Meant to Marry Me

Trent was asleep when Bree snuck into the bedroom. She could tell he had been exhausted when he'd gotten home because his suit was haphazardly tossed on the end of the bed and not hung on a hanger and placed in the "to be dry cleaned" section of his closet. She smiled and picked up his jacket, holding it up in hopes of catching a whiff of his cologne. It was there, but so was a faint scent of floral perfume. Assuming that had to be because Celia had been next to him all night long, Bree put the jacket down and tried not to be upset. Who knows whose cologne might be on her? She'd hugged every male member of her band that night--and some stage hands--and Hank. Deciding she was being silly, she headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Regardless of whose cologne may have collected on her, she definitely smelled of cigarette smoke and stale beer.

Once she was finished, she wrapped her wet hair up and secured it with a specially designed towel that would keep her pillows from getting wet and help insure she woke up with beautiful soft waves, and slid into the bed next to Trent, wearing one of his old T-shirts. There'd be no messing around tonight. He was still out of it, but she did want to wrap her arms around him. They'd been through so much. She wished he was awake so she could kiss him goodnight. As much as she tried to avoid waking him, the moment her lips touched his, Trent moaned a little and then opened his eyes. "Sorry." Bree whispered.

"No, it's okay," he muttered. "How was your show?"

"Good. Great, actually. How was the ceremony?"

The sound he made this time was more of a groan than a moan. "I really don't want to talk about it right now. Can I tell you in the morning?"

"Sure," she said, slightly disappointed. She wanted to hear from him that everything was fine, despite Monica being there. The fact that he'd come home and gone to sleep, rather than calling her and seeing where she was at so he could meet her there, told her things hadn't been that great, though.

"I'm glad your show went well," he said, his voice still groggy with sleep.

"Thanks." Bree scooted away from him, certain he wanted to go back to dreamland. It wasn't what she wanted. She was still awake enough that she would've loved to talk about their experiences and then made love and fallen asleep together, but that wasn't always the way things went, and he was clearly exhausted. So... she scooted away from him and tried to calm herself down enough to drift off herself.

It was hard. She kept thinking about the show. It had been so great. And then there was seeing Sam for the first time in so long. She wrinkled her nose, thinking of him. Catching up with Christy and Hank had been so much fun. But then seeing Monica there at the ceremony where Trent had been made her angry. She didn't even know if he'd spoken to her, but Bree hated the fact that she'd gotten to see him accept his award when Bree hadn't.

Eventually, she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes again, sunlight was filtering through the blinds, and Trent was gone. She listened carefully, blinking her eyes against the bright sun and a slight headache, which didn't seem fair when she hadn't drank nearly as much as she'd wanted to. Hearing Trent in the kitchen, she threw back the blankets, planning to go talk to him, right after a quick pit stop in the bathroom.

He was making breakfast. He had his back to her, dressed in a dark green T-shirt and striped pajama pants. She stood and took him in for a moment, admiring his muscular frame. He hadn't shaved, and the stubble along his cheek and chin made him even hotter, if that was possible.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, and turned his head in her direction. "Are you spying on me?" he asked with a chuckle, turning back to the pancakes he was making.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

"Just admiring the view," she replied, wishing she was wearing something sexier than his old T-shirt. Not that he was likely to deny her if she made a move. "Need some help?"

"Nope. Just about done." He turned and smiled at her before taking the pancake out of the griddle and placing it on top of a large stack. He brought it over to the table where everything else was waiting. "You woke up right on time." His lips were warm when he leaned in to kiss her, and she could've forgone the pancakes and hauled him back to bed, if she didn't know he would be disappointed that all his hard work had been for not.

Instead, Bree took a seat and fixed herself a plate, pouring extra syrup on top of her short stack, hoping the sugar would help wake her up. She'd need to take something for her headache, too, but that would have to wait. "How was the ceremony?" she asked between bites.

Trent groaned and finished chewing. "It was... okay," he said shrugging. "It really was just one of those things you're glad is over."

She nodded, understanding what he meant. Was he going to tell her about Monica? "Did Celia have a good time?"

"Yeah, I think so. Except...." He made a face, his empty fork hanging in the air. "She seemed to enjoy herself most of the time."

