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“You did?” Royce and Bran asked at the same time. The brothers exchanged irritated glances.
“I planned on breaking up with you this weekend,” she told Brannon, her focus solely on him. “In my head it was already done. I had no idea you were going to...” She gestured at his suit pocket where the telltale bulge of a velvet box confirmed his plans.
“I see.” Embarrassment and a hefty dose of hurt outlined Bran’s features before he turned to stalk down the corridor.
“Brannon, hang on.” But before Royce could come up with some sort of suitable argument, Taylor touched his arm.
“Don’t. This is my fault.” She chased after Bran, moving as quickly as she could in her gown and heels. Royce leaned on the doorframe and watched her go. He slowly became aware of two women outside the ladies’ room all but clutching their pearls. A member of the waitstaff had also witnessed the argument, but averted his gaze when Royce met his eyes.
Taylor caught up to Bran as he reached the exit and then they both walked outside. Royce rooted his feet to the floor. Taylor wasn’t his. She never had been. And whatever had happened in this Twilight Zone slice of time never should’ve happened.
He’d been caught up in a moment—answering the call of attraction. One he hadn’t known was there. He should’ve resisted. He knew better. His black-and-white worldview served a bigger purpose than simply ticking boxes on some cosmic checklist. Those rules and guidelines also kept the most important things where they belonged. In this case, kissing Taylor could shake the strong foundation of his very family tree. That had never happened before.
Nor would it, he vowed. Not on his watch.
