Meant to Marry Me

The sun was still shining; the waves continued to roll across the shoreline, wetting the sand, and tumbling back out to sea. The seagulls danced and played above her, and the blue sky was vivid and bright, refusing to hide itself in clouds. Bree sunk down in the sand, leaning back against the rocks she'd used as shelter many times that week--a week that had taken on a life of its own, stretching beyond five days into a millennium.

But now, it was all over. So was the last decade of wishing, wanting, and waiting. He was actually going through with it. In fact, considering how long it had taken her to walk here from the chapel, he'd probably already done it. He was probably already married. The pastor would've said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Trent Walker." There would've been applause, and then the gorgeous couple would've gone to greet everyone, to relish in their congratulations. They'd be doing pictures now, soon to be headed to the reception where they'd cut the cake. Bree had no doubt Monica would do something to embarrass Trent--like smear it all over his face. Yeah, he was a married man now, married to that woman who didn't appreciate him. And here she was, sitting in the sand broken and miserable.

Her thoughts flickered to Hank for a moment. How his heart must also be breaking as he watched them kiss for the first time as man and wife. He'd likely stick around for the whole reception since that's what the best man was supposed to do. People would probably be whispering about Bree at the reception, asking what was the matter with her, why she'd left, what kind of a professional musician just left a wedding like that? But she couldn't care at the moment. Her phone would likely ring soon. It would be Hank or Christy or Abby, wanting to know if she was all right. Telling her how sorry they were for her, that it would be okay, that she could do better, that Trent was getting what was coming to him for choosing Monica over her. She'd thank them, hang up, and keep sitting there until she finally had the strength to go to her room, gather her belongings and head to the airport, looking for an alternate flight on the way.

Yes, that's how it would all play out. She should've seen it unfolding from the moment she realized it was Trent who was getting married. Why she'd ever thought she was strong enough to do this, she had no idea. How she'd ever convinced herself that Trent would choose her over Monica, or even that he would be so angry at her for cheating on him that he'd tell her off and walk away, she couldn't say, but it was all over now--all of it but the crying.

Despite her best attempts not to cry, to tell herself she'd done enough of that for him over the years, the tears were coming. She let them fall. It wasn't an ugly, desperate, exhausting cry, just a gentle rain. It would take longer this way to let the emotions out, but it was better than that soul purging cry that would leave her aching and shuddering for hours. Bree tipped her head back, stared up at the birds, listened to the ocean, and cried.