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?”
Hank’s words cut right through him, and if he’d been in a better mood, he might’ve actually listened to him. Instead, he said, “Are you actually telling me what you think I should do about my love life, Hank? With your track record?”
“I know, man. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” He took a swig out of the bottle, and the brown liquid rolled down the corner of his mouth. He wiped his chin on the back of his hand. “I’m a shitty friend if the world ever knew one.”
“In this case, I’m going to have to agree with you. I wish you would’ve said something, Hank. If you would’ve told me you still had feelings for her, maybe it would’ve changed things.”
“Changed things how? You would’ve broken up with her? For me?”
“Maybe. Especially if you would’ve told me before I started dating her. I had no idea the two of you had slept together before Monica and I started going out.”
“I know. I know. I should’ve told you. But… I screwed the whole thing up. Listen, though. You can’t be a dumbass like me. You need to go talk to Bree. She’s the one for you. She always has been.”
Trent ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Hank. Things never work out between the two of us. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
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