Meant to Marry Me

Trent watched Bree walk down the aisle. He wasn't surprised when she didn't stop at her seat. It had been a shock that she'd stayed as long as she did. The fact that she had actually sang that song at his wedding, while staring into his eyes, let him know how much he meant to her--she really did love him, still.

And here he was, holding the hands of a woman he knew had cheated on him with his best friend, getting ready to say, "I do." I do--what? Want to be with you? Want to spend the rest of my life with you? Treasure you? Trust you? Love you? Were any of those things true?

Trent thought about that picture he'd been staring at all morning. What was it screaming out at him that Monica was still lying? He couldn't quite place it, but he knew it was there. If only he could put his finger on it, maybe it would be enough for him to realize he was making a mistake.

"Have you the ring?" the pastor asked, and by his tone, it seemed like maybe it wasn't the first time he'd said it.

"The ring?" Trent repeated.

"Yes, the ring."

He turned to Hank, and he dropped the wedding band into his hand. Monica stuck her left hand out, her engagement ring in place, twinkling at him.

And it hit him--right then and there--like a ton of bricks. Like a punch to the gut. "The ring," he said, even though the pastor was telling him to say something else, to repeat, "With this ring I thee wed." He couldn't repeat that phrase, though. Not to Monica. "The ring...." Trent said again.

Monica had an awkward smile plastered to her face. Her eyes darted from Trent to the crowd and then back again. "Trent?" she asked. "Put the ring on... my finger."

"The ring was on your finger." It was almost to himself, not to her, but then he looked up, looked her straight in the eyes. "You said it was a long time ago, but it wasn't. You were wearing your ring.'

"No, I wasn't," she said, shaking her head. "It was a different ring."

"No, I could see the diamond in the picture." He let go of her hand, took a step back. "You did that after we bought the ring."

"No, I didn't, Trent. Please." Her eyes fixed on the crowd for a moment. Then, she turned back to him. With her teeth gritted together, Monica said, "Don't do this now."

He studied her for a moment. She was trying so hard to save face, to not be embarrassed in front of this entire chapel full of people. Not being embarrassed was far more important to her than making a mistake. "How can you say you love me when you would do something like that?"

"Trent--stop!" It was a threat. He knew that look, that tone. She'd used it lots of times before when she wanted him to do something he wasn't comfortable with or let her buy something he thought was a waste of money. "Knock it off. Put. That. Ring. On. My. Finger."

Murmurs from the crowd reached his ear now, and he realized they were all trying to figure out what was happening. Why were they arguing? Was he really contemplating not putting the ring on her finger? Was there a chance the wedding wasn't going to happen?

Trent took another step back. "I can't do that, Monica. I can't put this ring on your finger. I can't stand up here in front of all of these people that I love and respect, people who love and respect us, and tell a lie. I can't love you, Monica, not when you've made it painfully obvious that you don't love me."

"Trent--you're being ridiculous! Of course I love you! Sleeping with Hank was a mistake, okay? I admit that! It was one mistake!"

Gasps echoed through the chapel. The pastor took a big step back, as if he would no longer condone this wedding himself even if Trent decided he did want to go through with it.

"It wasn't one mistake. It wasn't one time. It wasn't even just Hank, I have no doubt. I'm sorry, Monica. But I don't love you anymore, not when you care so little for me. I can't give you this ring. And I can't make you my wife." Monica slammed her hands down to her thighs. "What? You can't be serious! You asshole! You know you'll never find anyone as good as me. What are you planning to do? Run off after that little bitch country singer? You think that song was about you, don't you? Well, it wasn't! She doesn't love you!"

"I don't know whether she does or not," Trent said, ignoring her angry words and doing his best to keep his cool, "but Bree would never, ever treat anyone the way that you've treated me--or the way that you've treated Hank for that matter. You're not the type of woman I want to be with Monica. You can be angry. You can yell in front of all of these nice people, if you want to, but I won't be here to listen to it. I've gotta go."

With that, Trent turned and headed out through the same side door he'd entered through. Monica was shouting his name after him, but he didn't stop. His walk turned into a run as he thought about where he needed to go and what he needed to do. He knew he wasn't thinking clearly at the moment, but deep down inside, it was clear what needed to happen next, and even if it was just as painful as making a scene at his almost-wedding in front of hundreds of people, it needed to happen, and it needed to happen now.