How many times had he listened to Bree play that song over the years? More times than Trent could count. This performance had to be the most beautiful of all, and it had taken everything he had within him to keep from letting the tears stinging the back of his eyes make their way through the stone facade he’d built around himself.
What was he doing? How could he stand there and pretend like marrying Monica was a good idea? It was all wrong--all a sham. But walking away would be difficult, too. They had so much time invested in each other… He was in a horrible position, and he wished he’d never let it come to this. He glanced down at her finger, at that ring, the one she’d picked out herself, the one he’d never even used to propose to her. How had it gotten on her finger?
