by J. J. Keller
“No, my son is the artist,” she added a touch of haughtiness to her voice. Who knew the country club visits would pay off? She could imitate one of her mother’s friends with precision.
“I think, Miss, you should allow the artist himself to make that decision.” His nose lifted into the air.
“Have at it.” She pointed to where Justin currently performed his artist pose for photographers.
“He’s a baby,” Caraway claimed. “Barrett, when you said a young, new artist I didn’t expect an infant.”
“No, he’s a big boy,” Shania said under her breath. She smiled as Caraway marched toward Justin.
Monsieur Barrett touched her arm. “Oh, there are the reporters from Indianapolis. I’ll go see them.”
“I’ll stay here,” she replied and took a sip of her tangy champagne. I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston played as instrumental music in the background. Shania shut her eyes, for a second. She’d always love Morgan. She opened her eyes.
The man of her wishes stood a few feet away watching her. Green eyes sparkling, he was gorgeous outfitted in a black suit. A Jerry Garcia tie with splashes of gold and cerulean looked sharp against a white shirt. The slight lifting of his lips jolted her. She touched her throat, trying to stop the fluttering lodged there. Her hand quivered, slopping the liquid against the glass. Instead of Justin’s handprint on her cream dress, golden liquid would spill over the garment.
A waiter passed. She placed the flute on the tray, then took a step toward Morgan and another.
Morgan met her mid-way. “I came to tell you something very important.”
She met his gaze, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Lightheaded, she tried to relax or she’d pass out without discovering his message. “Yes?”
“I’m in love with you, and I think you’re in love with me.” He reached into his pocket.
He said the words she’d longed to hear. “What?”
“I love you. Do you still love me?” He grinned, as if knowing she wanted to hear him say the words one more time.
She bit her bottom lip and gripped her dress to wipe off the moisture on her palms. Her heart would go on. “Yes, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since you held my hair as I puked my guts up during morning sickness.”
He frowned.
“When we tell our grandchildren about our romance and my asking you to marry me could you say something else? Puke doesn’t create a good image in people’s minds.” He wrapped his arm around her, then kissed her cheek. He tugged her to a quiet corner behind a twisted metal piece of art. Ribbons clustered at the center of the work, sprung in various directions at the midpoint. A perfect place for a moment of privacy.
Her beats per minute escalated as high as the top of the steel tower beside them, making her feel weaker yet. Shania didn’t worry about falling off her high heels. Morgan held her safe in his arms. She whispered, “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes, but again, let’s leave that part out.” His lips found hers, sending the flutter from her throat into her stomach. He broke the kiss and taking her hand into his, knelt down on one knee. “Shania, will you marry me--forever?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, Morgan Hardwick.” She touched his face. “And I’ll spend of the rest of my life loving you.”
About jj Keller
http://www.lyricalpress.com/jj_keller
I write because my muse demands it. Often I’ll have friends or acquaintances say, “You need to tell a story about my life, it’s so exciting.” I’ve tried to create a tale from a pre-set accounting and it is like inserting needles under my fingernails. Not because my friends’ stories are boring, not in the least. For me, it’s difficult to base a story on what someone I care about believes is-was their life.
However, my mother-in-law is nearly blind and listens to books on tape for entertainment. She loves romances, mysteries, and stories about the military, but most of all families. Not the rich and successful trouble free families, but real people who experience true everyday problems.
Love Hurts is that type of tale. I took bits and pieces from my family and my husband’s family and wove a narrative which might make you laugh, or relate, but most of all, the story may make you weep.
jj’s Website:
www.jj-keller.com
Reader eMail:
[email protected]
More from Lyrical Press
Where reality and fantasy collide
Ready for more?
Visit any of the following links:
Lyrical Press
http://lyricalpress.com
New Releases
http://www.lyricalpress.com/newest_releases
Coming Soon
http://www.lyricalpress.com/coming_soon