Page 20 of Marry Me Tomorrow
As the others dive into a spirited discussion about song requests for the band to play, I quietly observe, watching them input their selections into the small device on the table. Their laughter and animated chatter fill the space, and I can’t help but smile at their easy camaraderie.
These are Trent’s closest friends, and while I’ve met and interacted a bit with each of them during my time at the marina, seeing them like this—so relaxed, so tightly knit—stirs something inside me. A pang of sadness washes over me, heavy and familiar.
They are like family to each other. And alright, I know that Greg and Gwen are actual family, but there’s a bond between them all that I’ve never truly experienced. The sadness sits hard in my stomach, its weight like a stone.
What am I doing? Am I invading this lovely friend group by inserting myself into the picture? Would Trent have found a wife who might fit in better with these people than I can?
A strong, warm hand folds over mine. My heart skips, and when I glance over, Trent is watching me, his brow furrowed with quiet concern. I smile faintly, adjusting my position in the booth to hide my moment of vulnerability.
“So, what music do you like to dance to?” I ask him, flipping my hand over and lacing my fingers through his.
“I like most of the songs they do,” Trent says, gesturing to everyone in the booth, “but I don’t think I’ll request one tonight. Figured I’d sit back and enjoy what others select.”
Niall, who’s been half-listening, glances over with confusion etched across his face. “What? You’re not dancing?”
Trent shrugs, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. The gentle motion sends a ripple of warmth through me. “I mean, I’d rather sit here with my fiancée.”
“You not a dancer?” Niall asks me.
“Not really,” I say.
“Too bad,” Niall says. “You’ll be missing out with Trent here then.”
“He is quite the dancer,” Greg adds.
“Is he?” I ask. I can’t help but grin at Trent, who shimmies playfully.
“He is,” Holly says. “Dancing and karaoke I have to say are some of his best talents.”
“I had no idea,” I say. “Trent, you’ve been holding out on me. What’s your favorite karaoke song?”
Gwen leans in with a mischievous grin. “Oh, that’s easy. Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ is for sure his number one go-to song. Though he usually sings it with Margot, Holly’s sister.” Her phone buzzes, and she glances down. “Looks like your mom and I are in sync, Trent. She’s on board with me being the wedding planner.”
“Glad you could convince her,” Trent says.
“Like it was hard?” Gwen says.
Trent holds up his hands in mock defense.
“We’re meeting tomorrow,” says Gwen, “to start planning. Does that work for you all?”
“So soon?” Trent asks.
“I like to get the ball rolling,” says Gwen.
Trent looks at me for confirmation.
“Tomorrow sounds good to me,” I say. I don’t care when the wedding planning takes place, I’m just relieved that I won’t have to handle the details of the wedding alone. I’ve never been one for the logistics, not even for my art shows—I prefer to focus on creating and let others handle the rest. I actually wonder if Mrs. Hughes and Gwen would mind taking full rein over most of the details. With this being a wedding that I’ve thought of for less than twenty-four hours, I don’t have many ideas.
“If you have it at the marina,” Trent says in a joking tone, “I could probably pop in for a few minutes.” He winks at me.
“Hilarious, Trent,” Gwen says. “But I could make that work.”
The appetizers arrive, and the table erupts into motion. Plates are passed, and the sharp tang of marinara sauce mingles with the creamy richness of spinach dip. I sip my Dr Pepper, savoring the fizzy sweetness as I take in the lively atmosphere. The whimsical murals on the walls seem almost alive under the warm glow of the lights, each character frozen mid-performance.
I’m so absorbed in the details of the paintings that I don’t notice the other couples have left the booth until I see them out on the dance floor. Holly and Greg get into the rhythm of the song as they dance, and Gwen and Niall are alight with playful energy.
“They’re so perfect together,” I whisper to Trent, my eyes glued to the dance floor.
