Meant to Marry Me

It was a thought he'd entertained many times over the last several months since he'd called off the wedding. "It's... complicated." That was the best he could do.

His response wasn't good enough for Celia. "Well, unless she's just become a horribly bitter woman since you left her ass, I can't imagine she was ever good enough for you." "No, I don't think that's it," Trent began. "I mean... she's not a horrible person. I know she seemed like it tonight."

"Yeah, she did!" Celia spat. "Are you sure about that? Why did the two of you break up?"

"It's a long story," he replied dismissively.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

"Do you have something else to talk about while we're in this limo together for the next twenty minutes?" she asked, shifting around so that she was looking at him.

"No, I guess not," he admitted. Trent took a deep breath. He'd spent much of the last several months trying to forget about Monica. Everything about his relationship with the model left a sour taste in his mouth. Celia was his friend, though, and she'd gone to a lot of trouble to be there with him on a night that ended up being uncomfortable for her, too. "We met in college. I'd just broken up with another girl. Over Bree."

"You knew Bree in college?" Celia asked.

"I've known Bree since elementary school." He was under the impression everyone knew that, but he guessed it was a little silly to assume everyone kept up with the backstories of popular country songs. "Really?" Celia asked, slightly stunned. "I guess I didn't realize."

"Yeah. I had a crush on her in high school. But every time something almost happened, someone would ruin it." He had realized after the situation with Monica that most of those happenings revolved around Hank, but that wasn't pertinent to the story now. He wanted to keep his recap as short as possible. "So... my girlfriend before Monica was jealous of Bree. We saw her on a visit back home. I broke up with her, and Monica asked me out. Before long, we were engaged."

"You must've loved her to ask her to marry you."

"I did love her," Trent agreed. He had loved Monica, but in a different way than the way he felt about Bree. He wasn't about to go into all of that at the moment either. "But I didn't ask her to marry me." That was also complicated. "We sort of just went ring shopping."

"Seriously? That woman is... a manipulating bitch!" Celia sounded personally wounded.

Her anger toward someone she'd just met almost made him laugh, but Trent stifled his chuckle. Why he thought anything was humorous at the moment, he couldn't explain, but there was something about her fury that made him want to laugh. "Anyway, the day before the wedding, Bree told me that my best man had shown her some pictures of himself with Monica, pictures Bree swiped from him, so she could show me, too. When I confronted Monica, she said it had happened once a long time ago, but at the wedding, I realized she had her engagement ring on in the pictures, so it couldn't have been that long ago. So... I walked out. And I went to Bree, and I knew immediately she had been right when she wrote the song. We were meant to be together."

Celia listened to him spew the story in a quick, tense voice, her eyes widening several times, her mouth dropping open when she heard how he'd figured it all out and walked away. "Wow!" she finally said. "That took some balls." That was all she said, which left him confused. "What took some balls?"

"All of it. Your best man slept with her? She slept with him? Bree stole the pictures and told you? And you left her at the altar? All of that. But then, the fact that Bree sang a song she wrote for you about marrying you at your wedding to someone else... well, that's probably the ballsiest thing I've ever heard."

Nodding, Trent said, "I have to agree with you there. She definitely knew what she had to do and followed through with it."

Celia's head rocked back and forth a few times as she turned back around, staring ahead blankly, though he could see her eyes moving as she thought through all he'd revealed. Eventually, she made a low humming noise and said, "What about him?"

"What about who?" Trent asked, his mind already slipping to other things.

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"The best man. What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Trent said with a shrug. "I didn't do anything to him."

"Why not? He slept with your fiancée."

"I know, but Hank had been my best friend since fifth grade. I couldn't do anything to him."

"He sure the hell didn't have a problem doing something to you," she pointed out. "You just let him get away with it?"

"I wouldn't say that." Trent shifted uncomfortably, ran a hand along his jaw. He was tired and just wanted to go home. They were almost to Celia's neighborhood. "I haven't really spoken to him since it happened, but he's been suffering, too. He was in love with Monica before I even started dating her. If I had known, I never would've gone out with her to begin with. She wouldn't date him seriously because he's a personal trainer, and she didn't think that was good enough for her. So... she just strung him along."

"Sounds like you're making excuses if you ask me," she muttered. "I would've punched him in the face. And he would've deserved it."

Trent couldn't disagree that Hank had deserved to be punched in the face, but that just wasn't his way. He shrugged and looked out the window. "I think... losing both of us was probably bad enough for him."

"So she broke up with him, too?"

"Not at first but soon enough, yes."

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"Huh," Celia said and went quiet again. The car was almost to her apartment building before she said anything else. "Well, Monica is a bitch. I'm glad someone stopped you from marrying her. You deserve so much better." "Thank you." Trent reached over and put his hand on her arm, hoping she knew how much he meant the gratitude.

Her face flushed slightly, and he pulled his hand away. Surely, she hadn't misinterpreted the action, had she?

"And if Bree ever does anything like that to you, I'll cut her balls off."

Trent's eyebrows shot up as his mouth dropped open. He wasn't sure if he should laugh, defend Bree's innocence, or thank Celia. There wasn't much time for any of those things. The driver pulled up to her building and stopped the car, and a moment later, her door was open.

Celia said, "Thanks so much for taking me, Trent. I had a good time, despite the bitch. Your speech was great."

"Thank you, Celia," Trent said, smiling at her. "I'm glad you were able to come."

She leaned over and quickly pecked him on the cheek before darting out of the car.

The move was innocent enough, but as soon as Celia was gone and the door was closed, Trent's hand flew to his cheek, swiping at the place where her warm lips had touched his flesh. He'd have to make sure there wasn't any lipstick there so that Bree didn't ask any questions. Not that he wouldn't tell her the truth; she'd deserve that. But there was no reason for her to worry about Celia. None at all.

As the driver got back in the car, Trent weighed the idea of going to meet Bree. Her show was likely done by now. She might be going out with Christy or the band. Maybe both. He should join them.

But he wasn't dressed for it. And he was tired. Instead, he let the car continue on its way to his apartment, hoping Bree had a great time, and she'd be home soon. He needed to see her, but he needed to have her to himself as well.