Fate's Plan

by JA Low

  “Why would they be giving me their noses?” What an odd term. This makes her laugh.

  “No, they don’t give you their noses. Just saying that they will try and stick their noses into your business. They want the gossip.” Right, I understand, but little does Lilly know that I have dealt with people like that all my life. I know how to handle gossips. “Are you ready?” It sounds like we are about to blast off on a mission to Mars with the serious tone in her voice. But, she grew up here so I guess she knows what we are in for, so I brace myself. Lilly pushes the large wooden door open and the once-noisy pub falls silent, heads turn and stare at the intrusion.

  “Is that Lilly Simpson?” A big, balding man makes his way over from the bar.

  “It’s the one and only.” She smiles at him, then gives him a big hug. He picks her up off her feet and swings her around. Lilly is laughing, her giggles filling the old pub.

  “Yer back fae saving th’ world.” The man’s accent is so thick, which is hard to translate.

  “I am, I am. Missed you all too much.” The room erupts into laughter at Lilly’s joke. I can see she is well loved by the village.

  “N’ who’s th’ young jimmy wi’ ye,” the old man asks.

  “My name is Luke, not Jimmy.” I hold my hand to the old man, who just stares at it for a couple of moments before taking it in his meaty paw and shaking it to death, as he bursts out laughing, a deep belly laugh, and the whole room erupts in unison. I think the joke has been lost in translation.

  “Jimmy is the Scottish word for man,” Lilly translates for me. Oh, I see, and I give the old man a smile.

  “A’m Wallace ah ain this howf.” Okay, that can’t have been English, I look to Lilly for help.

  “Wallace owns the pub.” The old man is puffing out his chest, while slowly breaking my hand.

  “It’s nice,” I tell him, looking around at the establishment. It’s not really where you would find me normally, but it has a kind of rural charm about it. The dark wooden beams, the stone floor that is covered in old, well-worn rugs, the leather bar stools. Old photos of Scottish towns line the tartan wallpapered walls. An old stag head sits proudly on one wall, a stone fireplace sits across on another. There is a scattering of leather booths which are filled with people, candles flickering in the middle of the tables, giving it a rugged kind of ambience. There are more wooden tables scattered around, all set for dinner, with people of various ages sitting, and they are staring at me, some with curiosity, some with indifference and even some with disdain. I’m guessing they are not fond of outsiders, very much.

  “Luke, is Contessa’s nephew.” Lilly sticks with the same lie she told the other day.

  “Och, Contessa she wis a bonnie lassie,” Wallace tells me. “God rest her soul.” I understood those words and move my attention to the floor in respect.

  “We met briefly at the funeral, Lauren has asked him to come out for the holidays to look after the cottage while she and Alistair went on holiday.” This all sounds pretty close to the truth.

  “She went to see you. Why are you not there?” a woman pipes up from the corner.

  “That’s because I came home to surprise her, Seonaid,” Lilly tells the woman. “And she went to Africa to surprise me, a total series of unfortunate events.” They all nod at her comments.

  “But what about that young man you were dating, the doctor,” the woman in the corner asks. Lilly visibly stills, being put on the spot like that. I place my hand on the small of her back and Wallace eyes me suspiciously. “Unfortunately, Rob and I are no longer together.” There are gasps from the audience. “He was not at all who I thought he was.” The women all nod in understanding.

  “Ne’er liked him anyway,” Seonaid, who I remember Lilly telling me was the town gossip, adds. “He thought he wis tae guid fur fowk lik’ us,” she adds, murmurs from the people filtering through in agreement. “Is he yer freish Jimmy?” she asks.

  “No, Seonaid, he is not my new man. We are just friends.” I’m pretty sure we are not just friends, that there are a certain couple of extra benefits I have been exploring recently. Lilly’s cheeks are red with the interrogation.

  “He’s very cute,” another lady pipes in.

  “Wynda, behave,” Lilly scolds the old lady with the bright blue curly hair, who gives me a wink.

