Page 23 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“I got up a little early myself,” I say, leaning casually on the counter.
“Really?” Jenny asks.
“Yes, I want to get a few things done at the marina before my mom and Gwen get here. That way, I can make sure to have some extra time for the wedding planning.”
“Oh, good!” Jenny says, her tone a mix of relief and excitement. “I don’t know the first thing about weddings and didn’t really grow up dreaming about my perfect wedding.” She raises her hand as more words spill out. “Not that this has to be my dream wedding or anything, not that I’d even know what that was . . . What I mean is . . .”
Smiling, I step closer and gently take her hand. “Jenny, it’s okay. Even if this marriage isn’t forever, you can still have the wedding you want. Start thinking about what’s important to you, because, trust me, my mom is going to go all out—me being her only kid and all.”
“Oh no,” she says, her voice dropping with worry. “Won’t it break her heart when we get divorced?”
“We’ll worry about that later,” I say, releasing her hand as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “And, Jenny, trust me. You’re doing my mom and me both a favor. I don’t know if I’d have ever gotten married otherwise. The marina has been my sole focus for years—there hasn’t been much time for dating, let alone finding a wife. My mom always said the marina was like my family. And I guess now it actually gets to be, with you here and all.”
She pauses, considering my words, before nodding slowly. “I guess that’s kind of true, huh? Especially with us both living at the marina.”
As she turns to input something into the computer, I feel a nervous energy rise in me.
“So . . . I was thinking,” I start, then clear my throat. “You know how you’ll be moving in with me when we’re married?”
“Yes,” Jenny says.
“Well, I was thinking about my house and how soon it will be our house. And I wanted to let you know that I want it to feel like your home too. You’re welcome to do anything you want to it.”
Jenny spins around, her eyes wide with surprise. “Thanks, Trent, that means a lot.”
“Of course,” I say. “So whenever you want to come by and look at it, let me know. You can start planning what you want to add or change before you officially move in. I’m open to about anything. Changing the living area, kitchen, the bedroom.” My cheeks burn, and I know they must be red. “I mean bedrooms,” I add quickly. “I’m not assuming we’ll share a room or anything like that.”
I rub the back of my neck, struggling to explain myself. Why is this so hard? “What I’m trying to say is, there’s the room I stay in, obviously, but I have two extra rooms. You can pick from either one and make it your own. And I’ve thought about your painting too. I want you to keep the cabin you’re in now as an art studio. If you’d like.”
By now, my face is on fire, so I shut up and stick my hands in my back pockets, slowly backing away. Her expression softens, and unshed tears shimmer in her eyes.
“Wait,” she says softly, stopping me before I can retreat. “You don’t have to go. And thank you—that’s such a sweet offer. I’ve always dreamed of having my own art studio, somewhere I can just create without having to clean up every time. I appreciate it.”
“I want you to feel happy here, Jenny.”
She smiles at me. “I think I will be.”
“Want to drop by my house tonight? After the marina closes?”
“That sounds great,” she says.
I grin at her. “Well, now that that’s settled, I need to get going on work at the marina before Mom and Gwen get here. Bye.”
I hightail it out of there as calmly as I can, feeling like my face might still be on fire. Once I’m outside, I round the corner and lean against the wall of the building, letting out a long breath. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve acquired a fiancée, and now we’re making plans for when she will move in with me. What more can this day bring?
Chapter 10
Jenny
Trent scurries out the door, his ears pink from embarrassment. A soft smile spreads across my face as I glance back at the counter where the morning sunlight streams through the windows, casting a warm glow across the worn wood.
I don’t know what I’ve done in life to deserve a guy as sweet as Trent. Not that he’s mine, per se, but at least he’s mine for now. That counts for something, right? Bonus: I get my very own art studio.
He likely doesn’t realize it, but when he’d offered me that space, I could’ve swooned right then and there. It’s like a book lover being handed a library, complete with a comfy chair and one of those rolling ladders. My mind buzzes with possibilities as I picture how I’d rearrange my cabin once I move into Trent’s house—easels by the windows for natural light, shelves for paints and brushes, maybe even a little table for sketching.
The thought keeps me buoyant as I finish my morning tasks. The familiar buzz of the shop surrounds me: the soft creak of the door opening, the clink of bait buckets against the counter, and the murmur of customers chatting. Before I know it, the steady rhythm of work carries me into late morning, until a pair of determined figures stride in.
Mrs. Hughes and Gwen arrive looking ready for battle, binders tucked under their arms. They look striking in their professional attire—Mrs. Hughes in a pencil skirt and a flowing yellow and white blouse, Gwen in a tailored black pantsuit with a vibrant purple button-down. The faint scent of citrusy perfume drifts through the air as they pass by the counter, their heels clicking against the floor. These are women who get things done, and the energy they exude is equal parts inspiring and intimidating.
