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2024-10-29 19:42:56Her fingers were sore from practicing so long, the strings cutting into the tender flesh of her fingertips, but that didn’t prevent Bree from making dinner. Most of the time since the fire, they ordered out, or Trent would make something when he got home, but since she’d done so well practicing earlier, her spirits had lifted. It wasn’t anything fancy, but her mother had taught her to make a mean eggplant parmesan. She’d just popped it in the oven to bake when she heard Trent’s keys in the lock.
Setting the timer, Bree went off to greet him, a smile on her face. “Hey, babe!” she called, anticipation of showing him later how well she&rsqu
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Sitting in one of her favorite restaurants, sipping a glass of wine, Bree waited for Trent to meet her. He’d texted a few minutes ago to let her know he was running just a few minutes behind, thanks to traffic, but she was so glad they’d decided to meet right after work, rather than having him go all the way home and then come back downtown. She was so excited to tell him about the tour, she couldn’t help but smile. After rehearsal, she’d gone home and put on one of her favorite dresses, a red number Trent really liked. Her hair was up in a twist with loose curls framing her face, and she’d put on some diamond earrings Trent had gotten her a few months ago. She knew she looked great, and with everything finally going her way again, she felt great, too.
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“Be honest!” Christy demanded, tossing back her sixth or seventh shot of tequila. They’d only been at the bar for an hour or so, which meant Christy was making good time on hitting her quota, not that she ever hesitated to hit the drinks. “Is living with Trent everything you thought it would be?” “Uh… yeah,” Bree replied, her hands nestled around her first bottle of beer. It was about gone, but she wasn’t anywhere near as intoxicated as Christy was. Hank also was taking his time, though he’d finished at least two beers and was on his third. “I love living with Trent.”
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Two weeks later…. Bree sat on the beach, a drink one hand, Trent’s fingers interlaced with her other where it lay in the sand. The ocean waves rolled in, wetting the sand near their toes, the sun baking down on their tan skin as it dried from their first dip in the ocean. There would be plenty more.&nbs
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The sound of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom. No one said a word for what seemed like the longest few seconds Bree could ever remember. Then, the people around her came back to life, and she found air in her lungs again. “Are you okay?” Trent asked. He was always asking her that, checking on her, making sure she was all right. Bree nodded. She was all right. She was going to continue to be all right, too. It seemed like a nightmare that had lasted almost two years was finally over.&nb
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“This is a horrible idea. The worst one ever. In the entire history of the world, I cannot imagine one idea worse than this one.” Celia sat across from Trent in his office, her arms folded, her legs crossed, her face puckered.At the moment, he couldn’t even allow himself to snicker at her exaggeration. While he agreed that what he was about to do was a terrible idea, he could think of lots of other ideas that were worse, many of them involving wars that had killed thousands or millions of people. Or spread disease. Or polluted the environment. But she was right--of all of the decisions he’d been directly involved in, this one was pretty awful.
