The Kisser

by Liv Kingstown

  “Nah,” he says, blinking those indigo blues and shedding a sly grin. “You can name our first child whatever you want. But her nickname will be Lily, because she’s my Lil’ girly. Aren’t you, Lil’?” he asks her.

  Of course, I know the truth about the name he’s picked. “Taylor, you don’t have to hide the true reason you want to name her Lily. I know you’re a man who loves flowers.”

  Taylor buries his blushing face in my lap. “I do,” he laughs at himself.

  “And what about dance?” I run my fingers through his hair. “Do you still love dancing?”

  He exhales and his eyes water. I can’t tell if those eyes are dewy because he misses the studio or because he wants to let it go.

  “I miss dancing,” he chokes. “I’ve come to realize how much I love it, in fact, I can’t believe how bad I want to go back.”

  I cup his warming cheek. “Then, why don’t you?”

  “Because I love you more,” he says, locking eyes with me. “I don’t want anything to come between us. Never again.”

  “Taylor, you can have both.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “Me, you, the baby, and dance—that’s a lot. Plus, the school. I don’t feel I deserve it all. I’ve been so selfish.”

  “That’s the little boy talking. You sound like me, influenced by things beyond our control. But you’ve worked your ass off. You deserve everything you’ve fought for along with everything your heart desires.”

  “You’re right. I do deserve more,” he speaks haughtily, popping up to sit beside me. “Kiss me,” he says through puckering fish lips, which makes me laugh. “I want kisses from morning till night whenever we are at home together, but only if you think I deserve them.”

  I pinch his lips, squishing them between my fingers. “I think you deserve more than a kiss. I think you deserve a spank as well.”

  “Whoa,” he chortles, leaning in. “Whatever I’ve done to deserve that, please tell me. I’ll do it again. I love being spanked, especially if it means I get to spank you back.”

  He nuzzles my neck and I sink into the mattress, giggling. He uses the opportunity to kick out his legs and maneuver to hover above me. “Will you marry me, Ree?”

  My body stiffens. My eyes widen. I can’t breathe. He’s mentioned the “M” word in passing, but I wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking.

  “Here,” he says, reaching over the opposite side of the bed to grab his phone. He unlocks the screen and shows me a picture.

  My heart leaps at what I see! A ring. I’ve never seen a piece of jewelry so pretty and so…

  Different.

  “This, I have on order from the shop around the corner, but it hasn’t come in yet,” he says embarrassingly. “The stone is a pink jade set in rose gold. I love the detail of the embellished flowers encircling the stone. I couldn’t bring myself to buy you a diamond for our engagement but if you want a diamond, I’ll get you one and you can have both.”

  I examine the image. In truth, I can’t wait to have it. “I love it,” I reply. “It’s very special. And that’s enough.”

  “Good, because there’s an insatiable urge to ask you to marry me now, Ree. I want to get married. I want us to be a family. I should’ve never called you Rosie, but I would love to share my name with you. Will you be my Mrs. Rose?”

  Taylor’s face blooms crimson. I’ve never seen a man so desperate for anything in his life and it’s adorable. If his fans could see him now...

  “Wait!” I say, reaching over to the side and grabbing my phone. I open the camera app and position my cell so I’m completely capturing Taylor’s head and shoulders. “Ask me again,” I tell him and hit record.

  Taylor clears his throat, smiling boldly, and fixes his smile so his straight white teeth beam straight into the lens as he articulates clearly. “Will. You. Marry. Me?”

  I stop the camera. I’m so giddy. He’s going to get a million likes for that. I’m about to hit replay and watch him ask me again, but he snatches my phone out of my hand.

  “Rerun,” he growls, waving my phone back and forth, holding it hostage.

  I reach for my cell, but he keeps it from me. This man sure loves to play keep-away and I’m excited that we are in a bit of a wrestling match.

  Taylor drops my phone behind him. “Answer the question,” he groans, gripping my elbows and pinning my arms above my head to render them useless. I wiggle, struggling against him simply because it’s fun.

  But he’s not playing. “Answer,” my captor demands once again. His eyes blaze into mine and there’s no avoiding the question now.

