Loving Lily Lavender
By:
DeAnna Kinney
Loving Lily Lavender
Copyright 2012 DeAnna Kinney. All Rights Reserved
Cover design and formatting by Laura Hudson
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the owner.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places, or actual events are purely coincidental.
Other books by DeAnna Kinney include:
Charity Moon (Charity Series Book 1)
Charity Rising (Charity Series Book 2)
Table of Contents:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgements
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 simple 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 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 empty void his absence has left behind.
The last year 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 overcome. Despite the pain, I’m more determined than ever to make sure 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.
“I’ve had a hard week. 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 Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?.” she remarked with too much drama.“I love that show.” I pouted.
“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.”
“Yeah, and it rots, and we’re going to change that tonight.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked.
“No, of course not.”
“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.
“No way!”
“Okay, what about this one?”
“Oh come on, something that covers my lower body please. I wore that in sixth grade.”
She cocked her head at me, putting her hand on her hip. “Well, why do you still have it then?”
I smirked. “I’m sentimental, okay.” Actually, she had a point. It was past time to clean out my closet.
“Oh yes, this one’s perfect,” she declared, pulling a floral, lavender dress from my closet.
“Hmm, I guess I could wear that one.” I slipped it on, and then appraised myself in the mirror. “It’s a little tight. I guess I’ve gained a few pounds since I wore it last, but I can just wear this jacket over it.”
“No, it looks great without it,” she replied, pulling the jacket from my grasp.
“Meagan, are you sure? I don’t want guy’s eyes bugging out of their sockets.”
“Yes you do, and yes I’m sure. You’re beautiful, and your body is fabulous. Stop complaining. You look like a super model in that dress.”
“I don’t want to look like a super model. I want to look like a classy, respectable, young woman.”
“Oh shut up. After seeing you in that dress, I think I’m going to change. Where’s that red number I pulled out first?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She could be so dorky sometimes. It actually looked good on her considering she’s a little thinner and a lot shorter than I am.
“Okay.” She wrapped her arm around me and turned us toward the mirror. “I think we’re ready to go. Gentlemen look out, here we come!”
“Speak for yourself.” I snapped playfully.
“Oh, I am. Believe me, I am.”
It was already late when we pulled into Woody’s parking lot. Woody’s is a gathering place for the young adult locals. Now, normally I don’t find myself interested in going to places like Woody’s. To be honest, it’s not the kind of place I ever pictured myself meeting my future husband. However, Meagan was clearly
up to something, and I have to admit my curiosity got the best of me.
“By the way, I need you to pinch me every time I say ‘Oh-my-God’, okay?”
She gave me a curious look as we exited the car. “Um okay, I’d never turn down a chance to pinch you, but may I ask why?”
“Well, today the mother of a potential client pointed out to me that I was saying it and that it offended her. That’s the second one this month. I can’t be offending my clients. We do live in the Bible-Belt after all.”
She shrugged. “True.”
“She said you only use God’s name if you’re talking to him, or about him. Makes sense to me. Anyway, will you help me stop?”
“Okay, should be fun, but you asked for it.”
“Great.” I sighed deeply as we approached the front steps. “I have a bad feeling about this. Are you sure this isn’t a setup? Remember, I’ve known you for like a million years.”
“Don’t be so paranoid, Obi-wan Kenobi. So what if it is, you’re here now anyway.”
“I knew it! What have you done? Tell me now!” I scowled, stopping her at the door.
“Okay, calm down. Well, remember Randall, the guy from college that I had a crush on for like—ever? Well, I ran into him at the Piggly Wiggly this morning, and he mentioned that he had a friend visiting from L.A. and that they were going to be at Woody’s tonight. And well, I sort of mentioned that I had plans to be there as well—along with a friend.” She tensed waiting for my scolding—when it didn’t come she smiled. “You’re not mad?”
“Meagan, all you had to do was ask me. I remember how much you liked this guy. I would’ve come with you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah I guess. Sorry I was sneaky—and thanks for not being mad.”
“No problem. Now let’s get this over with. Just promise me you won’t leave me alone with this guy right off the bat like that time at your office party, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” she replied, rolling her eyes at me.
Once we were inside, it wasn’t long before Meagan spotted Randall and his friend sitting at a table, in a dark corner, at the far side of the room.
“Look, Lily, there they are. Randall’s the one in the gray shirt. Isn’t he cute?”
He had blonde spiked hair and was guzzling his beer with eagerness, afterwards wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. My first impression wasn’t a great one. “Sure, he’s cute, but—” My eyes were suddenly drawn to the sullen-looking guy to his left. I gasped and found myself instantly fighting the urge to fan myself. “Is that his friend in the blue?” He was the most beautiful guy I had ever seen. “Oh—my—God! He is gor—oww!” I squealed as Meagan pinched me as hard as she could in the soft flesh under my arm. I turned to glare at her.
“Well, don’t get mad at me. I’m just doing what you told me to.”
“I hate you,” I scowled, rubbing my arm vigorously to soothe the pain.
“Yeah, yeah. You can show me how much later.” She grabbed my wrist and began pulling me along faster than necessary.
“Now I know why you insisted on me wearing this ridiculously tight dress. You wanted to make sure I gave the wrong impression.”
“I totally wanted you to give the wrong impression, and it wouldn’t be so ridiculously tight if you would cut back on the snacking you do while you bake for your weddings,” she remarked under her breath as we reached their table.
“Randall!” she squealed.
Maybe it was just me, but it seemed like she embraced him for an embarrassing length of time.
