Page 46 of Marry Me Tomorrow
I close my eyes and think back to the feel of his hands, the way his calloused fingers had hesitated before undoing the first button, like he was afraid to overstep. That same flicker of nervousness had been in his gaze when I had asked him to help with my dress. Sweet, considerate Trent, always so careful of my boundaries.
The memory of his hands grazing my back as he worked his way down the line of buttons sends a shiver through me. It was such an intimate moment, far more so than I’d expected.
Trent had to feel that connection too, didn’t he? Is he feeling the same way I am? He must be. I grab my phone from the nightstand, ready to call Trent, to tell him how I feel, that he should come back in this room with me. But I can’t seem to push the call button. It’s too much. Too soon.
The ceremony was everything I could have hoped for and more—a fairy tale come to life. I want to convince myself that the wedding, the kiss, this life together is all real. That our connection, Trent’s care, his love—is all genuine. That this man chose me out of the billions of women in the world to share his life with. That he loves and cares for me.
But it’s not real.
We made a deal, and I’ve committed myself to holding up my end of the bargain. Falling for Trent was never part of the plan.
I hover over the call button for a long moment, my chest tight. I can rein these feelings in. I have to. I can’t let my emotions take over. Allowing myself to become emotionally attached, knowing there’s an inevitable end, is only setting myself up for more heartache—something I’m not sure I can endure.
I set my phone face down on the bedside table, as if that will keep it from tempting me again. With a flick of the light switch, the room plunges into darkness. Forest shadows stretch out around me, the faint hum of the night settling into a gentle backdrop.
Tomorrow, everything will feel simpler. It has to.
“Good morning,” I say, walking down the stairs.
“Good morning, wife,” Trent responds.
My heart skips a beat at the word wife, the familiar yet surreal sound causing my hand to pause mid-motion. I’m a wife now. Trent’s wife. It still feels like a dream, and the weight of that reality hits me with a mix of wonder and uncertainty.
“I’m all packed up and ready to go,” I say, placing my bags by the door. “Though we could just stay here, and no one would be the wiser.”
Before the final words leave my mouth, Trent is already shaking his head, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “No can do, Wifey. After our quick engagement, we can’t risk skipping a honeymoon. My grandfather and everyone else expects us to go. Plus, it’ll be nice to get away for a bit. Help us get to know each other better, have some fun along the way.”
“You always have to keep busy, don’t you?” I say, arching an eyebrow as I eye him.
Trent pauses. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it before. It’s just been me at the marina for so long, I guess I got used to being busy. I don’t often get the chance to just sit and enjoy the view. Most of the time, I’m rushing to get into the office, prepping boats for the day, or fixing things in the cabins. It’s nice when I get to relax for a bit.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do on our ‘honeymoon,’” I say, finishing with air quotes. “Instead of running around keeping busy the whole time, let’s do things that are more relaxing—just enjoy nature and each other.”
“You know what, Wifey?” Trent says, his smile genuine. “I think that’s a brilliant plan.”
“If you’re ready to go, then we can hit the road. It's just under four hours to get to the cabin in Gatlinburg.”
We pick up our bags and pile into the truck. The first part of the drive is quiet, the miles stretching out ahead of us. I stare out the window, the landscape blurring into a wash of green and fog. Even though it’s only been about twenty minutes, the tension sitting between us is impossible to ignore.
“Okay,” I say, shifting in my seat to face him. “Is it just me, or does this feel a little awkward to you too?”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth before he answers. “Honestly, I was just thinking that. I don’t know why—it’s not like we’ve never spent time with each other before. We’re just two people who happen to be married, going on a honeymoon.”
I laugh. “Well, when you say it like that, I guess there’s no reason we should feel awkward. It’s not like we’ll be sharing a bed or anything.”
My cheeks flush at my own implication.
“Right,” Trent responds with mock seriousness, his tone light. “I did make sure to book a cabin that has two rooms.”
I adjust the radio, and we settle into a comfortable rhythm—singing along with the music or chatting about nothing in particular.
Honestly, I have no idea why I was so nervous about this trip. Trent has always been kind, always steady. He’s never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable. It’s my own insecurities. I have to remind myself that I’m no longer the cast-off kid living with her grandparents, hoping that she’s good enough for them so they don’t cast her out also. But now, with Trent, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong. Like I matter to someone, and someone matters to me.
These past few months have been a whirlwind—moving from having no idea how I was going to stay afloat and take care of my grandpa to having a job that allows me to see him every day and have enough time to do my artwork. It just so happens that all that came with a husband that I’m now on a honeymoon with. If you had told me six months ago that I’d be here, I would’ve laughed in disbelief and called you crazy.
Looking over at Trent, I see the soft morning light catch in his hair beneath his backward baseball cap. There is a quiet calm in his presence, and I feel an unexpected warmth bloom in my chest.
What would my life have become if he hadn’t stepped in that day and saved me from stepping into traffic?
