Meant to Marry Me

It was no surprise at all that Hank was late. In fact, Bree would've been shocked if he'd been on time. But when he knocked on her door at 9:30 that evening, she wasn't upset at all that he was late. It had given her a little more time to work on a new song she was writing and a little less time to be in the same room with Monica and Trent.

"You look purty!" Hank exclaimed as she opened the door.

Glancing down at the dress she was wearing, Bree said, "Thanks." It was a mix of beachy and nightclub. A nice green strappy dress that came to about mid-thigh with a floral print in corals and reds, she figured it would work for the local bar. Her hair was pinned up in a twist and she was wearing hoop earrings, a necklace, and a few bangles, as well as strappy sandals with a small heel. "You look nice as well."

Hank was wearing a rather loud floral print shirt in bright blue and orange with khaki shorts and loafers. But she could tell he'd taken his time with his hair and double-checked he didn't miss any spots while shaving. "Thank you, dear. I figured if I was going to walk in with a beautiful starlet on my arm, I should dress the part."

Bree laughed, not knowing what to think of that. She made sure her phone and key card were in the wristlet that contained her ID, credit card, and a little bit of cash and then followed him out into the warm air.

It was actually much cooler than it had been earlier in the day, and for a moment, she thought a storm might be on the horizon. But if it was, it was a long way off, and they should be able to get to the club and back without getting caught in the rain. It was a bit of a surprise that it hadn't rained on them yet since the area was known for getting storms from out to sea.

"Do you wanna walk or shall I hail us an automobile?" Hank asked in a sophisticated voice.

"I'm okay with walking. I might need a ride home." She had a feeling she'd probably end up drinking more than she should under the circumstances.

"Well, the princess bride has arranged for us all to get up bright and early tomorrow to play volleyball on the beach at eight, so you might not want to drink too much."

"Eight? After a night out? Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. I wonder if she'll even make that event herself. It might just be all the older folks who aren't out partying tonight who make it there."

Bree laughed, thinking about Trent's parents versus Monica's parents on the sand. "Maybe Great-Aunt Patricia will spike a few."

Hank's laugh was loud and robust as he no doubt pictured the older woman jumping up and hitting a volleyball like she was Kerri Walsh Jennings. "Now, I'd get up early to see that."

The club wasn't far away. Within a block of the location, they could hear loud mariachi music coming through the open door. "God, I hope they play some techno or something, too," Hank said, making a face. "I prefer country, of course, but I'm not sure I can handle the music they're playing now all night."

"I'm guessing they'll at least play some Caribbean hits," she assured him. "They probably try to hit all flavors around here."

"Probably not country," he lamented.

With a giggle, Bree approached the man at the door. "Good evening," he said. He looked them over closely and seemed like he was considering telling Hank he couldn't come in for one reason or another, so Bree slipped her hand around his arm. “Come on in," he said, still eyeing Hank like there was one too many dudes in the club already.

"Thank you," Bree said for both of them since Hank had already gotten his dander up. As large as the man at the door was, Hank had at least thirty pounds on him and was a few inches taller. Not that it should come to blows.

Once inside, she let go of his arm and looked around. Almost immediately, she picked Monica's laugh out of the crowd. It wasn't loud, but it was annoying enough that it met her ear from several feet away. She was surrounded by her group of girls, as she had been before the dinner the night before, and they were all looking at her like she was the queen and they were her minions.

The guys were all standing nearby, beers in hand, and when Trent saw them come in, his smile broadened. He gave Hank the familiar head nod that most guys did when they saw one of their bros, but he just looked fondly at Bree, and then she turned away from him because she couldn't handle the thoughts that came to mind when she looked at him.

Lilly saw her and came rushing over anyway. "Yay! You're here! I'm so glad you came! We missed you this morning." "Sorry. I was tired. I spent most of the day lying on the beach."

"I totally understand," she said as Hank excused himself to go hang out with the other guys. "Let's get you a drink."

