It Started With a Kiss

by Melanie Moreland

  I chuckled as I went to the driver’s side and slipped in. “Is this a new rule?”

  There were always new rules in Maggie’s world.

  She rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Mom gets it.”

  I pulled away from the curb. “Mom gets everything—she’s cool. You gotta cut your old man a break, Mags.”

  Maggie’s voice changed. It softened and she smiled at me. “You’re pretty cool too, Daddy.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Princess.”

  “Are we going for pizza?”

  “Your turn to choose—whatever you want.” She was old enough now I let her choose our date locations. We had our favorites, but we tried to vary them.

  “How about Chinese? I feel like some noodles.”

  “Sounds good. After?”

  “Mini golf. I’ve got a score to settle with you.”

  I laughed. “Bring it on, little girl.”

  I looked at her wide-eyed across the table. “Dylan did what?”

  She giggled—the sound that still made me smile. “He did, Daddy. Three Cokes, one after the other, then he walked past Mr. Victor’s table and burped. It was so loud everyone in the cafeteria heard it. It was epic.”

  I groaned. Dylan was in constant trouble with his history teacher. No doubt, Avery would be telling me the whole story when I got home.

  Only then, I couldn’t laugh about it.

  We had a strict policy about date night. What we talked about remained between us. It was the same as girls’ night and when I was with the boys. Unless Avery and I thought it was something important we had to share, we kept our children’s confidences. Luckily, nothing major had ever come up, until now.

  “What happened?”

  “Dylan stopped and looked horrified. He gave the best apology you ever heard. He even sat down and told him about how the phrase ‘excuse me’ started.” She giggled again. “He spent all night last night looking it up. Not even Vicky could be upset after his little speech.”

  “Mr. Victor,” I corrected.

  She waved her hand. “He’s such a jerk, Daddy.” She scowled. “I don’t like how he treats Dylan.”

  I smiled at my girl. All three of my children were close and protected each other fiercely. Dylan and Carter might drive her crazy, but if someone so much as looked at either of them funny, she’d go all momma bear on them. The boys were even more protective of their only sister. Nobody was allowed to mess with their Mags.

  “Dylan likes to wind him up.”

  She snorted—another trait she had picked up from her mother. “He needs to be wound up. He’s the most boring teacher we have.” Leaning over, she grabbed another egg roll. “Seriously, I learn more from Uncle Steven and Auntie Caitlin during our family dinners than from old Vicky. He’s useless.”

  “I know, kiddo, but he’s your teacher and he deserves your respect.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but I gave her my patent don’t-argue-with-me look and she dropped it.

  She finished her egg roll, wiping her fingers on the napkin. “Daddy?”

  “Yeah, my girl?”

  “I love my flowers.”

  I still bought her a bouquet for every date. Avery told me she pressed one flower from each bunch I had ever given Maggie, and they kept them in a special book. I tried to change it up, but after ten years, I knew I’d repeated a few.

  “Good.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “If there was something I wanted, would you let me have it?”

  I shifted in my seat. That was dangerous ground and I’d fallen for it before. “It depends.”

  “It’s nothing dangerous or illegal.”

  I felt slightly better, but still suspicious.

  “What is it?”

  “Josh asked me to his prom. I want to go.”

  I gaped at her. “His prom? You’re . . . you’re fourteen!”

  “He’s ahead of me in school.”

  “You’re too young to date.”

  “We’d be going with a group of friends, Dad.”

  Oh—now I was Dad, not Daddy.

  I preferred Daddy.

  I decided to buy myself some time.

  “I’ll talk to your mother.”

  “I already did. She said I had to talk to you.”

  Damn it.

  “Have I met Josh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Daddy. Many times. You like him.”

  So many kids hung around my house day in and day out; especially after we installed the in-ground pool and the kids began swimming. I wasn’t sure which one was Josh. “Which one is he?”

  “Tall, dreamy eyes, and dark hair. His dog is Rufus. You look after him.”

  I snorted. “Well, I don’t recall the dreamy eyes, but I do remember how tall he is. Rufus is a great dog. He treats him well.”

  Her hand covered mine. “Please, Daddy. I–I like him. I want to go.”

  The kid was friendly and polite—I remembered that much. His dad, Jeff, was a good guy, too. There was only him and Josh; his mom passed when he was little. Jeff had done a great job raising Josh.

  “I’ll talk to your mom.”

  “Okay.” She squeezed my hand. “You could even be a chaperone, if you want.”

  Hmmm.

  I shook my head as I laughed. “You’re good, my girl.”

  “It was Mom’s idea.”

  I knew I was going to lose if I objected. I could at least keep an eye on them if I was there. I drew in a calming breath, unexpectedly feeling old. “I think we can work something out. But there’ll be rules. My rules.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There always are.” Then she smiled; that beautiful Maggie smile I could never resist. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  I signaled for the check. “Okay. Let’s go play some golf.”

  “Daddy?”

  “What?”

  “I’m glad you didn’t freak out or anything. But you’re still going down.”

  I laughed.

  There was my Maggie.

