Page 67 of A Lot Like Lavender

To fall in love once, amazing. The dream. A worthy goal so many people are after.

To fall into deep, abiding,your-soul-matches-minetype love twice… that’s a miracle. One I won’t squander.

Which is why when Jordan asked three weeks ago, it was my easiest“yes.”

There was nothing special about the date on the calendar. No fancy, romantic outing or super sexy interlude. In fact, we’d been walking back from the barn, cranky after an afternoon in one of the fields doing weed control in the summer heat, covered in fresh mosquito bites, and arguing about where the soon-to-hatch ducklings would be sleeping. I’d only just pleaded my case for a kitchen kiddie pool for our new additions—with Molly fully on my side, by the way—when Jordan dropped to one knee in front of Molly, took her hand, and slipped a precious, ruby ring on my daughter’s finger.

“You know I want to marry your mom, Little Red, but I want to make you a promise first,” he’d said. “I love you, Molly. I’m not your dad, and I could nevereverreplace him, but it will be the honor of my life to step in where he isn’t able. I promise I will love and cherish you every day of my life, if you’ll allow me.”

After witnessing their friendship blossom, and their love for each other grow so naturally andso fiercely, it was no surprise to hear Molly’s fervent, “Yes, Ace! I’ll love you forever, too.”

The fact that the next words out of her mouth were, “Does this mean I’m getting a baby sister?” and her bff, Jordan’s, response was a resounding, “Oh, we’ll certainly do our best, kiddo,” were just par for the course at this point.

So there was no question in my mind what my answer would be when my turn came. No further words or declarations of love Jordan could have possibly said, no length of time that would change what I knew so deeply in my soul. I wanted to spend every day I’d be given with Jordan as my husband. I wanted to be a family and to make one with him.

He knelt, with tears shining in his eyes and the bashful smile I love so much written across his face. And when he said, “Red… Sweetheart… do you want to marry me someday? Soon?”

My only answer could be a resounding, “Yes.”

Eight feet tall. Chiseled Jaw. Tattoos. Glasses. Loves my kid. Loves me. Is my very best friend.

How’s a girl to say no?

Now, here we are, three weeks later, on the morning of our wedding day, about to eat brownies out of the pan and, if I have anything to say about it, make out against the kitchen counter before our kid wakes up to interrupt. Exactly how things should be.

And if there were any doubts in my mind, Jordan saunters towards me with a fuzzy, sleeping duckling cradled in the nook of his tattooed bicep, and I’m overwhelmed with how right this all is. I’m more than ready for our life to start.

I’m marrying Jordan Love today.

“Morning,” I say, doing my own sexy saunter in a silky pajama set with Jordan’s face printed all over them.However happy Jordan may be to see me, when he narrows his eyes and keeps the coffee in his hand rather than offering it to me, I know I’m in for a scolding.

“Sweetheart.” He’s so adorable when he’s irritated.

“Hmm?” I pet the little tuft of hair at the crest of Marigold’s head. Though we tried to sway her with the names of the Spice Girls, Molly named each of her ducklings after yellow flowers. Marigold is Jordan’s favorite.

“I thought we agreed that the babies were going to sleep in the mudroom.”

“We said they wouldn’t sleep in the kitchen.”

“Because poultry bacteria is real.”

“Yes, that.” I kiss him for giving the right answer. Job well done, sir. “But you never specified how you felt about the living room. I would have had to move the pool to the mudroom. And today’s bath day, so…”

“Of course, it is.”

“It just didn’t make sense.” I plant another kiss on his exasperated smirk, then push his glasses up the bridge of his nose for good measure. “And I like them close to me.”

“Ya know what else doesn’t make sense, Red?” I don’t think he’s actually looking for an answer. “Attempting to sleep on a couch… in the same room as eight ducklings who have their nights and days mixed up.”

I pout out my lips. “I thought you said you loved the couch?”

This precious man takes a solidifying breath. I bet he’s wondering exactly what he’s gotten himself into. Too late, though, he’s mine.

“I slept with Daisy and Pansy chirping on my chest all night…” As if hearing their names, the ducklings nearby begin to peep wildly. Jordan returns Marigold to her sisters, then stomps back to me, but not before giving them each words of praise for being “such good little duckies.”

The poor guy has no chance of me doing things any differently, because now I have a visual of him cuddling chubby, little ducklings all night, and I’m having a difficult time not dreaming up more baby animals I can bring into our home.

What would Jordan look like with a lamb in his arms? Or a racoon kit? Or, my newest, most vivid fantasy, what would he look like with our baby on his chest? God willing, time will tell.