A horrible ache started in the pit of her stomach and rapidly spiraled through her inner organs out through her extremities until Bree’s entire body seemed to be on fire from the inside out. “Wait--what?” Maybe she hadn’t heard Trent correctly. Maybe this was all a joke. Hank was known for being a prankster. “Excuse me?”
The fact that Trent’s blue eyes were focused on his shoes let her know she had heard him correctly, though. This wasn’t an awful dream. This was reality. He was marrying Monica Edge. “It’s me, Bree. I’m the groom.”
“You’re marrying Monica?” The words fell out of her mouth like rocks plopping into a lake and sinking directly to the bottom, the weight of them just as heavy and un-buoyant.
“I am. She’s… my fiancée.”