  “I wouldn't behave with him in my cottage.” The women squeal with laughter at the old lady’s brazen remarks.

  “Italian’s mak’ guid lovers,” a lady from behind the bar adds.

  “A’richt, Donna, a’m standing richt ‘ere,” Wallace says to the woman.

  “We a’ken scots mak’ th’ best lovers, dear.” She blows the giant man a kiss, he rolls his eyes but gives her a wink back.

  “Noo, c’moan, let’s git ye a dram,” Wallace says, and I’m lost again. Lilly, grabs my hand and I see the gossip’s eyes widen at the action, as she brings me over to the bar where Donna is serving.

  “Two whisky’s on the rocks, please,” Lilly asks. Donna nods and starts preparing our drinks.

  “I’m so sorry about that. We can go home if you want.” I can see it on Lilly’s face, she would if I asked her to.

  “No, I’m fine. This is great, it’s different to my home.” Because it is, I could just imagine what my father’s face would be, seeing me sitting down at some rural pub, sipping subpar whisky with people he would deem lower class than him. “If I get stuck, I’ll call out to you in Italian.”

  “Oh, my God, the old ladies will probably have a heart attack at your hotness if you whip your native tongue out.” I lean in a little closer to her.

  “You like it when I whip my tongue out, don’t you?” I say in Italian so no one can hear. Lilly’s jaw drops, she blinks in shock a couple of times. “I can’t believe you just said that, in front of all these people,” she scolds me in perfect Italian. It’s the first time I have heard her speak my language fully, and I like it.

  “Here’s ye drinks.” Donna hands over two glasses of whisky to us, before moving on to others waiting to be served.

  “You speaking Italian, is hot.” Lilly gives me the side eye, but no one can understand what we are saying, I doubt any of them can speak Italian.

  “Stop it,” Lilly hisses.

  “Fine, but tonight, I’m not going to stop, no matter how many times you ask me to.” Lilly takes an unsteady gulp of her whisky, while her cheeks are a dark pink, the exact color they go when I make her come.

  The night has been quite nice, much to my surprise. Everyone is lovely in the village, and it seems they very much look out for Lilly, as one of their own. You can see how proud they are of her, for the work she’s done in Africa, and the way they affectionately talk about Lilly’s nan, which made her teary a couple of times, but she assured me she was fine.

  “I’ve missed this food.” Lilly licks her lips, we have just finished a soup called Cock-a-leekie. I thought Lilly was playing a joke on me, but she wasn’t. What a strange name, couldn’t imagine serving that at one of our family dinners, my mother would probably have a heart attack at the sinful name. Then I watch in shock as they bring out platters of large roasted turkeys, baked vegetables and sauces.

  “Lilly.” I nudge her gently. “At home, we don’t eat meat Christmas Eve, giorno di magro, we eat lean to purify our body for Christmas Day.” Lilly’s eyes widen.

  “Oh, shit, they are going to think you don’t like their food if you don’t eat it. This is a big tradition in Scotland, to have a big roast turkey with all the trimmings. We can pretend there was an emergency phone call and go. I can get take away for us, and go home and have something that you would normally have.” My world stops at that moment. She is having a great time, but because I mentioned feeling a little uneasy about breaking my tradition, she didn’t even second-guess it. She is willing to pack up, eat our dinner at home, so I don’t miss out on my tradition. No, I can’t let her do that, she’s just come home from living in poverty for the last couple of years. Her sis
ter is on the other side of the world, her parents are in London but don’t seem to communicate with her, and the two people she was closest with have passed away.

  “It looks delicious. I can’t wait to try it all.” Lilly’s hand reaches under the table, linking our fingers together.

  “Thank you.” I want to kiss her in this moment, not caring if all these people see. She is an extraordinary woman, nothing like I have ever met before, or probably will again.

