Page 34 of Marry Me Tomorrow

As we make our way down the path toward the house, the rhythmic sound of our footsteps mingles with the distant whistles of wood ducks. I can’t help but think how much I want every journey with her—by land, by boat, by whatever—to last a lifetime.

Chapter 14

Jenny

“Wait,” I say, quickening my steps to catch up with Trent, “we’re actually taking a boat?” He’s nearly at the tree line, his silhouette outlined against the darkening sky, when I finally fall in beside him.

“Of course,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “We don’t have time to drive—we’d be late, and Mom would hate that.”

“Right. You couldn’t have told me that sooner?” I scold, trying to keep the breathlessness out of my voice.

He stops abruptly and turns to face me. “Why? Is there something wrong with taking the boat? You can swim, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong with taking the boat,” I say, crossing my arms against the cool evening air. “It’s just a little chilly, and I didn’t grab a jacket before we left. And, yes, I can swim, but I don’t plan on falling in the lake.”

Trent smirks and resumes his trek down the path to his house, his steps crunching softly on the gravel. “It’s fine,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ve got a jacket you can borrow.”

I falter slightly, my mind catching on his words. He’s going to give me his jacket? The thought makes my heart flutter in a way I’d rather ignore. After we kissed, the idea of being wrapped up in his scent again has been all I can think about.

By the time we reach the dock a few minutes later, I’m cocooned in one of Trent’s spare jackets. It’s way too big on me, the sleeves hanging over my hands and the hem brushing my thighs, but the warmth—and the subtle hint of his cologne—more than make up for it. It’s almost too much to handle.

Standing at the edge of the dock, I watch as Trent moves with practiced ease, checking the boat to make sure everything is in order. The sun has almost completely set, the horizon painted with the last streaks of burnt orange and dusky purple. Overhead, a waning gibbous moon rises, casting a silver glow across the rippling lake.

“Don’t worry about it getting dark,” Trent says. “I could boat across this lake blindfolded.” He holds out a hand to me. “You ready to come aboard?”

I nod, taking his hand carefully as I step onto the boat. His grip is steady and reassuring, and I feel a flicker of warmth in my chest as I settle into the seat.

Once I’m securely seated, Trent unties the boat and pushes us off the dock. The engine hums to life, a low and steady thrum that vibrates beneath my feet as we glide across the water.

The wind is brisk, and I huddle deeper into Trent’s jacket, pulling the zipper up to my chin. Despite the chill, there’s something calming about the open water at night. The gentle rocking of the boat, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull, and the quiet authority with which Trent steers—all of it works together to soothe my nerves. I could get used to this.

Growing up, I spent some time on the lake. My granddad would occasionally take me fishing with one of his buddies, but I’ve never done this—speeding across the water with the wind whipping through our hair as we navigate from one house to another.

“Boating must be incredible in the summer,” I say, breaking the silence. “I can just imagine it—a warm breeze, water splashing up to cool you off, finding the perfect spot to jump in for a swim or tubing.”

Trent glances at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You ever go tubing?”

“A few times,” I admit. “But not like I’m imagining now.”

“Oh, you’d love it,” he says, his voice tinged with fondness. “We usually take out a pontoon and a speedboat at least once a month in the summer. It’s a full day—tubing, swimming, and grilling out at the marina or my place afterward. It’s always a good time.”

“That sounds amazing,” I say, already picturing the scene.

“We’re almost there,” he says, nodding toward a light glimmering in the distance. “See that? That’s Mom and Dad’s dock. We’re actually a little early, which should make Mom happy.”

He chuckles softly as he slows the boat, maneuvering it skillfully alongside the dock. Once we’re secured, he offers his hand again to help me out of the boat.

If I was impressed by Trent’s house, his parents’ place is on a completely different level. The sprawling mini-Mansion looms in the distance, its windows glowing warmly against the darkening sky. It’s elegant yet somehow inviting—a perfect reflection of Mrs. Hughes herself. She dresses like she just walked out of fashion week in Paris and talks as though she is well-to-do, but she is the sweetest person. I’m so lucky to have her as a mother-in-law soon. And I feel proud knowing I am filling some of the same roles at the marina that she did when she ran the place.

Before we make it to the front door, Mrs. Hughes comes bustling out, her arms outstretched. She wraps us both in a hug that’s as effervescent as she is. “Oh, look at you two!” she exclaims. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come by boat, but I had a feeling. How did you like the ride, dear?”

“I loved it,” I say honestly. “It made me imagine what it’d be like when the weather turns warmer.”

“Oh, you’re going to adore it in the summer!” she gushes. “Trent, you have to take her out as soon as it warms up.”

“I already planned on it, Mom,” Trent says, pulling her into a hug.

She swats him playfully on the arm. “Come on inside. I’ve got a wonderful meal planned for you two—and we have a guest tonight.”

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