Bree was not arguing with that. She went to the bar and ordered whatever it was Lilly was drinking--something fruity and sweet--and did her best to calm her nerves by drowning her uncomfortableness in alcohol.

By her third fruity drink, Bree was no longer feeling anxious. In fact, she was feeling pretty good. A few of the guys asked her to dance, and she happily accepted. After a few hours, she no longer really cared about Trent and his beautiful, elegant, supermodel fiancée. She wasn't drunk--at least she didn't think she was--but she was happier than she'd been since she'd arrived, that was for sure.

And then Trent had to walk over and bring her whole new happy world crashing down around her.

With one hand on her shoulder, he asked, "Bree, are you all right?"

She knew it was him before she even turned around, but she was still startled to see how close he was. She looked around for Monica and saw her sitting with her girls at a table across the room, in the middle of one of her epic stories. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" "You look a little... inebriated. I just wanted to make sure none of these guys was getting a little too familiar, that's all."

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Her eyes searched the crowd of guys who had formed around her. None of them were part of their party. As far as she could tell, none of them had done anything inappropriate, but then, she hadn't been paying that much attention either. "I'm fine," she said again.

Trent was looking at her skeptically. The song switched to something slow, and the people around them paired off, except for the excess men who couldn't find a woman. Most of them headed to the bar. Others went back to the tables. Without thinking, Bree wrapped her arms around Trent's neck. "Have you even danced with anyone tonight?"

His eyes went to Monica and then back to her. "No, but Monica does like to dance. She's just been busy with her friends so far." His hands were on Bree's waist now, and he was moving in time to the music. "She's so beautiful," Bree admitted. "And tall!"

He chuckled. "She is both of those things, it's true."

"Damn, Trent. Did you meet her at school? It seems like a woman who looks like that wouldn't be at regular school. She should go to one of those fantasy academies all the kids are reading about these days."

"I met her at regular college," he said, smiling at Bree. "She was in my geography class my senior year--her junior year--and we studied together."

"Oh, did she pretend not to know anything so you'd have to lean over and point to the map for her?"

"No, she did quite well, thank you very much."

"I said pretend," Bree pointed out.

Still smirking at her, he said, "No, she asked me out one day after a study session, and we've been together ever since."

"Well, she's just beautiful. And so are you. The two of you are going to have the most gorgeous children." Bree heard herself but couldn't stop from talking,

"Thank you, Bree. Listen, I know this is weird for you. If you don't want to come to any more of this stuff, I get it."

"No, I'll be there. Hank asked me to come, and I'll be there."

"Hank asked you to come?"

"Yeah."

Trent looked perplexed. "Huh. I wonder why."

"I don't know. Maybe Hank likes me."

Shaking his head, Trent said, "I know he does, but it seems odd that he'd ask you to come to everything." A shadow passed across his face, and Bree got the impression whatever it was it had something to do with whatever it was Hank had eluded to earlier on the beach.

Trent never got a chance to say more even if he intended to. Bree heard Monica clear her throat and knew that it was her before she even turned her head. "Hi! Well, aren't you two cute. Look at you, dancing with my man before I even got a chance to." She was smiling, but there was a harshness around each word as it floated out of her mouth.

"We were just talking," Trent assured her with a laidback shrug.

"And dancing," Monica pointed out.

"I'm sorry," Bree said, her hands already moving off of Trent. "I figured as long as we were standing here talking, we may as well dance. No harm intended."

"Oh, no harm done. Believe me, I'm not at all intimidated." Again, Monica's face said one thing while her tone said something else. The way she was looking at Bree was enough to set her off, as if Bree was some sort of ogre compared to the beautiful bride. "I was just hoping to have a chance to dance with my husband before anyone else, that's all."

Bree wanted to correct her--he wasn't her husband yet--but she saw no reason to do so. "Sorry," Bree said, moving away from Trent. She caught his eyes, and he looked sympathetic. "See you later."

"Bree...." He said her name but didn't follow her, and Bree didn't turn around. Instead, she headed straight for Hank, wanting to tell him it was time for her to go home.