Page 32 of Marry Me Tomorrow
Greg smirks. “Relax, man. I’m not saying blab to anyone. Just talk to Jenny. You owe it to yourself—and her.”
We head out to Greg’s car, his words still rattling around in my mind. “That’s exactly it, though,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat. “What if she only wants to stick to the original plan? What if she’s not open to forever?”
“Then wouldn’t you rather know now, before you say ‘I do’? At least then you can prepare your heart.”
I let out a dry laugh. “When did you get so wise? I seem to remember giving you advice not too long ago. How did our roles reverse?”
“That’s life,” Greg says with a shrug. “Something happens, and it shifts your whole perspective. For better or worse. And I’m willing to bet that in this case, it’s for the better.”
By the time we arrive at the shop to get fitted for our suits, Gwen, my mom, and Niall are already there, chatting with the attendant.
“There he is!” my mom exclaims, rushing over to pull me into a hug.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hughes,” Greg says with a wink. “I wouldn’t let him miss this.”
“Hey, mate,” Niall says, clapping me on the back. “Ready for the big day? It’s coming up fast.”
“As ready as I can be,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light.
We follow Gwen and the attendant to the fitting area. The tan suits Gwen picked out aren’t traditional, but they’re sharp—springlike, as she put it. The white shirts add a crisp touch, and by the end of the fitting, I have to admit, we clean up pretty well.
“Don’t forget, you and Jenny are coming over tonight for dinner,” my mom says for the hundredth time as we’re leaving.
“How could I forget, Mom? Six o’clock on the dot, I promise.”
I give her another hug, but as we head out, my mind drifts back to Greg’s words. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to have that conversation with Jenny—before it’s too late.
“How did the fitting go?” Jenny asks as I step into the marina shop, the late afternoon light spilling through the large windows and casting golden streaks across the floor. The familiar scent of cedarwood polish and faint gasoline from the dock fills the air. Jenny is behind the counter, her hands busy sorting receipts into neat piles, though her eyes lift to meet mine with a spark of curiosity.
“Good,” I say, pulling off my cap and ruffling my hair. “The guys and I got our suits. Gotta say, we look pretty sharp. And my dad and Henry are supposed to go in tomorrow.” She grins, the corners of her mouth pulling upward in a way that makes me forget whatever else I was going to say.
“Good, good,” she says. “Umm, your mom called. She wanted me to remind you not to forget dinner at their house tonight.”
I laugh, a low rumble escaping before I can stop it. Jenny tilts her head. “What’s so funny?”
“I just left her, and she reminded me there too. Does she think I’d forget in the fifteen minutes it takes to get from the shop to here?”
Jenny chuckles softly, the sound light and musical. “Well, you have been a bit . . . spaced out lately. Maybe she’s worried you’d lose track.”
That statement pulls me up short. “I’ve been spaced out?”
She nods, her smile fading slightly as concern creeps into her expression. “Yeah, probably not noticeable to most people, but I can tell. You haven’t seemed like yourself the past few days.”
Her words settle like a weight in my chest, and I stare at her dumbfounded. My mind scrambles to replay the last week—had I been so consumed by my own thoughts that I’d been neglecting her? Neglecting my responsibilities?
“Trent,” she says softly, her voice like a gentle nudge, “do you not want to go through with this anymore? Are you regretting our decision to get married?”
Her question catches me off guard, and I see the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “What?” I say. “No. Why would you think that?”
That’s the complete opposite of what I’ve been thinking.
She hesitates, her hands stilling on the stack of papers. “I don’t know,” she says softly. “It’s just . . . I’ve been left before, and I don’t think I could go through that again. I know this is just an agreement between us that will end, something temporary for a year, and I’m not expecting you to stick around forever. That’s not what we agreed to. But the thought of standing up at the altar only to be left again unexpectedly . . . I don’t think I could handle that.”
I step closer, reaching out to take her hands in mine. Her fingers are cool to the touch, and I squeeze them gently. “Look at me, please.”
Her gaze lifts, and the unshed tears lining her blue eyes cut through me.
“I don’t regret this—any of this. You’ve been a bright light in what could have been a really dark situation my granddad put me in. Did I want to have to get married to keep the marina? No, of course not.”