  10

  Lilly

  Luke, had one too many whisky’s last night, I think, judging by the snoring he’s doing this morning when I woke up beside him. I’m glad he had fun last night. I could tell it was a cultural shock for him, but he embraced it, as did the village, especially the old ladies. They loved giving him hugs, and squishing his cheeks, and not the ones on his face. Poor guy was totally manhandled by the geriatrics. Last night, Luke told me his tradition at Christmas Eve was to eat no meat to purify your body for Christmas Day, and because he didn’t get that last night, I wanted to do an Italian Christmas for him today, as much as I can with the limited food that I have in the pantry. I’ve spent the morning googling menus from the regions he said he lives in and I think I have some items to make him something that might resemble Italian food, with a bit of Scottish thrown in for good measure.

  “Morning.” Luke groggily enters the kitchen.

  “Merry Christmas.” Luke stills, rubs his eyes, and stares at me.

  “It’s Christmas?”

  “Yes.” He slumps down onto the arm chair beside the fire, his voice a little rough from all his singing last night.

  “Huh.” He stares at the crackling fire for a long couple of moments. Maybe Luke isn’t really that much of a morning person. Then he suddenly jumps up and rushes towards me, grabbing my face and kissing me. “Buon Natale.” Merry Christmas he says. “Sorry, that is what I should have done when I first walked in,” he says as he leans back against the island bench.

  “You kind of had a wild night,” I respond, turning back to my pots that are bubbling away on the stove.

  “The old people can drink.” He shakes his head.

  “Never get in a drinking contest with a Scotsman; you will always lose.”

  “Now, I know.” He chuckles. “What are you doing?” he asks, noticing the pots.

  “I am attempting to make an Italian Christmas.” His mouth opens in shock.

  “What?”

  “Last night you experienced a Scottish Christmas, I think it would be fair if you got to have an Italian one, as well.” He grabs me again and kisses my face all over.

  “Of all the cottages you walked into, I’m glad it was mine.”

  “Technically, you walked into mine.” I elbow him.

  “You are always so analytical,” he jokes, then he starts tickling me.

  “Stop it, stop it.” My stomach is hurting from giggling. I am so ticklish. He pulls me back into his arms again.

  “I’m very happy that you came home when you did. There isn’t anyone else in the world I would want to spend Christmas with today.” Luke’s words set butterflies off in my belly.

  “Well, I hope you still feel that way after lunch. I can’t guarantee the food will be totally authentic.” Luke kisses me gently again.

  “It smells delicious. Let me go have a shower and then I can help you.” It’s only been a couple of days since being home but it feels like a lifetime. How have I become so close to a stranger in such a small amount of time? Is it because we are forced together? Chemistry? That all we have is time to get to know each other without outside interference? Does it really matter why? It’s not like you're going to marry the guy. He’s a holiday romance. Once his time is up, that’s it, he will be a lovely memory I have of the one crazy Christmas I spent with some hot Italian stranger.

  I hear a raised voice coming from down the hallway. Who is Luke arguing with? He is talking in rapid Italian and I can’t quite catch it. You shouldn’t be listening, Lilly. He has a right to have a private conversation. Awhile later, Luke storms into the kitchen looking agitated, swearing under his breath.

  “Are you okay?” He stills, looking at me, his face softening.

  “Just business stuff.”

  “On Christmas day?” Who calls their boss on Christmas day?

  “The business is kind of 24/7,” he adds quickly. I haven’t pushed him about what he does for a living. I haven’t really pushed him much about his life. Is he even single?

  “You’re single, aren’t you?” The question throws him off.

  “Si, of course.” I let out a sigh.

  “I just realized I never asked.” Well, now, this is kind of awkward.

  “It’s a bit late if I wasn’t,” he tells me, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “True, but it would mean the candy shop is closed for you, if you are.”

  “Candy shop.” He bursts out laughing.

  “You know it’s sweet.” I try to sass him, which makes him laugh harder.