  “Yes.”

  His head cocks to the side as he studies me. A devilish smile widens as his chin goes up and he lets go of my arms before handing me my phone. He looks so proud of himself, like he just fought a battle and won, despite the fact I’m holding the trophy.

  My phone flops out of my hand as Taylor plants a hard, sloppy sucking kiss on my mouth. It’s not the kind of kiss found in fairy tales (it’s rather wet and possessive and with a lot of tongue), but it is a kiss. A real one. From a genuine man who loves me.

  “I’m going to make you some breakfast,” he says with a raise of one brow.

  “That would be lovely,” I say, watching his bare-naked tight ass rise from the mattress and wander over to the kitchen.

  Quickly, I snatch up my phone and snap a pic.

  “I heard that,” he groans. “That’d better not go public.”

  “But it’s such a sexy shot.”

  “If you want sexy, baby, take a selfie,” he says, puckering his lips and blowing a kiss my way with a sweet wink.

  Stretching out his arms, he makes a few circles, limbering up.

  Taylor isn’t just a dancer but a born fighter. Soon, he will also prove to be a savvy businessman and months from now, a wonderful father.

  Lucky for me, he’s also a great cook and I see him finish his stretch with a bend at the waist to pull out a pan from the lower shelf.

  Sitting up, I pause to capture this moment with my own eyes, committing this scene to memory. I want to be able to recall this moment—rerun this every day in my mind for the rest of my life.

  As the pan hits the stove, a mixing bowl is twirled, and I become completely enthralled by eggs cracking, hands whisking, and milk being poured into flour.

  I’m so excited, I can hardly contain myself. This man is a legend and this is exactly my kind of show. I’m witnessing the performance of a lifetime.

  “Taylor Rose,” I whisper to myself.

  It’s so nice to have a fan.

  Epilogue

  Rerun

  Three years later...

  “Ow! Lily, please sit down.”

  My baby girl is bouncing, jumping on my thighs. “I wan danth.”

  “I know, baby, but it’s not your turn right now. It’s Daddy’s turn. We’re here to watch, remember?”

  “Huh-nnnno,” she whines, throwing her head back. Her chocolate curls bounce as her knees bend, digging her bare feet into my legs so she can propel herself up and down, up and down.

  “Lily,” I growl nastily.

  “Do you want me to take her?” asks Dirk, sitting next to me. “I can take her outside.”

  “We can both take her,” says Ben, leaning over from two seats away.

  They just got married. The couple returned from Hawaii yesterday from their two-week honeymoon and of course, Dirk couldn’t wait to return to the theater even if he wasn’t in the show.

  “No, I wan danth.” Lily squirms, fighting against my grip. I feel hot from the embarrassment. People are swiveling their heads to spy at us.

  The orchestra has calmed. A soft lullaby plays as ballerinas onstage float like butterflies to form a half moon in preparation for the dance solo about to occur.

  As Lily grumbles, struggling harder against me, I see a young lady in the pit below the stage—in the orchestra—stand up to take the spotlight. My heart takes flight as Melissa Peters fixes her fid
dle to lay across her arm with a tuck under her chin, readying to strike her strings with her bow.

  Melissa and Taylor. They are a match made in heaven, a perfect partnership. For hours upon hours, they practice together. With her fingers and his feet, they create a performance that is unlike anything one has ever seen or heard. And no matter how many times I see them together, I never get tired of listening and watching.

  My kid on the other hand...

  Lily manages to wiggle free of me and darn! This child manages to escape into the aisle.

  I hear Melissa’s bow strike against her violin and as much as I want to peep up at the stage to see my husband make his appearance, I can’t. Because Lily refuses to stop spinning and bouncing and rolling on the floor, making a scene and causing a distraction.

  My tongue pokes out as I take a breather. I’m going to have to pick her up and yank her out of here. I ready my cane to stand, but chuckle when I see Lily fall flat on her chunky butt, which doesn’t stop her. She does a roll and interestingly, when she comes up, she pauses when she sees who’s onstage. As with everyone else, Lily is completely captivated by her father. Her cheeks glow. Her eyes widen. Her smile brightens, but then she puckers her lips with her chubby fingers pressed to her mouth and blows a kiss.