  Age Seventeen

  “Maggie, Princess, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She looked up from her uneaten pizza, eyes bleary and sad. I should have known something was drastically wrong when she asked to go for pizza, then ordered a plain cheese pie and chocolate milk. She hadn’t ordered that combination since she was ten. Not even my flowers had gotten much of a reaction. She kissed my cheek. That was all.

  The only conversation I’d gotten out of her was short, monosyllabic answers. Tugging on my hair in frustration, I tried again.

  “Sweetheart, you can tell me anything.”

  “Why are boys such jerks, Daddy?”

  I inhaled sharply. That wasn’t what I expected.

  “Um, is this a general question, Maggie, or do I need to go find Josh and have a talk with him?”

  “I don’t understand him!”

  I bit back my amusement. “We generally don’t understand you either, my girl.” I wrapped my hand around hers. “What happened?”

  “I asked Josh today if these jeans made my butt look big.”

  Oh, God. He hadn’t.

  Any male over twelve knew the right answer to that question.

  “What did he say?” I was prepared to tell her how her butt was not big and Josh was an idiot.

  “He said no. Then he walked away.” Maggie’s lip trembled, then suddenly she started to cry—big, wet tears rolled down her face. I pulled her into my arms, attempting to soothe her, as I tried to figure out how to get Avery to join us.

  If he said no, I didn’t understand the problem; so obviously I was missing some huge key in the girl world. Avery would know what to say and do to make Maggie feel better.

  After a couple minutes, she drew back and wiped her face.

  “Do you want to go home and talk to Mom?” I asked.

  “No. I want a guy’s perspective.”

  Shit.

  Things were s
o much easier when I could buy her a new My Little Pony.

  “Did you want to go to the mall and buy a new pair of shoes . . . or something?”

  She glared at me, picked up her chocolate milk and downed it, then stood. “I’d like another glass of milk. I’m going to go wash my face.”

  As soon as she was gone, I called Avery, and told her what just happened. “What’s going on with her?”

  She chuckled. “I think it’s PMS, Daniel.”

  Shut up.

  “My Maggie? PMS?” I whispered-yelled.

  “She was a little emotional this morning, as well. She’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll give her some Midol when she gets home. In the meantime, get her some more chocolate milk.”

  Oh, Lord, I was in way over my head.

  “Never mind tomorrow, what about now? She wants to talk boys,” I hissed.

  She chuckled. “Then talk boys. Give her your expert opinion.”

  “My opinion is I think they’re all after one thing and she should be locked up ‘til she’s thirty, but you won’t let me.”

  “Go ahead and share that with her today,” she retorted dryly. “She’ll punch you.”

  “I need you here.”

  “Nope. She wants her daddy. I gotta go. See you later. Love you!” She hung up.

  Maggie returned, looking calmer. I slid her fresh glass closer, hoping the chocolate would help. It always helped Avery.

  I exhaled and straightened my shoulders. “Okay, Maggie. I don’t understand. Josh didn’t tell you that your, ah, butt looked big, so tell me why you’re so upset.”

  She regarded me as if I had sprouted an extra head. “He didn’t tell me it looked good either.”

  I blinked.

  Then I glanced around the restaurant, wondering if I was being set-up. Was I being Punk’d? Was Avery standing somewhere with Beth, taping our conversation, laughing as I tried to figure out what to say?

  I looked back at Maggie, then took a drink of water, wishing it was alcohol—very strong alcohol.

  “Did, you, um, ask him?”

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “Did you ask how your butt looked in your jeans? Directly.”

  “No.”

  I warmed to the subject a little. “We men are fairly simple creatures, Maggie. If you had asked him how your butt looked instead of asking if it looked big, I think you would have liked the answer better.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Our brains don’t work the same as yours do.”

  She frowned, grabbed her phone, and sent off a text. Picking up her milk, she sipped, watching the screen. “Is that because teenage guys are always thinking about sex?”

  The water I was swallowing caught in my throat, and I coughed loudly. “Where did you hear that?” I sputtered.

  “Everyone knows that, and I asked Dylan—he said it was true. Plus, I’ve heard you say it often enough.”

  Oh.

  “I’ll talk to Dylan, and sometimes I say things I shouldn’t. Ask your mom. She’ll tell you I’m whacked.” I lowered my voice. “Is Josh, ah . . . ?” I left the question hanging.

  Her mouth dropped open, cheeks flaming. “No! Daddy—no! He knows I’m not ready. We’re both waiting.”

  The fondness I had for Josh increased tenfold. “Oh. Well, good to know.”

  Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, reading the screen. A huge smile spread across her face and she typed back a reply. She picked up her pizza, took a large bite, and chewed happily. “Are we going to play mini golf after dinner?”

  Her sudden change in mood surprised me. “You, ah, want to?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  I looked around once more. I’d missed something. “You feel better now?”

  “Yep. I asked Josh. Just like you said.”

  “Oh.”

  She beamed. “He said my ass looked fantastic. The best ass in the whole school.”

  Oh, God.

  If that was how things were going to go down from now on, Avery was coming with us on our next date.

  Age Twenty-Six

  Maggie dropped a kiss on my cheek before sliding into the booth. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hi, my girl.” I was only Daddy on the rare occasion now.

