Loving Lily Lavender

By: DeAnna Kinney

 (Lavender Series Book 1)

Prologue



Have you ever had the feeling that something wonderful was about to happen to you? Something so amazing that only God could be the responsible party? And yet, in that excitement of thought was also fear; fear of the unknown, fear of the changes it would bring, and fear of the possibility of it becoming all consuming. Would you run away and let the fear win, taking your joy with it, or would you cover your eyes and jump in whole-heartedly? Well, a year ago that was me, right before I jumped.

I suppose some might call me crazy at the fact that I, for one, still believe in love. Not the settle-for kind, mind you, or the just-co-existing kind, or even the friendship kind, any half-hearted romantic can believe in that kind of love. No, I’m talking about the slap-me-down, heart-pounding, can’t-get-enough, would-die-without-you kind of love. The kind that takes your breath away, changes you from the inside out, and makes you feel like you can climb the Empire State Building barehanded in ten minutes.

Did I believe it would happen to me? Yes, I suppose I did. But I was not at all prepared for the full impact the collision would bring, or the dizziness it left in its wake.

Who am I? I’m Lilianna, or Lily to most, and I’m sitting here at my computer at two o’clock in the morning with a lump in my throat and a steaming cup of coffee in my hand. Why, you ask? Because I can’t sleep without him, and writing the details of our short life together seems to help fill the emptiness his absence has left behind.

This last year with him has brought me more joy and fulfillment than I could’ve ever imagined, as well as heartache and pain. What will happen next? With the way my life has been going—who knows. There is one thing I do know, nothing can extinguish our love; not the numerous dangers that have threatened to destroy us in the past; nor the thousands of miles that separate us now. We will always make it back to each other.

My heart aches for him, every breath painful, reminding me that each moment without him is an unbearable sadness that only his presence can ease.

As I type every line, I wipe away a tear as I remember. But still I type on, capturing every look, every touch, every kiss, and every obstacle we’ve managed to overcome. Despite the pain, I’m more determined than ever to make sure that every detail is recorded. If it takes me all night, every night, I’m going to make sure that our love is never forgotten. In one hundred years people will still remember our kind of love; a love that knows no bounds—that surpasses all reason—and will never, never die.





Chapter One





One year earlier . . .



“All right, all right, I’ll go with you! Dang girl, what’s up with you tonight anyway?” I demanded, my voice rising.

“I’ve had a hard week,” Meagan replied. “It’s Friday night, for cryin’ out loud. We need to go out and have a little fun for a change. Besides, you need to meet some really great guy, get married, and fill this big, empty house with lots of babies. And that’s not going to happen if you sit at home every night and watch episodes of the show Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?,” she finished with too much drama.

“I love that show.” I pouted playfully.

“I know, but you’re a wedding planner—hello—you see that wedding crap all day long. At the end of the day, you need a life. I mean how much fun is it anyway—cooking for one?”

“You would know,” I retorted.

“Yeah, and it rots, and we’re going to change that tonight.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked, my suspicion growing by the minute.

“No, of course not.” But her guilty expression gave her away.

“You know I don’t want a man right now. My life is fulfilling without one, thank you very much.”

“Yeah whatever, now let’s get you dressed.” She towed me down the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom.

Now, I’ve been best friends with Meagan since third grade, and I love her dearly, but we do not see eye to eye when it comes to fashion. Her idea of classy is to throw a dinner jacket over a bikini, so needless to say I was a little wary as she began pulling clothing from my closet. The first dress she pulled out was a skimpy, red number she bought me as a ‘going away to college’ gift, which I’ve purposefully never worn.

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