  “Lilly, I’m single.” He pulls me into his arms. “And I am so thankful that I am, because it means I can do this.” He kisses me gently. “And this.” Grabbing my ass and lifting me up on top of the kitchen bench, he pushes open my legs. Thankfully, I am still in my sleep shirt, and knee high socks. What? My toes get cold. He easily fits between my legs, which I wrap around his thick waist. “And this,” he says, pushing up the hem of my sleep shirt, exposing my knickers to him. “Is anything going to burn if I take your attention away for at least ten minutes? I can make it quick, just this once.” He smirks at me. I look over his shoulder and check what I’m cooking. Yeah, it should totally be okay. I mean, if anything starts to burn, I’m just here.

  “Should be fine.”

  “Good.” He rips my knickers off in one easy tug. Holy shit, he just ripped my knickers off, that is some kind of porn star move. I mean… damn those knickers were flimsy as. I thought Marks & Spencer were supposed to have good quality underwear, it shouldn’t tear like that. Damn, wish I had my receipt, I could have taken them back for faulty workmanship. “Lilly.” I pause my inner monologue and look up at him. “You were in your head again.” And so I was. “Let me help you focus on other things.” He pulls me to the edge of the island, giving me a devious grin, opening my legs. Thick thumbs tease my outer folds, back and forth, until they slowly slip in. My hands hit the counter, my head falls back as the electricity begins to pump through my veins. He continues until his fingers are slick with my arousal. When I open my eyes, I notice his track pants are down around his ankles and he’s sheathing himself. “Sorry, it’s a quickie this morning, but I just need you.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip at his confession. He needs me. That has to be, like, lighting a barrel of gunpowder at a woman’s vagina. That comment makes a woman combust in seconds. He needs me. They are three words women want to hear. Luke pushes himself inside of me, and I love the feeling of stretching all around him. We are connecting at this moment, as close as anyone can be. Those chocolate eyes are intense as he fills me, he doesn’t move, we just share the moment of raw togetherness. His forehead falls to my shoulder. “You were an unexpected surprise, Lilly.” I could say the same thing about him. “And most of the time I don’t know what to do with you.” This is not the sexy times I thought we would be having. “You’ve opened my mind to many new things that I never dared possible.” My dirty talking Luke has been replaced by a philosophical Luke. “I…” Luke pulls himself nearly out of me, his fingers gripping into the flesh of my ass, then drives himself back into me, pushing me hard against the countertop. “I never thought…” He pushes inside of me again, deeper, seeking to be as connected as we can be. “I never thought there could be another way.” My mind is swirling with orgasmic fog, what is he talking about. “You’re special, Lil.” His perfect rhythm is taking over as he continuously slams himself into me. Now, that’s my version of what a quickie is. We both hurtle towards each other’s orgasms, higher and higher, until we reach that
peak simultaneously, then slump against each other, heaving with strenuous exertion.

  “That was…different.” Luke looks up at me, with a frown on his face. “Your dirty talking was a little different to what you normally say.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he quickly adds.

  “Hey.” Pulling his face to mine, not letting him feel embarrassed about sharing a part of himself with me, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Pressing a kiss against the stubble of the beard he is starting to grow, I continue, “Just wondering where it came from.” He’s shutting down on me, the fog of his orgasm has gone.

  “Let me clean up first.” He pulls himself out of me and walks towards the bathroom. I have no knickers anymore, so there’s no point putting them on. I’d better disinfect the counter. I grab the spray and quickly wipe it down, before following after Luke.

  “Hey. Don’t shut down on me, it’s Christmas.” Yep, pulling out the it’s Christmas guilt card. Luke lets out a sigh and turns around.

  “I’m sorry, Lilly. The phone call was from my family; they want me to come home.” My stomach drops.

  “Oh.”

  “Like you, I kind of left in a hurry.” I know that feeling, so I get it. “But, honestly, it’s too soon to go back, I need more time away, especially from them, they are very controlling.” I nod in understanding; my parents are the same. “I want more time with you.” He grabs my hand and kisses the delicate skin of my wrist. “The more time I spend with you, Lilly, the more I find myself.” Boom. There go the butterflies in my stomach, the cage that’s been holding them in just exploded, and I can feel them flittering around, tickling me.