Page 60 of Marry Me Tomorrow

He smiles humorlessly. “No, Jenny,” he says, his voice tight with emotion. “You shouldn’t have even been in that room. You’re my wife. You should’ve been in my room. Our room. With me.”

“But our agreement—”

“To hell with the agreement.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “That stupid agreement we made—it’s what got you hurt in the first place.”

“Trent,” I say gently, “you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “If that tree had landed at a different angle, if that dresser hadn’t been there, or if the wall hadn’t broken the tree’s fall . . .” He looks at the ground, his eyes misting with tears. “You could’ve been killed, Jenny.”

“But I wasn’t,” I counter, reaching out to place my hand on his leg. “It wasn’t the agreement that almost killed me—it was a tornado. Unless you’ve somehow gained the ability to control the weather, I’m not blaming you.”

His lips twitch into a reluctant smile, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “It scared me,” he says quietly. “I know you’re my wife because of our agreement, but I care for you. More than I thought I could.”

“I was scared too,” I reply, my voice soft. “But we’re okay now. We’ll rebuild our home, clean up the marina, and everything will go back to normal.”

He nods, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“It is,” I say, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “I’m good at plans. Remember? I’m the one who came up with our whole engagement.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ll never forget that.”

For the first time in days, the weight between us eases, and I finally allow myself to relax. Trent’s care and concern remind me that this marriage—this partnership—is turning into something real.

And that’s something I may be ready for.

Chapter 27

Trent

Now, as we pull up to the remains of our home, Jenny’s voice catches in her throat. Her eyes fix on the shattered shell of what used to be our sanctuary, and for a moment, she says nothing.

“It looks a lot worse than it seems,” I offer gently, trying to lessen the shock. “I met with Niall and the structural engineer to assess the damage this morning. They said it’ll need significant repairs, but it’s not a lost cause.”

Jenny’s gaze stays locked on the wreckage; her lips press tightly together as tears brim in her eyes. “Our beautiful home . . . It’s destroyed.” Her voice trembles, barely a whisper.

“But you weren’t,” I reply, turning toward her. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dare. “That’s all that matters to me.”

After a beat, I lean back, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “Actually,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “I’d love to have your insight on how best to redo the upstairs.”

Her eyes widen slightly, the hint of a smile breaking through her sadness. “You do? But, Trent, I’ll only be here for less than a year.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice firm but kind. “It’s our home.”

The weight of those words seems to settle between us, tangible and real.

Back in the truck, we make our way over to the marina lodge. After we park, I hop out and circle around to Jenny’s side, opening her door before she can protest.

“Trent,” she says as I scoop her into my arms, “you don’t have to carry me.”

“I insist,” I reply with a grin. “Plus, it’s only right for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold.”

Jenny folds her arms with a mock huff. “That’s only on the wedding day.”

“Well,” I counter, feigning seriousness, “I think it should apply anytime said husband and wife get a new place to live.”

Her skeptical look gives way to curiosity as I carry her into the lodge. “We’re living here?” she asks, glancing around the space.

“Yes and no,” I reply, heading toward the back of the building. “There’s one place I haven’t shown you yet.” I stop in front of a plain wooden door in the corner of the shop. “Would you mind turning the knob?”

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