17. Trent
Chapter 17
Trent
“Hey, hey, lover boy,” Greg says, bounding into my room with exaggerated cheer and making a ruckus with a kazoo that screeches its way into my still-drowsy consciousness. “Wakey-wakey, it’s your wedding day!” He jumps on my bed, bouncing up and down.
“Dude,” I groan, propping myself up and rubbing my eyes. “It’s too early for all that noise.”
“Sorry, mate,” Niall says, leaning against the doorframe with two coffee mugs in his hands. “I tried to get him to change his mind, but he insisted the kazoo would add to the celebration.”
“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one of those cups is for me,” I mutter, my voice still rough from sleep.
Niall chuckles softly and steps forward, handing me a mug. I take it gratefully. The hot ceramic warms my palms.
“Thanks,” I say, settling back against the headboard with the cup cradled in my hands. “Now this I can handle.”
“Aww, come on, man,” Greg says with a hopeful grin, “you can’t be grumpy today. It’s your wedding day.”
“You’re still going through with it?” Niall asks.
“I’m not grumpy, and I’m not changing my mind. I’m getting married today,” I mutter with a sigh, blowing across the surface of my coffee before taking a sip. The bitterness is familiar and comforting. “I just didn’t expect to be awoken to your kazoo. Kind of catches you off guard.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Greg says, “get up sleepyhead and come eat your breakfast before it gets cold. You’ll need your energy up today.” With that, Greg leaves the room with a dramatic flourish, and I set the coffee on the nightstand, leaning back against the headboard once more.
“You alright, mate?” Niall asks, watching me with a quiet concern.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I just can’t believe I’m getting married today.”
“Well, believe it, because it’s happening. But you still have time to back out. No one would fault you for it,” Niall says firmly, giving me a reassuring nod.
“Like I told Greg, I’m not changing my mind. And I’m not backing out. I’m sure about this.”
“Alright then, if you’re sure.” Niall says. “We’ll be downstairs if you need us.” Then he leaves my room.
I’m getting married today.
Me.
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.
We exchange rings, the cool metal sliding over my finger a tangible symbol of everything we’re agreeing to. Then, we reach the final, most pivotal part of the ceremony.
Turning to Jenny, I take both of her hands in mine. They’re warm, steady—a counterbalance to the pounding of my own heart. I know the words I’m about to say will change everything forever, cementing what began as an idea into something real.
“Do you, Trenton Hughes, take Jenny Monroe to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and in sorrow, until death do you part?”
The officiant’s gaze shifts to me, but my eyes never leave Jenny. Her face is a canvas of light and quiet strength, and in that moment, the answer comes as naturally as breathing.
“I do,” I say, my voice firm yet softened by the weight of emotion behind the words.
The officiant nods and turns to Jenny, repeating the same question.
Her focus shifts briefly to him, her expression neutral, unreadable, as he outlines the promises she’s about to make. I watch her closely, searching for even the smallest flicker of doubt. But when she turns back to me, her hand tightens around mine once more—a silent declaration of her resolve.
“I do,” she says, her voice clear and unwavering, the words carrying an irrefutable strength.
The officiant smiles, his gaze sweeping across the gathered guests. “Then by the power vested in me by the state of Tennessee, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Cheers erupt around us, a wave of sound that feels distant, almost muted, as I’m pulled deeper into the moment. I barely catch the officiant’s next words. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Oh, this—this I’m going to enjoy.
Jenny’s eyes meet mine, bright and filled with laughter and joy. Her eyes briefly fall to my lips then back to my eyes. My chest tightens, a surge of something I can’t name sweeping through me. I release her hands, one moving to brush a stray strand of hair from her face while the other lifts her chin gently.
As our lips meet, I’m tentative at first, mindful of the crowd around us, of the weight of expectations. But before I can pull back, Jenny leans into me, her presence as electric as a lightning strike.
My hands shift instinctively, one cradling the back of her head, the other drawing her closer against me. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me in, her kiss deepening with a soft, breathy sigh that sets my senses on fire.
I’m drowning in her—her scent, light and floral, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way she moves with a confidence that leaves me completely undone. My heart races as I lose myself in the moment, the rest of the world falling away. I tip her back and deepen the kiss, wanting this moment to last forever.
Then, a subtle clearing of a throat brings reality crashing back in.
I reluctantly ease Jenny back upright, my hands lingering on her waist as I step away just enough to appease our audience. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper—something that mirrors the chaos swirling within me.
