Leaving Monica to fend for herself amongst the crowd of people who were beginning to understand that something wasn’t right didn’t seem like the best idea to Trent, but he found himself headed for the door ten or fifteen minutes after his friends--or should he say former friends?--ducked out.
He had no idea where they’d gone, but he figured he’d find them. When he finally caught up to Hank, he was alone. “Hey, where’s Bree?” he asked his best man, who was carrying his shoes, and a half-empty bottle of whisky.
“Hell if I know,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe she went for a swim.”
“Don’t joke about that. Is she okay?”
“Hell no, she isn’t okay. She’s pissed as hell at you. What are you doing, man? How can you marry Monica after the way she’s treated you when you know Bree loves you?”