“Um, Randall, this is my best friend, Lilianna.”
“Wow, nice to meet you, Lilianna,” he replied, stunned, looking me up and down. I instantly felt uncomfortable as his eyes did their strict inspection.
“Um, it’s nice to meet you too. Meagan has told me a lot about you, all bad, of course.”
Meagan gave me a stern look, and then turned to face his friend who was still sitting quietly at the table beside us. “So, is this your friend from L.A.?” she asked with exaggerated excitement, which I’m sure was for my benefit.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, this is my friend, Lucas. He’s visiting from L.A. for two weeks and just arrived yesterday.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lucas,” we both said in unison, then glanced at each other in embarrassment.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you both.” His reply was sweet and soft as he first addressed Meagan, and then turned his gaze to me. It seemed that his eyes held something for that brief moment as they locked with mine, but perhaps I was mistaken. Too soon he broke eye contact and stared down at his drink, tapping it nervously.
I seemed fixated by this, his fingers drumming in some unheard rhythm, when suddenly I jumped as Meagan squealed, “Oh, I love this song! Randall come dance with me.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him away to the small dance floor.
“It figures,” I mumbled under my breath.
“So, Lilianna, would you care to join me? That’s a beautiful name, by the way.”
I turned to regard Lucas and quickly recognized his bashful expression. I’ve seen it before, although never on a face so handsome. “Oh yes, and thank you, but you can call me Lily.” I took the seat across from him and focused on steadying my heart beat after the realization hit me that he was speaking with a British accent. Ooo la la.
He was extremely handsome and yet rugged looking. His light brown hair was in disarray but sexy, with slightly longer sideburns. He had thick, beautifully shaped eyebrows that framed his face nicely. His lips were thin, and deep red, like he’d been licking them a lot, and slightly agape. His eyes were dreamy and light, though I couldn’t quite make out the color, and he looked like he hadn’t shaven in a few days. He glanced at me then, breaking me from my train of thought.
“Lily, may I get you a drink?”
“Um, no actually, I think I’m fine for now, thank you. So, Lucas, I can’t help but notice your accent, where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh no, I don’t mind. I’m from London, but I’m living in L.A. for a time. I miss home though, but I’m planning a trip back soon.”
“Do you have family there then?”
“Yes, my parents, a beloved uncle, and two sisters.”
“Oh, it must be nice to have sisters. I’ve always wanted to have a sister.”
He ran his hand nervously through his hair, and I found the gesture to be slightly distracting.
“Well, I suppose so, but they always tortured me as a child, so I guess it would’ve been more fun if I weren’t the only boy,” he answered, smiling, running his hand through his hair once again. “Actually, I was born a twin, but my brother died right after he was born. In a strange way I’ve sort of felt like something has been missing ever since. Weird huh?” This time his smile was different, sad, though I noted even with this smile his lips made dimples in the corners, how charming.
“I’m so sorry. That must be hard for you,” I replied with a returned but comforting smile. I noticed him staring at my lips too, but then his gaze drifted quickly down. “So,” I said, changing the subject, “I’ve always wondered, are we Americans as interesting to you as you are to us? I mean, it seems like American women are fascinated by a man with a British accent.” I know I was.
“I can’t be sure, of course, but I would say yes, we find American women to be very fascinating for the most part. However, I have found many, in L.A. in particular, to be shallow and self absorbed. But I guess you could say the same for us, huh?”
“Well, I couldn’t, because you’re the first British man I’ve ever met, but I would have to say the experience has been pretty pleasant so far, to say the least.”
“Oh, Lily, you give me too much credit. Wait till we talk a little longer, you’ll be running away out of boredom,” he chuckled.
Oh no, I thought instantly. He sounds insecure. I hope not. A man that beautiful should never doubt himself. “Why would you say that, Lucas?”
“Wel
l, when it comes right down to it, I’m pretty boring.”
“I don’t believe that. I imagine your life is very interesting. What do you do for a living?”
At that moment the song changed to a slow song. He ignored my question and asked me one instead.
“Lily, would you like to dance with me?” His expression was questioning as if he were expecting me to refuse.
“Yes, of course.”
I could feel his hand lightly on my lower back as we made our way to the crowded dance floor. I spotted Meagan and Randall dancing, and as she saw me her eyes grew wide in surprise and then smug.
As I turned to face him, I noticed that he was tall, probably 6’2 or more, a nice fit for my 5’8 frame.
He put his hand around my back and gently pulled me into his arms. It felt strangely nice to have him holding me so close. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt the pleasure of a man’s embrace, and I didn’t realize until that moment that I actually missed it. I leaned in closer and breathed in his scent, a nice smell, a combination of musk and soap and I was, at once, lost in the moment.
We didn’t talk much through the first song, and the silence was sweet. I thought I felt him pick up a strand of my hair and smell it, but I could’ve been mistaken. “So,” I said finally, peering up to meet his gaze, “you didn’t answer my question before.”
He seemed in a dream-like state, snapping out of it at the sound of my voice. “What question was that?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Oh, that question. Well, I thought you were joking.”
“Why would I be joking?” I asked in confusion.
He searched my eyes, looking for dishonesty I assumed. When he found none he said, “You don’t know who I am—do you?”
“Should I?”
“Well, yes actually, but I’m not sure I want to tell you if you truly don’t know. I mean, I like what’s going on here,” he gestured between the two of us. “Everything is on equal terms, and it feels really nice. Once you know, I’m afraid things will change.” He sounded a little sad, though I couldn’t imagine why.
“I promise I won’t treat you any differently no matter what you tell me.”
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