To anyone who didn’t know the truth, we must look like we’ve been deeply in love for years. To everyone here, there’s no hint of the arrangement that brought us together.
But I realize, as I watch her, that the lines between what’s real and what’s not are blurring.
I think—I might actually be falling in love with her.
“Everyone, for the first time,” the DJ announces, “please help me welcome Mr. and Mrs. Hughes!”
We step into the barn-turned-reception hall. The space is transformed, beautifully decorated. Strings of twinkling lights drape across the wooden beams above, casting a soft, warm glow that makes the room feel magical no matter where you look. Each table is adorned with pink and yellow centerpieces, crafted around old-fashioned lanterns that flicker gently. The lights reflect off the polished wood floor, illuminating the room with a cozy, romantic ambiance. In the center, a dance floor gleams under the glow, inviting couples to sway under the stars created by the string lights.
We make our way through the crowd, the sound of applause and cheers echoing around us. The scent of fresh flowers and sweet vanilla from the candles in the lanterns hangs in the air. I help Jenny settle into her seat at the head table, my hand resting on hers for a moment longer than necessary.
“Everything looks so beautiful,” Jenny says, glancing around in awe. Her eyes shine.
I turn to take it all in too—the lights, the decorations, the joy on everyone’s faces. But nothing is as captivating as the woman standing next to me. “You look beautiful,” I reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the back of her hand.
She laughs softly and swats my arm playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, you. You’ve said that at least a dozen times now.”
“I can’t help it,” I say, grinning. “Your beauty has cast a spell on me.”
She laughs again, the sound like music in my ears, as the caterers arrive, placing our plates of food before us.
My grandfather Samson makes his way toward us, his expression one of warmth and pride. He reaches out, shaking my hand firmly. “Jenny, you’re a sweetheart, and we welcome you into the family.” His gaze shifts to me. “Trent, my boy, I never thought I’d live to see this day. Just don’t muck it up, and make sure it lasts.”
I can only nod, his words sinking in.
“Thank you, Samson,” Jenny says softly. “It was a beautiful ceremony, and I’m so happy to be welcomed so graciously into your family.”
With that, Samson heads back to his seat beside my mom and dad. Mom is smiling, tears glistening in her eyes. She’s been crying nonstop since the rehearsal last night, and I’m surprised she hasn’t run out of tears by now.
Since the wedding party was entirely made up of couples, we decided to nix the traditional seating arrangement of bridesmaids on one side and groomsmen on the other. Instead, Gwen and Niall sit to Jenny’s right, and Greg and Holly to my left.
“Gwen,” Jenny says, “you did such a beautiful job. Everything about the wedding has been gorgeous.”
“It was a group effort, for sure,” Gwen replies, picking up her drink. “Trent, your mom had some wonderful ideas. Everything came together beautifully.”
“Cheers to that,” Niall adds, raising his glass.
“How about a toast?” Greg’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of conversation. The DJ hands him a microphone, and everyone falls silent, turning their attention to him.
“To the happy couple,” Greg begins, his voice full of warmth and humor. “I never thought I’d see the day when some lucky girl would finally capture Trent’s heart. But, Jenny, I couldn’t be happier that it’s you. You’ve made Trent so happy, and I hope nothing but the best for the two of you.”
A round of applause follows, and Greg raises his glass high, his grin wide.
Holly takes the microphone next, a soft smile on her face as she speaks. “I remember the day I first met you, Jenny. And from that first moment, I could tell you were smitten with our Trent. He’s got such a big heart, always looking out for everyone else. I’m so thankful that now he has you to look out for him. We wish you both a lifetime of happiness and love.”
Everyone cheers again, glasses clinking together in celebration. Jenny and I exchange a quiet look, both of us aware of the truth beneath the surface. We’re fooling everyone—our friends, our family—but we’ve come this far, and there’s not much we can do now except move forward with the plan.
But the way I’ve been feeling lately—there’s a part of me that wonders if maybe, just maybe, something more could come from all this. I already feel myself falling more in love with Jenny with each passing day.
In this moment, as we stand together at the head table, I can’t help but notice how natural it feels to hold her hand. How every small touch, every glance feels weighted with something real—something I didn’t anticipate. I try to brush it off as the nerves of the day, but deep down, I know it’s more than that.
Jenny leans into me, her smile tender, and she squeezes my hand gently. I feel her warmth steadying me in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“This,” she whispers, her eyes shining with something I can’t quite place, “is everything I could have dreamed of for today.”
I meet her gaze, my heart thudding a little harder. “And it’s everything I didn’t know I was missing.”
