Leaving a Lavender Legacy (Lavender Series Book 2) by DeAnna Kinney

Author:DeAnna Kinney [Kinney, DeAnna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kinney Publishing
Published: 2014-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Passion

“This is a nice hotel room,” I commented as we entered. The living room was decorated mostly in white and had an elegant feeling about it.

“Yeah, I guess. I haven’t really noticed. Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“No, of course not,” I answered honestly.

He walked into what I assumed was the bedroom and disappeared from sight. Moments later, I heard the shower turn on and so I glanced around and inspected things, like any good wife would do. I peeped into his refrigerator; only a few cans of soda. So, he wasn’t eating well. Then I strolled into his bedroom. I took a look around. Everything appeared to be normal until I spotted a clear bag on his dresser. I walked over and picked it up. It looked like marijuana, but surely it wasn’t. I opened the bag and sniffed. Yes it was! I couldn’t believe it. I became so angry I thought I would break something.

It took all of my strength, but I sat down on the bed and waited for him.

When he finally exited the bathroom, he was dressed in blue jeans and was in the process of putting on a shirt and began buttoning it. I got up from the bed and stalked over to him.

“Do you mind explaining this to me?” I shoved the bag in his chest.

He just looked at me blankly.

The anger I was feeling surged through me and spilt over. I pulled my hand back and slapped his face as hard as I could. “How dare you! You don’t get to numb yourself! Do you hear me? If I have to feel the pain, then so do you!” I slapped him again. “Our son is dead! He deserves for his parents to grieve over him, not to run away like a coward!”

“You think I haven’t been grieving?” he snapped, coming at me and forcing me back against the bed. “I’ve been in pain every day since that god-awful night!”

“Well, so have I! It was me it happened to, remember? Our baby was a part of my body—my flesh!”

“Stop it, Lily!” he demanded, his face turning red.

I knew I was pushing it too far, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. At least I was getting some sort of reaction from him. “It was my face that was broken—my skin that was ripped—my body that was crushed!”

“Lily! Stop it!” He grabbed me and pushed me onto the bed.

“It was my heart that was stabbed by a knife—my blood that was spilt—mine and our baby’s!”

Climbing on top of me, he put his hand over my mouth. “Stop it, Lily. I mean it. Stop it!”

I struggled to remove his hand from my mouth. “No! You need to hear this! It was me who cried every day while rocking in our nursery. It was me who woke up screaming every night after having a nightmare with no one there to comfort me. It’s been me who has been grieving for not just the loss of our son, but for my husband as well.

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