Page 42 of Marry Me Tomorrow
Trent Hughes.
I am getting married.
Somehow that thought doesn’t freak me out. I thought it would, but it does the opposite. My stomach twists in anticipation—yes, I’m nervous—but a sense of rightness settles over me.
I’m getting married today. To Jenny.
I take a deep breath, letting the reality sink in. I’m the luckiest man in the world.
The morning rushes by in a blur, each moment slipping past me in a haze of motion and anticipation. Before I know it, I’m standing before the altar, dressed in my tan suit—pants, vest, white shirt, and pink tie neatly in place. Greg and Niall stand by my side.
We wait in silence as the guests file in, the anticipation thick in the air. The location couldn’t have been more perfect—cherry blossoms in full bloom, their soft pink petals fluttering gently in the breeze. The white chairs are neatly arranged in rows and adorned with delicate pink and yellow flowers at the ends of each section, adding a touch of elegance.
A wooden arch stands behind me, its beams decorated with the same pink and yellow blooms, creating a stunning backdrop. Through the opening in the trees, the lake stretches out before us, reflecting the crystal clear blue sky, serene and expansive. The gentle lapping of waves serves as a soothing backdrop to the quiet hum of the day.
Soft music fills the air, carried by the breeze and the DJ set up just off to the side. The crowd whispers softly, a quiet lull as they settle into their seats, anticipation humming just beneath the surface.
I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, savoring the stillness. This couldn’t have been a more perfect location. The perfect weather.
Our wedding.
Jenny and I are getting married.
Am I really doing this?
The music shifts, signaling the bridesmaids’ entrance. Gwen appears first, followed by Holly. My heart races as they take their slow, steady steps, each movement graceful and deliberate. They reach their spots, their faces serene, their smiles soft.
“All rise,” the officiant says, his voice clear and steady. The music changes again, and the opening notes of Bruno Mars’ “Marry You” begin to play. Now, as the familiar melody fills the air, all my nerves dissolve. A smile spreads across my face, and I let out a quiet laugh, the tension in my chest easing.
Then I see her.
Jenny steps into view, her grandpa Henry by her side, looking dashing in his tan suit. His hand rests gently on her arm, guiding her forward with quiet pride. Jenny’s curls fall gracefully over one shoulder, and her dress billows gently as she moves. She looks like a princess from a fairy tale, every step elegant and effortless.
For a moment, I forget to breathe. It isn’t until I hear Greg’s soft whisper from my side— “You’ve got this, man” —that I finally exhale, the sound shaky.
I meet Jenny’s eyes, and a smile lights up her face. My smile must be dopey, but I can’t help it. She is stunning—radiant, glowing in a way that feels otherworldly. My eyes sting with unshed tears, but I ignore them, not wanting to break our eye contact.
The song, with its carefree lyrics about finding something dumb to do, seems laughably misplaced. Because choosing to marry Jenny feels anything but dumb—it feels right.
We are really doing this.
Henry presses a kiss to Jenny’s cheek before gently placing her hand in mine. “Be good to her, sonny,” he says, his eyes alight with happiness.
“I will,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.
Taking her hand in mine, we step forward together up the last few steps toward the arch where the officiant waits. Jenny hands her bouquet to Holly, her fingers brushing mine in a lingering touch before she lets go.
The officiant begins, his voice steady and calm, but his words barely register in my mind. My attention is consumed by Jenny—the way she holds my gaze, the unwavering steadiness of her smile. She’s a beacon, a lifeline, grounding me in a moment that feels both surreal and monumental.
“Ladies and gentleman, family and friends,” the officiant says, his tone warm and inviting, “we are gathered here today to celebrate and hold witness to one of life’s greatest moments—the union of two wonderful people, Trenton Hughes and Jenny Monroe, as they come together in marriage. Marriage is more than just an exchange of rings or a legal contract . . .”
The mention of a contract lands like a stone in my chest. For a brief, sharp moment, the weight of our arrangement presses down on me, threatening to unravel the calm I’ve carefully maintained.
Jenny’s hand tightens around mine, her grip firm yet comforting. The subtle squeeze sends a jolt of reassurance through me, a reminder that I’m not alone in this. We’re in this together.
When we reach the vows, the officiant’s voice becomes a steady rhythm in the background as I focus entirely on Jenny. I promise to love and honor her, to stand beside her in good times and bad, to support her and remain faithful to her for as long as we both shall live. The words flow effortlessly, as though they’ve been etched into my heart long before this moment.
Jenny repeats her vows, her voice steady and filled with an unshakable warmth. Her eyes brim with joy, radiating a happiness so genuine that it feels like sunlight breaking through a storm. There isn’t a hint of hesitation or regret in her expression, and it strikes me how perfectly she fits this moment—how perfectly we fit together.