We hold that moment, surrounded by our friends and family, the quiet whispers of happiness weaving through the space. The future may be uncertain, but in this moment, it feels right.
Who knows what will happen in a year? But for now, it’s enough to sit here, hand in hand, and imagine the possibilities.
After the festivities finally wind down and enough time has passed for us to leave, we ride back to my house—our house now. The truck hums beneath us, the night outside still and quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jenny is quiet beside me, her gaze fixed out the window and her hands resting loosely on her lap.
When we pull into the driveway, the headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the familiar porch. I hop out, circle the truck, and help Jenny down. She hesitates as I lift her into my arms.
“Trent, what are you doing? I can walk,” she protests, though there’s a soft inflection of amusement in her tone.
“It’s tradition for a husband to carry his wife across the threshold,” I reply matter-of-factly, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Fine,” she concedes with an exaggerated sigh. “But you can put me down right after that.”
I nod solemnly, cradling her securely as I carry her toward the door. The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the cool night air, light and floral, mingling with the earthy aroma of the outdoors. Once inside, I step over the threshold and set her down gently.
“Thank you,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I need to get out of the dress.”
I watch her ascend the stairs, each step revealing the subtle sway of her dress, her figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the hall light. At the top, she turns down the hallway toward her room. I stand at the foot of the stairs, hand running absently through my hair. I’m not supposed to follow her up, right? That’s not what we agreed on.
The events of the day replay in my mind like a reel of film. I’m a married man now. The marina will be safe. It should feel like a relief, but the weight of it all presses against my chest in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
“Umm, Trent,” Jenny’s voice floats down from upstairs, tinged with an edge of uncertainty that sets my heart racing.
“Yes?” I call back, already bounding up the stairs two at a time. By the time I pause outside her door, I’m slightly breathless. Her door is ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. “Everything okay?”
“You might as well come in,” she replies, the nervous edge now tempered with a hint of exasperation. “I’m not going to be able to get out of this dress without some help. As much as I love it, I definitely don’t want to sleep in it.”
I swallow hard, my hand hesitating on the doorframe before I slowly push the door open.
Inside, Jenny stands by the bed, the light catching on the intricate fabric of her dress. She turns toward me, her expression both sheepish and determined. “I knew I shouldn’t have let your mom talk me into all these buttons. It’s impossible to undo by myself.” She lets out a huff of frustration.
“She probably didn’t think you’d be undressing alone,” I say before immediately regretting it. My face flushes as the words hang in the air.
Jenny arches a brow, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “So . . . do you think you can help me?”
I nod, words failing me as she turns her back to me.
When I remain frozen, she asks, “Are you okay back there?”
I clear my throat, trying to steady my hands. “Yep. Just figuring out where to begin.”
“I’d suggest starting at the top,” she says.
“Right.” Taking a steadying breath, I reach for the first button at the nape of her neck. Her skin is impossibly soft beneath my fingers, a warmth that sends an unexpected shiver through me. As I work my way down the line of buttons, the fabric parts to reveal more of her back, smooth and pale under the light.
Jenny shifts slightly, a subtle shiver running through her as her dress opens further. The air between us feels charged, every quiet rustle of the fabric amplified in the silence.
By the time I reach the final button at the small of her back, I’m acutely aware of how close we are. She steps forward, clutching the dress to her chest, and turns to face me, her cheeks faintly flushed.
“I think I can manage the rest,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, feeling heated. I want to stay with her, but I’m not sure if she feels the same way. And I don’t want to put her in that position. I look at the floor, breaking our eye contact. “Sleep well, Jenny,” I say, stepping out her door.
Once inside my room, I close the door and lean back against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The feel of her skin, the intimacy of the moment—it’s overwhelming in a way that I can’t quite explain.
“It’s just the emotions from the day,” I tell myself, trying to rationalize the storm swirling in my chest. “There’s no room for emotions in a marriage of convenience.”
Jenny agreed to this arrangement on the condition that physical affection would only happen when absolutely necessary. The last thing I want is to burden her with my own tangled feelings. But then I think of our wedding kiss, the warmth of her lips against mine, and my heart rate spikes again.
I can’t help it. I run down the hall, stopping at her closed door. My hand hovers over the knob, a battle raging within me. She didn’t agree to anything beyond kissing or necessary affection. She probably doesn’t feel the same things I’m feeling now.
I drop my hand back to my side, turn, and walk back into my room.
A cold shower and a good night’s sleep will do me some good.