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Whatever those were. She thrust her bottom lip out and he fought a smile. She’d be fine as soon as she started breathing.
“Do your best. We’ve got this. Watch me.” He bent to meet her eyes but didn’t have to bend much. She was a good eight inches shorter than his six foot four, but today her high-heeled shoes added some height—her lips almost came to his chin.
Her hazel eyes met his, and in the dim light of the closet he could see that she wasn’t calm yet.
“Breathe with me,” he told her in his gentlest voice.
She let out a shaky breath and took in another, making a soft O shape with her mouth as she blew it out. She did it once more but on her exhale a tear streaked down her cheek.
“I don’t want to hurt his feelings, Royce.” She gripped his tux’s lapels.
“I know.” He didn’t know, but felt it best to agree.
“It’s Dad’s fault I said yes to a first date.” She tugged harder on his jacket. “I never should’ve let things go this far. Bran is nice and well suited but...” She shook her head. “I was going to end things this weekend. I only agreed to come tonight to be polite.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
A frown bisected her eyebrows when she repeated, “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Taylor.” When her eyes tracked to his he saw guilt reflected back at him. “You don’t have to say yes to a marriage proposal to be polite.” He hooked a thumb under her chin and tilted her face toward his, needing her to understand. “No matter what your father wanted.”
She nodded, a small one, her hands still clutching his tuxedo coat. He should’ve stepped away but instead he lingered, content to have her full attention. Something he couldn’t remember having before now.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” He’d been on the brink of offering a few more generic platitudes, but whatever else was poised on the tip of his tongue never made it out of his mouth.
Not when Taylor put her lips on his and kissed him for all she was worth.
Hell, maybe for all he was worth.
