Meant to Marry Me

Trent sat in the waiting room with his hands folded and his elbows on his knees. A nurse had come out a few minutes ago to tell him that the skin graft was going well, that they'd removed the skin from Bree's thigh and they were getting ready to start working on her hand. He was glad to hear everything was going as planned, but the entire situation made him nervous. He wished it was him in there instead of her.

Even though he'd been the one to run through the flames, the burns on his legs were not that serious. The doctor had given him some cream to apply a few times a day and to keep it covered for about a week. He thought he'd make a full recovery, though there might be some superficial scars.

Bree, on the other hand, was in surgery. How had this happened?

He actually knew the answer to that question. He knew Cat had started the fire. She had to be the one behind it. No one else was that angry at Bree. He knew that Zach had talked to the police and told them that he thought that Cat was behind it, and they were looking into it. They'd found out she'd been able to post bond pretty quickly and was actually out at the time the fire was set--and it was definitely set. The fire department was calling it arson. He hoped Cat would be charged with multiple counts of attempted murder and get locked up for so long she'd never see the light of day again. Clearly, she had something very wrong with her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was Bree's mom again, wanting an update. He couldn't help but smile because it had only been about ten minutes since he'd sent the last text. He appreciated how much Bree's parents loved her. Answering, he assured her, "Everything is still going well."

"Oh, Trent I still think we should head that way," Judy said.

"I know, but she really wants you to wait," he reminded the worried mother. As soon as she's out of surgery, I'll let you know." Reluctantly, Judy agreed and disconnected the call. He had a feeling she'd be calling back in ten minutes or less.

Glad to have the small waiting area to himself, Trent put the phone back in his pocket and ran his hands through his hair. He still smelled smoke every time he did that. He couldn't wait to get home and take a shower, to sleep in his own bed, with Bree. Hopefully, she wouldn't have any trouble sleeping since she'd been awoken so abruptly the last time. He imagined the doctors would give her plenty of pain medication.

Bree was so important to him. He couldn't fathom his life without her. In fact, this situation made him think perhaps it was time he took things to the next level. Granted, he'd just been engaged to Monica a few months ago and had been within minutes of marrying her. But this was different. He knew without a doubt Bree was the one for him. Perhaps now was the time to start thinking about picking out a ring--and actually proposing, something he'd never done before since Monica had basically just decided they were going to get married.

As he was contemplating rather or not it was too soon to move forward, a nurse came out. "The surgery is over, Mr. Walker. They'll take Bree to recovery, and you'll be allowed to see her soon. She's doing well. I'll come back and get you as soon as she's awake."

"Thank you," Trent said, feeling relief wash over him. Even though he'd known Bree was in good hands, it was wonderful to hear that she was okay. He sent a text to her parents to let them know the news and then sat back, taking a few deep breaths. He couldn't wait to see Bree.