He’d definitely put his foot in it. That much he knew. Because he currently had a sobbing and bereaved girl clinging to him as if he was her lone port in a storm. A storm that he had to remind himself was of his own making, because he’d thought that talking to her while his lips were against her skin was a good idea. The words had formed so nicely against her smooth, creamy flesh. He’d like the way his breath skimmed her skin just before his mouth touched it. He liked complimenting her; he liked every little nuance that Dahlia Bishop possessed. Which was probably why he was so madly in love with her, come to think of it.  You couldn’t like everything without end up loving most of it. Though he wasn’t so sure about how to assure her of that. She didn’t seem to like his talking, but for some reason he couldn’t help but babble on while he ran his hand over her long (though messy now) hair.  And tried to assure her that whatever it was that was between them needn’t be damaged by his words. He’d much rather have some of her for a moment, than none of her for a lifetime, no matter how pathetic and weak that was. Brice thought that love was supposed to build you up. But currently all it was doing was making Dahlia cry and him regret that he’d told her.

“you silly. It is there. I do love you. I love you very, very much.”

Her face was pressed so hard against his shoulder that he might have missed what she said, except that she’d told him repeatedly and added a few very’s and that made the difference. He’d been about to ask her to clarify what she was saying, but then it sank in, and in spite of himself, and because she couldn’t see his face, Brice started to smile. It was a slow building thing, and his hand never slowed its comforting motion down her back. But still, as the feeling started to well up inside him, his lips pulled back further and further until there was nothing but the shade of the tree and his smiling up at the branches like a lunatic.

“That’s the problem, What are we going to do, Brice? We can’t… we can’t… there’s nothing.”

Everything that his sweet friend said past that might as well have been gibberish, or in mermish. Because Brice couldn’t hear anything past the sound of everything in his whole life going right for once. She loved him. Dahlia was everything that he’d ever loved in his whole life. He loved her temper and her plans, her attention to detail and even her impatience with just about everyone around her. But she was also kind and sweet, she was smart…and since she was all of those things, it was hard to imagine that she could love someone like him. Brice knew what he was, he was no catch. And yet…

“Dahl,” He couldn’t help the kiss that he pressed to her hairline, there were too many feelings to keep inside it seemed. Because they all wanted to rush out in a yell toward the heavens that she loved him! But he settled for one or two kisses toward her ear instead. The curly haired wizard tried not to sound too pleased. But it was so hard not to be!

“Do you”—sniff—“have a handkerchief?

“Huh?” Brice had been sort of daydreaming he realized. Mostly because his lips were still on her but not moving, and he was imagining all the wonderful scenarios in which she could have told him (or he her) that they loved one another. He really should have picked a better place or time, but it had all just slipped out. So all he could do was plan the next time he was going to say it. Maybe he would make it very special…

Oh wait, she’d asked him something.

“Yes, yes hang on then.” He had to shift her a little bit away in order to run his hand down his jacket in order to feel for where he was keeping his handkerchief. It wasn’t in his breast pocket and it only took the minimal amount of frisking to find it tucking into the inner pocket of his light coat, and he quickly handed it to her. Or rather, waved it a bit to get her attention.

“You don’t have to worry, Dahl.” Was he smiling? It felt like he was smiling still. He couldn’t stop; he probably looked like a nutter. “Everything will work out.” Brice for the first time in his life was confident, almost optimistic. Which was quite a change for him. He didn’t feel the heavy weight of the world on his shoulders, no, he felt light as a feather. Brice reached for his girl again, grasping her around the waist and tugging her to him for a kiss.

“We’ll work it out, you and I.” He said against her mouth. “We will, I’ll figure out something.”