Meant to Marry Me

A long run on the beach at dawn hadn't been enough for Trent to escape the uneasy feeling he had inside. After Monica had broken up the dance he shared with Bree at the club the night before, he'd laid awake most of the night thinking about her. He knew the fact that she'd wrapped her arms around his neck to dance had been partially the alcohol and partially Bree's innocence. She certainly hadn't meant to offend Monica, but that was easy to do, and once his fiancée was up in arms about something, it was difficult to get her to let it go. She'd been talking about Bree for the rest of the night.

Trent didn't believe in coincidences. He thought Bree had ended up singing a song she'd written for him, as best he could tell, at his wedding, for a reason. Her grace and tender heart was amplified even more in the presence of Monica, who had lots of amicable qualities, but kindness wasn't always one of them, and the more he considered what had drawn him to Bree all of those years ago, the more he found himself questioning what the hell he was doing with Monica.

She was gorgeous, that was true, but that wasn't it. When they'd first started dating, he'd needed someone like her, someone confident who didn't give a damn about what other people thought about her because she knew she always looked good. She'd been fun, wild, and refreshing. Sure, she was a little conceited and never went out of her way to make other people feel happy or included. But that wasn't that big of a deal to him at the time. Now, it was really starting to annoy him. Bree was her guest, after all, and she had done nothing to make her feel welcome.

Bree had just dropped her cover up on the sand, revealing a two-piece swimsuit that showed the lean muscles of her legs and her tiny waist. She'd always been petite, and in high school, sometimes he'd wonder if he could fit his hands all the way around her waist. She wasn't tall like Monica with mile long legs, but she was beautiful, and her skin glowed in the morning light, illuminating the blonde highlights in her hair so that she looked like she was wearing a halo. Bree was the closest thing to an angel he'd ever seen.

And then Monica came over, a crooked smile on her face, and quietly said, "Gee, maybe she should put that thing back on."

Confused, he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Our little musician friend. God, I bet I could fit her in my pocket." She laughed and added, "Thank God there's no one on this beach whose figure's half as nice as mine." She kissed him on the cheek and moved away.

Anger rumbled around on his insides like a volcano getting ready to burst. Why did Monica always find it necessary to be rude to other people? And why did she choose to pass her nasty comments on to him?

Trying not to think too carefully about his life choices at the moment, Trent focused on the volleyball game. He could tell Bree was doing her best not to engage with the ball. She was letting the guys around her take all of the hits that came close. He saw the way Dwayne and Matt were looking at her, too, like she was a fresh prospect. His best pals went through women like sand through a strainer, and he didn't want either one of them anywhere near Bree. Maybe she'd be the one that would stick with one of them, but he seriously doubted it, and she didn't deserve to be treated the way they normally treated women.

Monica's serve was aimed at Bree's face. There was no way Bree could escape having to play now. The bride had done it on purpose. He shifted his attention away from Bree for a second to see a satisfied smile on Monica's face as she thought Bree was going to get smacked in the face with the ball.

When Bree was able to handle the serve and straighten it out so that her team was able to get the ball back, he almost laughed. Served Monica right for being so mean. But then he saw the look Dwayne was giving Bree, the way he wrapped himself around her, and the muscles in Trent's stomach tightened. Who was he to be touching her like that?

But Bree wasn't his girl. And she never would be. Not now, not since he would be marrying Monica in just a few days. The fact that they had never gotten together as a couple was both of their faults; the fact that they never would was entirely his.

The game went on around him, but Trent was lost in his own world. What if he was making a huge mistake? Was there still time to back out? It wasn't over until he said, "I do" after all, and he hadn't done that yet.

Most of his family was already here. Others would be flying in Saturday morning. Her family was here, too. They had friends who'd spent a lot of money to join them on this blessed occasion. Calling it off now would waste a lot of time and money for a bunch of people he didn't want to hurt.

He looked over at Monica, trying her best to look like a sex-goddess as she got into position to receive the serve from the other team. She really was a good woman, most of the time. Self-absorbed, sure. But she was driven, smart, and passionate about what she wanted out of life. He could list all of her strengths and weaknesses because he'd been over them a million times as he puzzled over whether or not she was the one for him. The one measurement he hadn't accounted for, or at least hadn't paid enough attention to, was whether or not Monica was enough like Bree. Now, he knew for certain the answer was, "No, no she is not."