19
Trent
“Unfortunately, sir, we don’t have anyone to come out to you this weekend as we’re short-staffed,” the man on the phone says, his tone far too casual for the weight of what he’s telling me. “The earliest I can get someone out to you at Aurora Pines Resort would be Monday morning.”
With the phone still pressed to my ear, I glance over at Aubrey. She’s staring at me with wide eyes, hope etched all over her face—hope I know I’m about to crush.
I try to keep my voice steady. “Okay… and what time will that be?”
“We can get someone out to you by ten Monday morning.”
A heavy sigh escapes before I can stop it. I nod even though he can’t see me. “Alright. We’ll be here. Thanks for your help,” I mutter, then hang up and shift to face Aubrey.
Her eyes are already on me.
“What did he say?” she asks quickly. “What time are they coming?”
I hesitate for half a second before I answer. “Bree… they can’t get out here until Monday.”
Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens like she’s about to say something, but no words come out.
So I keep talking. “Here’s what we’ll do—we’ll get a room each at the hotel. Then Monday morning, we’ll get the truck sorted and head back.”
“We can’t stay here, Trent,” she says, her voice rising with panic.
“We don’t have a choice, baby,” I say, the word baby slipping out before I can stop it.
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to slice through the tension in the truck.
She shakes her head, hands flying up in frustration. “This was meant to be a simple trip. In my car. To deliver a wedding cake. You weren’t supposed to be here. If you hadn’t come, if I hadn’t had to drive your stupid truck, I’d be on the road right now, driving home.”
She breathes hard, chest rising and falling as her words settle in the space between us.
“But no,” she continues, a bitter laugh slipping from her lips. “Our mothers had to meddle. And you had to say yes. And now here I am—stuck in goddamn Pinecrest, six hours from home. With you.”
“I get you’re frustrated, Bree,” I say, keeping my tone steady even though the sting of her words lands hard. “I don’t exactly want to be stuck here either. And it’s not like you’ve been a joy for the last six hours. But we don’t have a choice.”
Tears well in her eyes before she leans forward, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. The sight of her like that, tired and defeated, hits me hard.
The urge to reach out, to do something, is strong. But I know better. The last thing she wants from me right now is comfort.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
She lets out a shaky breath, then slowly lifts her head. Her hand brushing quickly across her face as she wipes away the tears. Shoulders squared, voice flat, she nods once.
“It’s fine,” she says. “Let’s just go inside and book some rooms.”
Without waiting for me, Aubrey jumps out of the truck and practically races to the hotel entrance. I follow, keeping a steady pace, but she’s so fast I have to push myself just to keep up.
By the time I reach the lobby, she’s already at the front desk, and as I get closer, I hear the edge of panic creeping back into her voice.
“You don’t understand,” she says tightly. “I don’t want one room, I want two.”
The receptionist, a woman who looks like she’s already dealt with way too many people today, offers her a strained smile. “Ma’am, like I’ve said—we don’t have two rooms. The hotel is completely booked with wedding guests. The only room I have available is a superior double with a view of the lake.”
Aubrey’s shoulders stiffen, and I can practically feel the heat rolling off her. Her hands press down on the counter like she’s trying to keep herself grounded.
I step up beside her, out of breath and already dreading what comes next.
“Guess we’re sharing a room,” I say, glancing between the receptionist and Aubrey.
Aubrey slowly turns her head toward me, and the look she gives could curdle milk.
“No,” she says flatly. “Absolutely not.”
“Ma’am,” the receptionist cuts in, her voice polite but tired, “I really am sorry, but this is the only room we have. If anything opens up, I’ll be happy to let you know.”
Aubrey doesn’t say anything for a moment. Her jaw tightens, hands fisting at her sides, and I can see her weighing every possible way out of this—including sleeping in the damn truck.
Finally, she exhales through her nose and looks at the woman behind the desk. “Fine. We’ll take it.”
The receptionist quickly nods and starts typing something into the computer. I glance at Aubrey again, but she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are locked on the countertop like it might save her from snapping.
Aubrey doesn’t say a word the entire elevator ride up to the room—at least not until we step inside and see the setup: one double bed and a couch.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What kind of cheesy romance novel bullshit is this?”
“I’ll take the couch,” I say quickly. “You can have the bed.”
She crosses her arms, glaring. “And how exactly are you planning to sleep on that thing with your busted leg?”
“We’ll figure it out, Bree.”
“Will we? Because right now this feels like some personal version of hell. Like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. And honestly? I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
Her words pack a punch. I know I screwed things up—hijacked her road trip for my own selfish reasons—but damn. I’m not that bad.
“Jesus, Bree,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I get it. You don’t want to be here—you’ve made that crystal fucking clear already.”
There’s a beat of silence. Her eyes soften, like she didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh. Maybe she didn’t.
Still, I’m the same person I’ve always been. Still Trent. And she’s looking at me like I turned into some kind of villain overnight.
“Trent, I…”
“Forget it.” I push past the lump in my throat. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Where are you even going to go?”
“The bar. Somewhere I’m not a walking reminder of how shitty everything is.”
I head for the door. Each step feeling heavier than the last, not from pain, just from the weight of knowing I’ve fucked things up—again. I don’t bother with a dramatic exit; I just need to get out, even if it’s only too numb the ache I can’t shake.