Page 19 of Marry Me Tomorrow
She shakes her head, still smiling, before turning and continuing toward the booth where not only Gwen and Niall but also Holly and Greg sit waiting for us.
Chapter 8
Jenny
“Well, I was wondering when you two would make your way over here,” says Holly, her voice warm and inviting as she scoots over in the booth to make room. The soft murmur of the restaurant around us is punctuated by laughter and the occasional clinking of plates and glasses.
“It’s not like they could get lost in here,” laughs Gwen, leaning casually on the table. Her bright smile reflects the colorful murals on the walls. “By the way, Trent, I hear you have some big news to share with us?”
Trent nods. “I do. I know you and Niall have talked with Jenny a handful of times at the marina, but let me officially introduce her as my fiancée.”
“Congratulations, mate!” Niall says, his smile as big as the sun.
“So,” Gwen says, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes like she’s solving a crime in one of her books, “I might be the only one brave enough to say it, but this engagement caught us all by surprise. I mean, you two have only known each other a few months, right? We didn’t even know you were seeing each other and then wham! engaged.”
A beat of silence follows. A few exchanged glances. Greg lets out a low whistle.
“She’s not wrong,” says Greg, his brows raised like he’s waiting for an explanation. “I mean, I work with you both and didn’t know.”
“Of course I’m not wrong,” replies Gwen. “So why all the secrecy? We didn’t even know you were dating.”
Trent shifts beside me, clearing his throat. I see the flicker of panic in his eyes
“Well,” Trent starts, “we just—”
The tension coils in my stomach. If I don’t jump in, he might fumble this.
“Didn’t want anyone to know,” I cut in quickly. “I mean, wouldn’t that look bad? I step in to manage the marina and then end up dating my boss? We didn’t want anyone to know in case things didn’t work out.”
Where that lie came from, I’ll never know. But Trent’s shoulders dropping in relief tells me I made the right call.
“She’s not wrong,” says Niall.
“That’s true,” Gwen says, her suspicious gaze bouncing between the two of us like she’s scanning for cracks in our story.
I force a smile, hoping she doesn’t dig deeper. “We kind of hit it off from the get-go. And with Trent saving my life the first time we met, it wasn’t hard for me to fall for him.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, my pulse picking up.
Holly gasps, smacking Greg on the arm. “I knew that would happen! I knew it. I saw a spark of something between them that first day.”
“Well, with how much easier my life became when Jenny started at the marina, it didn’t take much for me to grow fond of her,” Trent says, finally leaning back, his usual confidence returning.
The tension breaks. Greg lets out a chuckle. Niall shakes his head. Gwen, however, is still watching us, her lips pursed like she’s debating whether to push further.
“How about you stop blocking the booth so we can all sit down and get some food ordered?” Trent adds smoothly.
“Of course you’d be thinking about the food, Trent,” Niall says, shaking his head.
“In any case,” Gwen says, stepping aside, “I would love to offer my event planning services to you.”
“Oh wow,” I say, “that’s so nice. You really don’t have to—”
Gwen stops me with a raise of her hand. “Nonsense. Trent has always been like a brother to me, and I would be honored to help you plan the event.”
“You might have to get in line,” chuckles Trent, sliding into the booth beside me. His shoulder brushes mine as he leans back, a faint scent of his cologne mingling with the spicy aroma of appetizers being carried to nearby tables. “I could see the wheels turning in my mom’s head the moment she heard the news.”
“Good point,” Gwen replies with a knowing smirk, pulling out her phone. “Let me text her now so she doesn’t go and get Emily Emerson to plan the event. Emily is always trying to swoop in and take my business. Give me one second, guys. This is for the good of Trent and Jenny’s wedding. I’ve seen Emily’s work, and while she’s good, she’s not me.” She taps rapidly on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen.
Our server arrives, and we all place our orders, along with a selection of appetizers for the table. The smell of frying cheese and tangy buffalo sauce wafts through the air as another table nearby receives their food.