  I hear a few odd thumps and a boom!

  “Oh no!” A woman cries from up in balcony seating as gasps—dreadful, fearful gasps—escape the audience.

  The screech of Melissa’s fumbling fiddle pierces through the crowd and the music completely ceases. I see everyone come to standing and I’m fearing the worst.

  Dirk scoops his palm under my arm, nudging me to stand up as well, so I do. Peeping between shadowed heads, I make out the body of my husband. Oh no! He’s sitting on the ground slumped over.

  “Taylor!” I scream.

  He’s fallen!

  “It’s all right,” he shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair.

  “Taylor, are you okay?” I believe that’s Melissa’s voice I hear.

  “I’m okay,” he comes to standing as more people begin to voice their worry. “I’m sorry everyone,” he apologizes, looking to the crowd. “Please, you’ll all have to forgive me.” Thank goodness he doesn’t look hurt, but he does look embarrassed. He’s blushing, but at least he’s smiling. “I’m sorry I got distracted. My daughter is in the aisle and she was blowing kisses at me.”

  All heads swivel in Lily’s direction and boy, do I feel like a bad mama.

  “Hi, Daddy.” She puckers her lips, making more smooches.

  “Hi, baby.” He waves, making the crowd gasp again but this time with relief and joy.

  “Taylor, would you mind taking a picture with her?” shouts Ms. Peters who’s sitting front and center, but not because her daughter is the soloist. When you’re the school’s highest paying sponsor, you sit where you want.

  Taylor cocks his head unsure of the request.

  “It’ll only take a minute, Taylor.” Ms. Peters voice is gravelly and I find it very odd that others in the audience are also encouraging a photo session between father and daughter. In the middle of a show, no less.

  “Um... yeah, sure,” Taylor responds with a nod to Ms. Peters.

  When you’re the school’s highest paying sponsor, you get whatever you want.

  As if on cue, Dirk nudges me back. “I’ll get her,” Dirk says, maneuvering past to pick up Lily and bring my baby towards the stage.

  Oohs and ahs echo through the theater as a sea of phones and cameras appear. A milieu of stargazers snap their pictures and the scene becomes surreal. Lily revels in the attention of the flashing lights and it becomes hard for her, kicking her legs, when it’s time to pull her away, though not from her father. From the stage.

  When the show resumes, I decide to take Lily in the back to Taylor’s dressing room where we wait for the show to end. She sulks, unhappy, but her excited, rambunctious mind becomes occupied when I sit in Taylor’s heavily padded recliner, placing Lily on the ground to stroke her hair, allowing her to play with my boot.

  Fasten, unfasten. Fasten, unfasten.

  “I love you, mommy.” She glances up with big eyes.

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  “Daddy!” she squeals as Taylor barges through the door.

  “Hey Lil’,” he leaps at the chance to pick her up, squeezing.

  “As always, Taylor, that was a fantastic performance.” Dirk is elated, following right behind as he pushes his way in through onlookers.

  “Fantastic?” Ben is the least bit impressed also filing in. “But he fell.”

  “How are you, Taylor?” I ask worriedly. Taylor said he was okay, but my man has been known to dance through his injuries.

  “I’m fine.” Taylor has yet to look at me. He’s still nuzzling, giggling with his Lil’.

  She throws her head back once more but Dirk is right there to catch her by the shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” asks Dirk still concerned as I am about Taylor.

  Lily slips into Dirk’s hands and now the child is being tickle tortured by her uncle.

  “You did fall pretty hard, Taylor,” chuckles Ben, who tucks his hands under Lily’s armpits to snatch her away. She laughs even louder, tugging on Ben’s beard as he nuzzles her neck as well.

  Jeez, this child is a lucky girl.

  “I’m fine. Besides, it’s nothing my wife can’t fix.” Taylor finally makes eye contact with me. “You think you can give me a massage later?” He winks.

  “Sure,” I smile, winking back.

