"I don't know," she whispered, unable to look at him any longer.
She dropped her gaze, closing her eyes. She felt so . . . unworthy, and she hated that feeling. Hated it with a passion. She'd spent a lifetime feeling unworthy, unlovable. Not good enough.
"Look at me," he said firmly.
When she hesitated, he lifted her chin with his hand until her face was directed toward him. But her eyes were still shut.
"Open your eyes, baby."
When she did, her vision was obscured by the sheen of tears that threatened.
