Meant to Marry Me

It was a little past 2:00 when Bree and Trent walked into the restaurant Christy had suggested. When Christy said she'd be there at 2:00, that meant no earlier than 2:15, so Bree wasn't surprised at all that they still weren't there now, and she wasn't expecting them for a few more minutes. The waiter showed them to a booth large enough to seat all four of them, and Bree and Trent sat together, leaving the other side for their friends--if that could even be used to describe Hank at the moment. He was still Bree's friend, but apparently not Trent's. Not that she blamed him.

He'd agreed to come, though. That was something. She knew he was doing this for her, that he would've rather done just about anything in the world than put on a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt to go off to a semi-casual restaurant that served an array of American cuisine to meet a friend of Bree's he never cared for that much and a friend of his who had stabbed him in the back so recently and so brutally the wound was still festering. She got it. She just... wished it wasn't so.

They both ordered drinks. Since Bree was driving, she decided to stick with tea, but Trent ordered a Jack Daniels, and again, there was no blame to be found. She just hoped the booze wouldn't free him up to say something Hank would find fault with and start an argument. Normally, Trent was able to keep his words civil, no matter how much he'd drank, but she had no idea what might happen when he finally had to face Hank.

A few minutes after they'd received their drinks, Christy and Hank came in. She was so loud, Bree could hear her come in the door, even though they were seated in the back of the restaurant. She didn't turn around and stare, though. The hostess brought them over and dropped them off, giving Bree a look like someone might do to notify a parent that their child was getting out of hand, and then headed back to her station with a huff.

"Well, hello there, darling!" Christy said, stooping to hug Bree. "Long time no see." She was speaking in an overly formal accent and sounded ridiculous. Bree had to hide a laugh so she didn't respond, only hugged her back. Christy clasped Trent's hand. "If it isn't the famous Trent Walker, receiver of golden statues and master of mathematics," she said, letting go of him and sliding into the booth so that she was sitting across from him. She was wearing an outfit that let Bree know she was intending to go out later that night and probably didn't want to mess with going back to the hotel to change. A tight black skirt that wasn't too long, and a flashy silver blouse with stilettos. She looked great, though it was a little odd for their current location.

Hank was slightly standoffish, which didn't surprise Bree at all. He bent to give her a hug. "Nice to see you again, Bree," he said quietly.

"You, too." She squeezed her friend tightly and then let him go. Hank sat down next to Christy, and Bree held her breath, not sure how Trent would handle this.

"Hi, Trent," Hank said, the remorse for his actions obvious in the way he kept his face tipped down.

"Hi, Hank." Trent forced a small smile onto his handsome face and then pulled his hand out from under the table, extending it across. It was difficult for him, but Bree couldn't help but smile. Hank shook his hand, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. The tension was alleviated, at least a bit. When Trent put his hand back under the table, Bree took it in hers.

Christy immediately launched into a story, which helped all of them to settle down. By the time the waitress came to take their order, they were all laughing and having a good time. It was still obvious that the situation between Trent and Hank was strained, but at least they were speaking to each other. At least they were sitting at the same table, listening to Christy's crazy stories, and laughing in harmony with one another instead of fighting or refusing to acknowledge one another. The food came, and the friends continued to chat and catch up on what was happening in their lives--work, their family, avoiding the topic of relationships as much as possible, though Christy didn't mind talking about many of the men she'd been seeing. Whenever Christy asked about the upcoming trial, Bree tensed. She told them what she knew, as succinctly as possible. Cat Hadley was the last person on earth she wanted to talk about--except for maybe Monica Edge.

"Do you think the touring will expand?" Christy asked with a bite of pasta poised on her fork, ready to go into her mouth.

"I do," Bree said. "We'd hoped by now, we'd be doing a nationwide tour. With everything that happened, that wasn't possible, but now that I'm better, I think it will be."

"It would be so awesome to see you on the national late night TV shows," Hank said with a big smile.

It had always been one of Bree's dreams to do just that. Raising her hand, she crossed her fingers and said, "That's the dream."

"God, I hope that stupid bitch pleads guilty so you don't have to go to trial," Christy tossed in between bites.

That was also a dream for Bree. With all of the evidence against Cat, Bree was hoping she would just plead guilty and get it over with. Even if she didn't get as severe of a punishment that way, Bree thought it would be worth it to avoid a long trial, especially if Cat got at least twenty years in prison. That seemed like enough punishment for her to have an opportunity to change her ways. Right now, the district attorney was seeking life in prison. That would be fine, too, but if Bree had to choose between life in prison for Cat and a long trial or twenty years and no trial, she'd choose option B for sure.

