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Three
So, Saturday evening could’ve gone more smoothly.
The only explanation Taylor had come up with for the moment of insanity in the closet wasn’t a pretty one. She’d kissed Royce because she wanted to. Simple as that. One opportunity and a little forced proximity was all it’d taken for her to fulfill the dormant fantasy. The kiss hadn’t been thought out or rational. But since when was the heart rational?
Brannon Knox had nearly proposed to her. He’d taken first place for irrational!
As a result of her unplanned make-out sesh with Royce, the breakup with Brannon happened in the worst possible way. The kiss had put the final nail in that coffin. Actions speaking louder than words and all that. From the time her father declared Royce a no-go zone, Royce had taken up a certain amount of space in her world. He grew to be somehow bigger than life. Celebrity-like. Too far away to ever truly grasp. Which had amped up the attraction tenfold.
Royce had been inaccessible until that stray moment in private at the gala. She’d never been in his circle, not really, because he was older than her. Yes, they saw each other at work often and yes, they’d had meetings—even private meetings—but her professional side was every bit as rigid as Royce’s. She’d never imagined a scenario that would lead to her kissing him in a coat closet. Kissing him ever.
Ugh. Slumping at her desk, she dropped her head into her hand. She wanted to die.
“Hiya, toots.” Gia Knox, the younger sister of the two brothers who had been on Taylor’s mind all morning, entered the corner office and shut the door. Taylor had gone to school with Gia—well, until college parted their paths. Taylor hadn’t had the brains to land MIT, but few did. Bran hadn’t been accepted. Royce hadn’t wanted to go there, not that his father had minded. Jack had a streak of whimsy mixed in with his business acumen, like grenadine in Sprite, and had encouraged each of his children to follow their hearts.
“Good morning.” Taylor kept her reply measured, not sure how her best friend felt about what had occurred Saturday. Taylor spent Sunday with her phone off, cleaning her apartment. As if that would purge any stray guilt.
“They’re both duds if you ask me,” the only Knox daughter said with a wink. Her long dark hair spilled over the shoulders of a scarlet dress that kept her curves contained and professional. She was a Knox genius in Jennifer Lopez’s body.
She was Taylor’s closest friend and the one person she’d considered running to after stepping in it Saturday night. The last place she’d wanted to be was that ballroom in a sea of people, especially with Brannon. He’d been so angry... Justifiably.
That night when she’d followed him outside to explain, he’d spun on her, his voice sharp and unyielding.
“Royce, Taylor? Really?”
“Brannon, it wasn’t—” She’d cut herself short of muttering a clichéd retort, though it was true. It really wasn’t what it looked like. What it looked like was that she and Royce were sneaking off to make out in the closet. In reality Taylor’s emotions had become tangled up in a rogue wave of attraction. “I never meant to hurt you.”
From there the conversation had stalled, Bran’s face dawning with the understanding that she’d seen the ring and fled. He hadn’t stuck around to hear her reasoning for kissing Royce, which was probably for the best. What else was there to say?
“Do you hate me?” Taylor turned from her laptop to face Gia, who gave a blithe blink and dragged the guest chair closer to Taylor’s desk. She sat, leveling Taylor with chocolate-brown eyes a touch darker than Royce’s.
“I adore you.” Gia offered a pitiable head shake. “I had no idea Brannon was going to propose until he huffed back into the party snarling about how he’d made a mistake.”
The blood rushed from Taylor’s face. What had he told Gia? What had he told everyone?
Gia’s hand covered hers. “I stepped out of the ballroom and into a private room with him, so don’t worry about the gossip mill. Royce saw us and joined, and Bran gruffly admitted he’d made a mistake planning to propose at such a big affair. I had no idea he’d planned on asking you to marry him, Taylor. I thought you two were completely caj. Which I told him, by the way. Royce said he went to find you for the Big Ask but instead discovered you locked in the coat closet hyperventilating. Was it one-thing-led-to-another or is there more?”
The lump of dread in Taylor’s throat remained, but she told her friend the truth. “I have no idea.”
She’d been wondering that herself. Was the kiss the start of something? And if so, how could she navigate those choppy waters? Gia knew the truth and didn’t hate her. Royce had greeted her this morning with a gruff “good morning” but he hadn’t seemed upset. Was two out of three Knoxes not hating her enough?
“Are you okay?” Gia rubbed Taylor’s knee.
Great question.
“I’m okay.” Basically. “Brannon must hate me.”
“His pride is hurt. But you don’t have to guilt-accept a proposal.”
Almost verbatim what Royce had told her. You don’t have to say yes to be polite.
“Even if you did guilt-accept a few dates,” Gia added.
Taylor watched her friend carefully. Gia had picked up on that on her own. When Taylor had started dating Bran, she felt like she’d crossed an unspoken boundary. How could she ask Gia’s opinion or voice concerns over her best friend’s flesh and blood? It would have been totally unfair.
“You don’t miss a thing,” Taylor told her.
“I was shocked when you walked into the gala together. I thought for sure he’d have a date and you’d come dance with me.” She pressed her manicured fingernails into her décolletage and fluttered her lashes. “Honestly, I thought you two would’ve broken it off by now. I could see the distance. Or, well, not the distance so much as...the lack of spark.”