  “Oh! And that’s our cue,” says Dirk, snatching Lily back from Ben. “You wanna go with Uncle Dirk and Uncle Ben?” he asks of Lily. “We need to wish everyone congratulations on their performance tonight.”

  “Yeah,” she squeals with a delightful bounce in his arms.

  “Say goodbye.” Dirk waves her little hand for her.

  “Bye Mommy. Bye Daddy.” She waves. “Congashuns.”

  “Thank you, honey.” Taylor also gives his daughter a wink.

  As the three of them shuffle out the door, I hear Dirk remark on Taylor’s performance. “Daddy did such a good job, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah!” Lily agrees.

  “You’re going to be a dancer, too, aren’t you? Just like Uncle Dirk and your awesome Dad.”

  “Yeah!” she agrees again.

  “But he fell,” Ben groans, rolling his eyes as he shuts the door behind him.

  The room quickly feels quiet despite the echoes of chattering dancers and their families out in the hall.

  Taylor takes one wide step back to lock the door. “So…” He raises a brow. “About that massage.”

  “Seriously, honey, are you hurt?” I wonder.

  “No, I’m fine,” he walks over to me, getting down on his knees, wedging himself between my legs to wrap his hands around my back, lowering his chest to…

  Rest.

  I run my fingers through his hair and massage over his dewy body. “I wish I could tell you what a wonderful job you did, but I didn’t get to see much.”

  “I know,” he says. “But rest assured, I did well.”

  “Oh, did you now?”

  “Mmm,” his eyes wander up my body to meet mine.

  My nose scrunches. “Are you not upset that you fell?”

  “That’s part of the job.” He shrugs. “That’s just the first time I’d fallen in front of an audience.” His brows furrow. “Speaking of which, I was thinking I want to rename the school. In fact, I want to do an entire rebranding. Do you think you could help me with that, Ree?”

  “What would you like to name it?”

  “I don’t know.” He scratches his chin. “I like ‘Rose’ but I want to change the first part.”

  “Are you sure about that, Taylor? Changing the name of your school is fine but you’ll have to do some self-promotion to let people know about the change.”

  “I’m sure,” he says, “I don’t have a problem with publicity and I’m s
ure Lily will help me,” he chuckles.

  “Yes, she sure will,” I agree.

  “I just don’t know what to rename the school. I was thinking we could name it...” He pauses with squinted eyes and cocks his head to the right.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I was thinking... Hmm,” He cocks his head to the left.

  “What?” I’m dying to know!

  “The Robert and Rose—”

  “No, baby,” I croak, shaking my head. “That’s very sweet but no way. It sounds terrible. No.”

  “Gah,” he grunts. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. The conservatory needs a new name and I don’t know what to call it?”

  “Why not name it after your mother?”

  “Belle?”

  “Mhm.” I nod my head emphatically.

  “The Belle Rose Conservatory of Dance,” he mutters. “Are you sure I should give my mother my father’s last name?”

  “You’re not giving your mother a new name. You’re renaming the school after her and after you. Her son.”

  “You’re right.” His eyes get dewy. “It’s perfect, Ree.” He kisses me.

  As his lips press heavy against my mouth—kissing, devouring—I realize we are swaying. The sweet sound of a fiddle has found its way into the halls signaling for an after party and propelling Taylor and I to move in time with the music.

  “Taylor,” I speak through his wet, hot lips. “Did you notice we’re swaying?”

  “Not swaying, baby. We’re dancing.” He kisses me firmly, snaking his hands up my sides.

  “This isn’t dancing,” I chortle. “I’m sitting in a chair.”

  “Shh. Be quiet.”

  “Quiet?”

  “Yeah,” he breathes steamy into my ear. “Just listen.” He plants a kiss. “Listen to the music and let your body do what it wants. That’s dancing, Ree. This is dancing.”

  I pause my teetering shoulders to squeeze my knees tight against him. “My body wants you.”

  “Mmm,” he groans with a devious smile. “From the moment we met, I knew you were the one.”

  I laugh, sinking back. “The moment we met, you thought I was a dancer.”