"I hope so, too," Bree said in response to Christy's statement. A long trial would mean time away from her tour, a tour she desperately needed if she was going to get the national recognition Hank had mentioned. Seeing that Bree was uncomfortable, Christy asked, "How was the award ceremony, Trent? I bet you just loved getting up there on stage, having everyone stare at you." She laughed, her sarcasm making him blush.

"It was okay," he said with a shrug. "I didn't particularly like that part. I'm glad my company got the recognition it deserves, though. A lot of people have worked really hard to get us where we are." "Especially you." Bree squeezed his hand under the table again, beaming at him with pride. He never took the credit he deserved.

"As awkward as it was to have to give a speech, I bet it was even worse being in the same room with Monica that whole time," Christy said, her eyes on her pasta as she snorted and shook her head. "Talk about a stupid bitch." Bree's hand tensed on top of Trent's. She'd hoped Christy would have enough tact not to even bring up such a sore subject, but whether it was the wine she was guzzling or just her lack of good manners, it hadn't happened. "How did you know Monica was there?" Trent's words were measured as he looked across the table at the top of Christy's head.

She looked up, her eyes shifting from Trent to Bree and then back again. "Oh, uh, we saw a picture. On her social media." Her eyes shifted to Hank.

His eyes were wide, his face red. "Uh, yeah. We saw a picture she posted. That's all."

Slowly, Trent shifted his attention to Bree. "Did you know she was there?"

Why she felt as if she were the one in trouble, Bree wasn't sure. After all, he was the one who'd kept the information from her. She nodded, letting her head rock back and forth at a gentle pace.

She saw Trent swallow, watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "It wasn't pleasant either," he said.

It was clear he wanted to change the subject. As much as Bree wanted to know exactly what that statement meant, whether he was just saying it wasn't nice to be in the same room with her or if he'd actually spoken to her, she decided to let it go. They could talk about it later.

"So... the weather has been nice recently," Hank said, taking a deep breath.

Bree almost laughed. It was clear that he was just trying to alleviate the tension and change the subject. "Yes, yes it has been," Bree admitted. "I hear they're saying it might rain on Tuesday though."

"Speaking of rain!" Christy chimed in. "I was in Seattle for work two weeks ago. Holy cow!"

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The conversation continued around him, but Trent was clearly checked out of it. Bree did her best to carry on, glad that she got to spend some time with her friends, but in the back of her mind, she knew she needed to get home so that she could find out exactly what had happened with Monica, even if she didn't really want to know.

It was clear to Christy and Hank that, despite their best efforts to keep the discussion nonchalant, Trent and Bree had other matters they needed to talk about. A few minutes after the revelation that Monica had been at the awards ceremony, Christy declared, "Well, this has been so much fun! But... I'm afraid Hank and I need to be heading out. There are a couple of stops I wanna make before we hit the clubs." "Oh, already?" Bree asked because it seemed like the polite thing to say, not that she wasn't relieved to know she'd be able to talk to Trent in private in a few moments. "Yeah, I'm afraid so," Christy said. "But hey, good luck with your upcoming shows! I know they'll be awesome. It won't be too long before we'll be seeing you on TV." "Thank you," Bree said, sad to know it might be months before she got to see her friends again.

Christy gestured for the waiter to bring the check, but Trent waived her off. "I've got it. Really, it was just nice to see you guys."

"That's so sweet of you!" Christy said, never one to argue over the check.

"Thanks, man," Hank said. They stood, and Bree and Trent did as well to hug them and tell them goodbye. It was clear the strain was still there between Hank and Trent, but it didn't seem nearly as deep a chasm as it had been before. As Christy and Hank left the restaurant, the waiter brought the check. Trent had his card ready and handed it over without even looking at the bill. The waiter said he'd be right back, leaving them alone.

Bree wanted to wait until they were out of the restaurant before they had the discussion that was brewing because she had a feeling there would be yelling. As much as she hated yelling at Trent, and as rarely as it happened, this was one of those times when she could feel her emotions getting away from her. So she took a deep breath and stared at the far wall of the restaurant until the waiter returned and Trent signed the bill. Then, she slid out of the booth and walked with him out the door, praying she could keep her cool and be reasonable. Whenever Monica was involved, it was a lot less likely to go that way, but she'd do her best.