  She picked up her bouquet I had waiting, and inhaled the pink and white roses, sighing with pleasure.

  “You look beautiful today.”

  She smiled at me, fingers tracing over the blooms. “Gran says I look just like Mom did when you married her.”

  “You do.”

  She was Avery all over again. My sons were both tall—taller than I was—but Maggie took after Avery, in every aspect: her light-colored, curly hair; her small stature; and her gentle, caring spirit. She carried peppermints everywhere she went, and she even hated clowns. They were so similar it made my chest ache.

  Her eyes were the only difference. Swirls of blue and green made up the hazel irises. Their color caught the light and reflected her moods. Today they were calm, the green more predominant, and she did look like Avery. Her hair was caught up in clips and it hung down her back in masses of curls. She claimed to hate it, but I loved it. So did the other man in her life.

  I poured her a glass of wine, remembering our earlier dates of pizza and chocolate milk. Now they consisted of wine and some interesting entrée she would choose for us. As a food critic, Maggie loved trying new food, and we’d been to many different restaurants over the past few years.

  “How’s your mom?”

  Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “I exhausted her today, I think. The boys were taking dinner to her.”

  “Good. Everything set?”

  “Yes.” She grinned, looking more like a teenager than a young woman. “Two days from now I’ll be married! Can you believe it!”

  I shook my head, still unsure where the time went.

  Our children were all grown and on their own.

  Carter was married already, with our first grandchild on the way. Avery and I adored his wife, Suzanne, a soft-spoken, kind woman. He worked in the clinic with me; his path as a vet set early on in life, and he never wavered.

  For the longest time, we thought Dylan was destined to be a wild bachelor, forever coming home for meals and to have his laundry done—until the day he met Laura. The transformation had been mind boggling. Dylan settled down, his priorities and lifestyle changed drastically. Avery considered Laura an angel. He still traveled a lot as a freelance journalist, but his life had developed into something resembling normalcy.

  Maggie lived not far from us, and as of Friday, would marry her high school sweetheart, Josh. He’d been part of our lives for many years; he was already like another son. The day he came to Avery and me, to ask for permission to marry Maggie, there’d been no hesitation from either of us. We were thrilled to have him as a permanent part of the family. He’d called Avery his adopted mother for years, and she was pleased to know he would officially be her son now.

  “I guess our dates are done.”

  “What? No, Daddy! I don’t want them over!”

  My chest warmed at her endearment. “Really?”

  She covered my hand with hers. “I love our time. I’d miss it too much.”

  I squeezed her fingers. “So would I.”

  The entrées came, and I smirked. “Maybe we could stick to dinner. I’m getting a little old for mini golf.”

  She giggled, the sound making me feel nostalgic. “You’re not old, Dad. Mom still says you’re the sexiest man alive.”

  Avery did still think that way. I thought she was pretty hot too, and I showed her as often as possible, but I didn’t tell my daughter. She’d probably cover her ears and leave the table, gagging.

  “Regardless of how sexy your mother thinks I am, I’m tired of losing to you young people.”

  “But maybe every so often? For old time’s sake?”

  I relented. I could never say no to her. “Every so often.”

  She talked duri
ng dinner about some wedding details. Over coffee, I sighed. “Next time we do this, you’ll be a married woman.”

  “I’ll still be your little girl, Daddy. I always will be.”

  “My Princess.” I reached into my jacket and took out a small box, sliding it across the table. “For you.”

  “Daddy?” Her voice was thick with emotion.

  “It’s from your mother and me. She told me to give it to you tonight. Open it.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at the necklace. A single teardrop sapphire glinted and caught the light, hanging on a white gold chain. A set of earrings went with it. Simple. Elegant. Just like the beautiful woman who would wear them. My daughter.

  “Mom thought they could be your something blue,” I offered, fighting the emotion welling in my chest.

  “And new. Oh, Daddy, they’re perfect.” More tears formed in her eyes. “Just perfect.” She looked up at me. “Thank you.” Leaning over, she clasped my hand. “I love you.”

  All I could do was nod.

  Avery was sitting on the front steps, waiting for me, when I climbed out of the car, feeling every year of my age hitting me. She handed me a glass of wine as I sat next to her, resting my head on her shoulder.

  “Did she like her gift?”

  “She cried.” I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. “I did, too.”

  “Hard night then, Daddy?”

  “Where’d the time go, Sprite? How can our baby girl be getting married? We’re going to be grandparents.” I shook my head. “My God, Avery, I’m over fifty. How the hell did that happen?”

  She laughed. “Time flies.” She ran her fingers through my hair, pressing a kiss to my temple. “It’s been a great life. You’re as sexy now as you were the day I met you . . . and kissed you for the first time.”

  “My hair has more gray—and there’s less of it.”

  “Not really.”

  “I have to wear glasses all the time now.”

  “Your glasses only make you sexier, Daniel.”

  I chuckled at her words. She only ever saw the good in things. Including me.

  I looked at her beautiful face. “You haven’t changed a bit. Except, you’ve gotten lovelier over the years, which I didn’t think was possible.”

  “Look closer, my darling husband. You’re missing the wrinkles and bifocals. You see me with love.”