," Bree replied, folding her arms. "No. I think he's afraid of what everyone is going to think if he doesn't go through with this. I don't even think it's the money. He's afraid of the judgment. I think he's always been a little afraid of what other people thought, a little more than you or I have been anyway."
"Yeah, I can see that, but only because he doesn't want to let anyone down. He won't want to disappoint his parents, but he also won't want to disappoint Monica's parents. They're good people." "That's true. They are. But they'll be more disappointed if they end up getting an annulment or a divorce."
"Sure. But that's two steps down the road, not right now. He's thinking about right now. Besides that, I wonder if it's even occurred to him that I'm probably not the only one. I don't think I am." That was news to Bree. "You think Monica's slept with other guys while she's been engaged to Trent?"
"Hell ya, I do. I can't prove that, though."
"Is that why you took the pictures? In case you ever wanted to tell him the truth--so she couldn't deny it?"
"That and because I wanted pictures of myself with such a hot girl. But... maybe."
"I'm sorry I stole them. That was pure evil on my part."
"Yeah it was. But I don't blame you. Have you deleted them off of your phone?"
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"I will." Bree pulled her phone out and did it right then. "Trent has them, though. He stole them from me."
"Figures." Hank let out a deep sigh.
They walked on for a few minutes in silence. Bree could see her room off to the right, across the sand and the palm trees that lined the walkway. It would be easy to go back there now, go to sleep, and not wake up until she had to go play her song. Then, she was catching the first flight out. "Let me ask you something, though, Hank. If Monica wanted to be with you now, say she broke up with Trent, would you be with her?"
"Yes, of course. No doubt about it."
"Really?" Bree was shocked. "How could you do that after what she's done to him?"
He shrugged. "I love her. I'd do anything for her."
"But Hank... she's... a horrible person. She's been doing her best to ruin your life and Trent's. How can you love someone like that?"
"Hell, Bree, I don't know. But I do. Maybe that's Trent's real problem. Maybe he still loves her, too."
That was the last thing in the world Bree wanted to hear. "Maybe so." She took a deep breath, held it, and then let it go. "I'm gonna call it a night." She patted him on the arm. "Take care, Hank. It'll all work out." She didn't believe that for a minute, but she'd said it anyway. It didn't matter--he didn't believe it either.
Bree headed back to her room, thankful to be inside and alone. Her plan now was to take a hot bath and do her best to go to sleep. She turned her phone off, made sure the door was locked, and closed the curtains. She'd had enough of the world for one day.