Lily Writes

I like starting each book with a quote and a dedication. Sometimes I dedicate the book to someone whose story or struggle connects with the characters. Lately? I’ve been dedicating my books to Eduardo.

My secret lover.

They’re my books.

I can dedicate them to whomever I want.

This was all perfectly fine until my sisters finally read one of my books.

Who the hell is Eduardo?

Does your husband know about him?

Yes.

Yes, he does.

He’s the one who brought Eduardo into our marriage in the first place.

Eduardo is the romantic side of my partner. The over-the-top, suspiciously-have-you-been-reading-my-romance-novels side of him.

It started with a song. A recorded song. My partner doesn’t sing. It was in Italian. My partner doesn’t speak Italian. And it was perfect.

He surprised me with it in the car, and I knew immediately that he was up to something when we got in.  Then he turned on the radio.

There’s a bit of Labrador puppy in the man. He gets excited when he’s planning a surprise. Tries to act normal. Fails miserably.

That was fifteen—maybe closer to twenty—years ago.

After that, Eduardo stuck around.

Mushy birthday cards?

Love, Eduardo.

Valentine’s Day?

Eduardo.

Miss-you cards?

Yep.

That guy again.

We even have customized Funko Pop dolls.

Me as Lily.

Him as Eduardo.

My name isn’t actually Lily either.

Lily is the romantic, creative part of me. The part who writes love stories and believes morally gray assassins just need to find the right soulmate.

So, sisters…

Chill.

I’m not having an affair.

I just have book boyfriends.

Lots of them.

Which brings me to my writing update.

I just finished the first draft of Love Books, Margo and Hull’s story. Margo owns a bookstore. Hull is the town handyman. And I absolutely adore them.

Margo reads waaaaay too many romance novels.

I can relate.

Hopefully, readers can too.

Hull is a big teddy bear. A cinnamon roll hero.

Although he objects to the description.

“I’m not a cinnamon roll. I work on these abs,” he points out to Margo.

Sure, Hull.

Whatever you say.

You’re still a cinnamon roll.

This morning, Eduardo and I went to pick lavender.

The drive into the country was gorgeous. Rolling fields. Huge trees forming green tunnels over dirt roads. We spotted deer and trumpeter swans.

One of those perfect Michigan summer mornings.

And Eduardo definitely earned his name today.

Because my partner is terrified of bees.

Have you ever been in a lavender field?

Bees.

Everywhere.

Buzzing.

Hovering.

Having the absolute time of their tiny bee lives.

And there was Eduardo. In the middle of all that lavender. With me.

That’s romance, isn’t it?

Not always grand gestures.

Not always recorded love songs in Italian.

Sometimes it’s walking into a field filled with hundreds of things you’re terrified of because the person you love wants to pick lavender.

So, yes.

For Eduardo.

My hero.