Bree had to wonder what it was about Celia he wasn't telling her. There was something--clearly. She was just about to ask a follow up question when he asked her, "Did you see Sam?"

It caught her off guard. It seemed so odd for him to be asking about her ex when he had yet to mention his. "Yeah. I saw him. We said hi. That was about it. I also saw... Hank." Now, it was Trent's turn to be caught off guard. He stared at her for a moment. "Really? Where?"

"Uh... at the concert."

"I figured. I mean, did he come back stage?"

"He did. He was with Christy. We all went out for drinks after the show and got caught up on things."

"Huh." Trent still looked stunned, like he wasn't sure what to make of that. "Well, I'm glad you got to see him. I know the two of you have always been good friends."

She cleared her throat. "The two of you have always been good friends, too." Was she pushing too hard? Maybe she should let this go.

"Yeah, of course we were. I just... I don't think I'm ready to see him yet, Bree."

It was an honest answer, one she'd have to respect. "Okay," she said quietly. "Well, if you ever change your mind, he does want to see you. And... he wants to meet Celia." Trent had been mid-chew. Her sentence caused him to inhale quickly and choke. He coughed a few times and then took a drink of his coffee before repeating, "Celia?" "Are you okay?" she asked, pretty sure he was, but thinking she should at least ask.

"I'm fine. Just... surprised. How does he even know Celia?"

"He doesn't. He saw a picture of her. On social media. The two of you at the ceremony."

His forehead crinkled. "I didn't post any pictures. Whose account was it?"

Bree didn't want to tell him. She wanted him to tell her about Monica. She decided to say, "I'm not sure," even though she was. "Anyway, she's single, isn't she?" "Yes, she's single." That answer came quickly. "I'm not really sure Hank is her type, though."

"What is her type?" Bree was curious as to how Trent knew what sort of guys Celia liked. Her forehead crinkled as she stabbed a bite of pancake a little too roughly.

"I don't know," Trent shrugged. "Someone a little more... loyal, maybe?"

"I know Hank wasn't loyal to you, not the way a best friend should be. But he was loyal to Monica. He's loyal to girlfriends."

Trent stared at her for a few moments, and Bree knew she'd irritated him. The idea that she should apologize or try to say something to make her last comment less offensive came to mind, but she was irritated, too. He still hadn't even mentioned Monica was there last night.

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Fine," Bree said, wondering if there was a way she could arrange for Hank to meet Celia anyway. It seemed stupid to want to go behind Trent's back and do something he obviously didn't want her to, but she felt like maybe Hank and Celia would be a good fit. Besides, Trent seemed awfully protective of his work associate. Not mentioning Monica was sort-of going behind her back, wasn't it? Bree blew out a long breath and decided not to say anymore. She certainly wasn't going to demand Trent tell her that he'd seen his ex-fiancée the night before. That was dumb. She needed to let it go. Maybe he thought he was protecting her by not mentioning that Monica was there.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked her, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

"I don't know," Bree said, trying not to sound angry. "Christy and Hank are still in town. They asked if we wanted to go to lunch. I guess you don't?"

He looked away, his face sharpening as he considered what it would be like to see Hank again. After a long moment, he turned back to her. "Does it mean that much to you that I go?"

She wanted to say yes--because it did. She wanted Trent and Hank to patch things up and go back to being friends again, but she knew she was asking an awful lot of him, and that didn't seem fair. "It's up to you." "Would you feel awkward going by yourself?"

"No, of course not. I just... would like to spend the day with you if I can."

He nodded and looked down at his plate of half-eaten pancakes. It seemed pretty apparent he wouldn't be eating any more. When he finally looked up at her, it was to ask, "What time?"

"She didn't say, but knowing Christy, I'd guess around one or two."

"Give me some time to think about it?"

"Yeah."

Trent nodded in thanks and then pushed back from the table, taking his plate to scrape it in the trash. Bree wasn't all that hungry either, but she continued to put small bites in her mouth. He walked by and squeezed her shoulder on the way out of the room, and she felt sorry for pushing it. She should've just told Christy no. She should've never mentioned Celia. She should've never worried about Monica.

But that last one continued to bother her as she finished up her breakfast. Why hadn't he mentioned she was there?