Page 69 of Marry Me Tomorrow
Chapter 32
Jenny
Last night felt like a dream come true. Trent was intense yet tender, a contradiction that left me breathless. I had never made love like that before—had never been with someone who made me feel so utterly cherished. With Trent, I felt worshipped, elevated to a realm I didn’t even know existed. He made me feel like a goddess, and he . . . Well, there are no words to accurately describe it.
The morning light filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft, golden hues. I wake up entwined with him, just as I had on that first morning in the cabin on our honeymoon. His arms around me feel like the safest place in the world, as though nothing could ever hurt us, hurt me, when we are together. I lay there, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against my cheek. The rhythm of his heartbeat is a soft melody to my ears.
Eventually, Trent stirs, planting a sweet, lingering kiss on my lips that sends a pleasant warmth cascading through me. “Good morning,” he says, his voice still husky from sleep. Then he gets up, ruffles his hair, and grins at me before heading off to prepare for the day.
I stay in bed, clutching his pillow and inhaling the faint scent of him—woodsy with a hint of his cologne. I don’t want to move, don’t want to let go of this perfect, fleeting moment. The night before has changed something in me, and I’m not ready to face what comes next.
Talking to Holly had helped; her words were a balm to my troubled mind. But I need more. I need to confide in someone who has always been my safe harbor—my grandpa Henry. His wisdom and advice are what I need in order to muster the courage to tell Trent the truth: that I love him, deeply and irrevocably.
The walk to the lake is peaceful, the morning air crisp and tinged with the earthy scent of damp grass. Grandpa Henry sits on his usual bench, his fishing line arcing lazily into the still water. His hat shades his face, but I can see the peaceful expression he wears as he watches the ripples dance across the surface of the water.
“Hi, Grandpa,” I call softly, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug that smells of lake water and his old cologne.
“Well, that’s quite the hug there, sweet pea,” he says, chuckling. “You joining your old grandpa for some fishing today?”
I laugh, settling next to him on the bench. “You’re not old, Grandpa.”
He tilts his hat back and gives me a wry smile. “You’re right. I’m not. Only as old as I feel, and today, I don’t feel a day over fifty.”
I laugh again, shaking my head at his ever-present charm. The soft creak of the bench beneath us and the gentle lapping of the water create a serene backdrop.
“You didn’t bring a pole today?” he asks, gesturing toward my empty hands.
“No,” I admit. “I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”
“What is it?” Grandpa Henry asks, his voice gentle but steady, like the rhythm of the water lapping against the dock.
I hesitate, twisting my hands together in my lap. The words felt heavy on my tongue, weighted by weeks of secrecy. “Well, I haven’t been completely truthful with you about something, and it’s been weighing on me.”
Grandpa Henry turns to face me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the morning sunlight softens his features. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it,” he says, his tone encouraging, patient.
I take a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze tickle the stray hairs that have escaped my ponytail. “Trent and I . . . we didn’t get married for love. The marriage was actually a scheme we concocted so he could keep his marina.”
Henry doesn’t react, doesn’t flinch or furrow his brows. He simply nods, waiting for me to explain.
“You see,” I continue, my voice trembling slightly, “his grandfather Samson had this clause in his marina contract. To fully take over the business, Trent had to be married. His grandparents, Samson and Winnie, wanted to ensure the marina stayed a family-owned, family-run business. Trent’s parents were retiring, and without a wife, Trent was at risk of losing the marina. He confided in me about it and then one day, I overheard him talking to his mom about it and . . . well . . . I pretended I was his fiancée.”
I pause, looking down at my hands. The confession leaves me feeling exposed, like the world has been stripped away.
Henry tilts his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he is holding back a smile. “And then what?”
“So, Trent and I talked it over and came up with a plan.” My words tumble out now. “We agreed to get married and stay that way for a year. Then after the year was up, we’d . . . you know . . . go our separate ways.”
Henry hums thoughtfully. “I see. And what was in it for you?”
I wince. I had hoped to avoid this part but pressed on. “Trent had already been so generous, hiring me and letting me stay rent-free in one of the marina cabins,” I say. “Marrying him was kind of a way to so say thank you but also a way to guarantee I could keep the job and a place to live for at least a year, potentially longer. And the fact that they were both so close to you was perfect.”
Henry leans back on the bench, exhaling deeply as his gaze drifts across the water. “And why are you telling me all this now?” he asks, his voice calm and steady. “Why say anything at all?”
My shoulders sag, and a tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. “Because I’m in love with my husband,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the last word. “I don’t want our marriage to end, Grandpa. I don’t know what to do. I thought . . . I thought you might know. That you could tell me what to do.”
To my astonishment, Grandpa Henry throws his head back and laughs. Not a chuckle or a polite laugh, but a deep, full-bodied roar that echoes across the lake.
“Grandpa!” I protest, gaping at him. “It’s not funny!”
