Meant to Marry Me

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We'll begin the ceremony in approximately five minutes, so now would be a good time to begin making your way to your assigned tables." The MC was a robust man with gray hair, dressed in an expensive suit, with the sort of voice one would expect to hear in a movie trailer.

"I guess that means we should take our seats," Celia said, waving goodbye to her friend.

"I guess so." Trent glanced around the room, seeing that Monica was still on the other side. He hoped it would stay that way, but as he and Celia began to look for their seats, he realized Monica was getting closer and closer to them. When he finally saw his name on a table in the middle of the room, near the stage, he gasped in horror when he realized that Monica and her date were also seated there. Cursing under his breath, Trent put on a brave face and pulled out Celia's chair for her. Monica would be seated directly across from him, once she realized that was her table, too.

"Oh. Great," Monica said, stopping behind the chair situated in front of her name plate. "We're at the same table."

"What's that, darling?" The man she was with, a man who appeared old enough to be her father, leaned in closely so that he could hear her. He was dressed in an expensive Armani suit and looked quite distinguished, though Trent didn't recognize him.

"Nothing, George. Here we are," Monica said, pulling out her own chair. George realized his faux pas and gestured for her to let him, but by then Monica had already slunk into the seat, smoothing her red, sparkly evening gown as she sat. George pushed her chair in and then took the seat next to her, four other people filling in the rest of the table. Trent knew none of them but imagined at least half the people at that table were receiving awards similar to the one he was getting that evening.

The other couples who were sitting with them seemed to know one another well enough to make small talk while they waited for everyone else to be seated. Dinner was served, but Trent had no appetite for the expensive seafood set before him. Monica didn't seem to either. She picked at her linguini with clam sauce and the other dishes they were brought, only taking a few small bites. At least she didn't attempt to talk to him. As far as the others at the table knew, they were strangers. He wanted to keep it that way.

It wasn't until the awards ceremony was underway that Trent realized the man Monica was with was a photographer, George Ralsten. He had seen his work in several magazines and newspapers, including the spread about this event in the local newspaper a few days before. He had to assume Monica had met him at the modeling agency. While they didn't seem to be a couple, George was paying quite a bit of attention to Monica, and it was clear he was enamored with the beautiful, younger woman.

It wouldn't surprise Trent at all if Monica was only there because George had money. She was a leach, after all, and would take advantage of any man who looked at her sideways if it meant it would better her career or put more pretty dresses in her closet.

Trent knew that wasn't all true. Monica had fallen in love with him before he was rich. Just because she had cheated on him with his best friend, it wasn't fair to assume she was also a gold digger. But he did know how much her career meant to her and assumed she'd do whatever she could to make a name for herself in the modeling world. If that meant sleeping with a famous photographer, then he wouldn't put it past her.

George received his award before Trent. The MC introduced last year's winner of Nashville's Photographer of the Year, and a small woman with bright red hair came out and spoke a few words about George before the older man went up on stage to receive his award. He spoke briefly, thanking everyone for the honor, recognized his date, "The beautiful and talented Monica Edge," and then went backstage to become the subject of a few photographs, leaving Monica by herself. When the MC announced they'd take a small intermission before presenting the rest of the awards, Trent felt his heart sink in his chest. With George away, it would leave Monica with nothing better to do than start a conversation with him. He prayed she'd continue to pretend they didn't know each other, but it didn't take long at all before she was looking right at him.

"I'm surprised your fiancée isn't here," she said, looking from Trent to Celia and then back again. "Did the two of you have a falling out?"

Her tone was a forced form of pleasant that no one other than Trent would've been able to pick up on. To everyone else, it would've seemed like a casual, though prying, question. "No, we didn't break up," Trent replied, trying to infuse his voice with cheer, though he knew it also sounded as fake as Monica's eyelashes. "She had a show tonight."

"Oh. That's odd." Monica shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

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"What's that?" Trent asked, though he regretted it the second it was out of his mouth. He knew better. He should've just let the comment go.

"It's nothing. I just... well, you seem to appreciate a woman who puts you before her career, so I'm shocked you're willing to put up with that."

Trent wasn't sure what to say. The audacity Monica was showing in bringing up their personal history in front of a table full of people, most of which were strangers to both of them, was unbelievable. The fact that what she was saying wasn't true at all made a ball of rage well up inside of him. He'd been willing to move halfway across the country, or even to France, if that's what it took for her to get her modeling career off the ground. If she wanted to air dirty laundry, he had plenty of embarrassing accusations he could make against her as well. The only difference was, his would be true.

Before Trent could work out the best way to respond, Celia asked, "Wait a minute--do the two of you know each other?"

"I guess you could say that," Monica said, her eyes narrowed. "I thought we knew each other."

"Oh, I see," Celia said, her head nodding. "This is that poor girl you mentioned to me earlier," she said, leaning in close to Trent, as if she were attempting to whisper, even though she wasn't. "The one who made so many unfortunate decisions and ended up ruining her life. What a pity. She's so pretty."

Monica's mouth dropped open, her face immediately turning red, not so much from embarrassment as from rage, Trent supposed. It was enough to make him forget he was angry at her for the comments she'd made as he did his best to hide his laughter.

"What?" Monica spat. "Well, I never!"

"It's all right. I don't blame you for being upset. Trent is engaged to a beautiful, successful musician, and you're obviously still struggling to get your life in order. It's understandable that you would lash out irrationally at him. At least your date for tonight is successful. Perhaps some of his winning ways will rub off on you, and you'll get your life sorted out."

Celia was on a roll, and it was all Trent could do to keep from bursting out in laughter. The other people at the table sat slack jawed, their expressions shouting that they wished they weren't witnessing the exchange, but there was no place for any of them to go save the restroom, and since the ceremony was about to start again and none of them had received their awards yet, they couldn't run off.

Thankfully, Monica could. "I don't know who your new little tart is, Trent, but she's a bitch!" Monica said, pushing back from the table. She grabbed her handbag and stormed off in the direction of the lobby where the restrooms were located, just as the MC was coming back to the microphone to get the rest of the show underway.

"That was awkward," Celia whispered, a devilish grin on her face.

Trent shook his head slowly. "That was brilliant," he said, so glad he'd brought Celia with him. If it had been Bree, Monica likely would've hurt her feelings and made her cry. Bree was so fragile right now, after all she'd been through, he wasn't sure she could stand up for herself at the moment. But Celia had put Monica in her place in a way few people could do. Once again, he was so proud of Celia, he couldn't have even put it into words.