by D. D. Marx
“That is so crazy. What are the chances?”
“I know. I’m starting to get hives talking about it so let’s change the subject to something fun like . . . Finn inviting me to go to Scotland with him for his parents’s thirty-fifth anniversary next week. Can I put my new job on hold for one more week?” I ask with a big grin.
“Of course. I’m ecstatic for you and will agree to anything to prolong your stay,” he states as he gives me a big hug.
“I’m calling Jane to have her overnight my passport with a few other things. Including the photo album of Dan so I can share it with Finn.”
“Okay, I’m heading into the store.”
“All right, I’ll need you to drive me to the restaurant to pick up my car. Then I’ll try to stop by the store later,” I add as I grab my phone to send Red an update.
So much to tell you. The hot chef I told you about that I thought was gay? Not gay. He is a widower . . . super sad story . . . tell you more when I see you. We’ve been inseparable AND he just invited me to go to Scotland with him for his parents’s thirty-fifth anniversary next week.
Just so we’re clear. He’s a widower, and he’s flying you to Scotland to meet his parents?
Yes. I’m still pinching myself and praying I don’t do anything to jinx it.
You won’t. Just enjoy it. You deserve every second. Was it worth the wait?
Every second.
Don’t come back married for God’s sake. I will kill you.
Oh, please.
When are you coming home?
Maybe never.
Really?
No, but not sure I can hide from my family much longer.
Text me some pictures and have fun. Miss you. XO.
Love you, XO.
#
Garrett surprises me with a trip to Beverly Hills to shop. He spoils me. I need the right mix of outfits appropriate for meeting the parents and for a sexy getaway with Finn. He even buys me a full set of luggage so I can travel in style. As I’m putting the last few things in the suitcase, I hear the doorbell ring. Finally, my package from Jane. I get scissors and break into it. She sent everything I asked for and what in the world is this? Pot Pourri? What the hell is Poo-Pourri? I open the note from Jane.
Liv, have a wonderful trip. I packed everything you asked for including the photo album. I went through it—made me cry. He was one of a kind. Bring me something fun from Scotland. Have a safe trip, love you.
P.S. You are one lucky girl; your passport expires in seven months. Just under the wire.
P.S. The Poo-Pourri is for you to spray in the toilet before you go poo-poo. Get it? Hahaha. I don’t need you scaring away my future brother-in-law. Trust me. It’s a life saver.
Oh, what the hell, it’s tiny, so I throw it in with everything else.
Hi beautiful, I’m on my way over to pick you up. Are you ready?
Yes. Perfect timing. The box with my passport just arrived fifteen minutes ago. I was a wreck pacing around, waiting for it to come. And you are not going to believe this, but it expires in seven months. I will just make it.
Talk about cutting it close. My visa is about to expire soon. I’ll have to make another trip back over in the next few months.
Too close.
Okay. I’ll be there shortly. XO.
XO
We arrive at the airport in plenty of time. We get through security and arrive at our gate ninety minutes ahead of boarding.
“There’s a storm blowing in. I hope we don’t get delayed,” he says as he looks west out of the airport windows. The weather here is different. They get storms that are thunder and sandstorm combined. Nothing would get in or out if it heads this way. This is just a regional flight to Los Angeles where we have our direct flight to Edinburgh. We have a tight connection so I’m praying we don’t get delayed. We checked in with customs so we don’t have to deal with the crowds at LAX.
Boarding begins on time.
“Surprise,” he says as he hands me my ticket.
“What’s this?”
“Yer ticket. We’re flying first class, roundtrip.”
“You keep blowing my mind. Thank you for being so thoughtful and generous.”
“My pleasure. You’re easy to spoil.”
“I’ll keep reminding ye so that each one of these gestures will make it that much harder for ye to shake me. I hope ye know what yer getting yerself into.”
“Indeed. And so far, it’s wonderful,” he says as we get buckled in for take-off.
“So just a heads up. In case you were planning to ask me to join the mile-high club, the answer would normally be a resounding yes, but I would need a full hazmat team to scrub that tiny little bathroom from head to toe before I could even step foot in there. I’m worried I might have to use it as an actual bathroom since the flight is so long.”
“But how am I going to resist ye for that long?” “I’ll make it up to you when we get there.”
“Deal.”
The flight attendants make their rounds, cover all the safety information and just as they are about to close the doors, I look out my window and alert Finn.
“Look, there’s a rainbow off in the distance.”
“It must mean she approves,” he says as he reaches over to kiss me.
“Okay, maybe I was a little hasty with the whole hazmat suit.”
#
We board our flight in LAX. It’s almost a fifteen-hour flight. I’m not the best flyer, being that I love to be in control but I feel safe with Finn by my side. As we get seated, the flight attendant brings us the bottle of champagne that Finn ordered.
“I thought we should celebrate but it will also help with a nap so we’re not so groggy and jet lagged once we land,” he says.
“Great idea. Of course, I’m on board with any excuse for some bubbly,” I say just as the pilot comes on to announce we are next in line for take-off. We’re not twenty minutes into the flight when we hit a rough patch of turbulence. My hands start sweating as I reach for Finn.
“Lass, are you afraid to fly?” he says, almost making fun of me.
“It’s not funny; I really don’t like it. I’m scared,” I shriek.
“Oh darling, I’m sorry; I didn’t know it bothered you so much. Just hold my hand, we should be out of it in a few minutes,” he says, sweetly trying to calm me down but I can’t concentrate on anything. My heart is racing; I’m borderline in tears. I don’t want to break down in front of Finn. I don’t want him to think I’m a wuss so I try to take a few deep breaths to settle myself, while I continue to guzzle champagne.
“Slow down there. One drink in the air is three on the ground. I don’t want ye to make yerself sick. Why don’t you close your eyes for a few minutes? It should be over soon.”
Those were the last words I heard before I dozed off. I must have been asleep for four hours. I wake up disoriented, feeling nauseous with a pounding headache. I reach into my bag for some water and a couple of aspirin. We have eight more hours until we land. Finn looks so peaceful sleeping next to me. I reach out to caress his face but I don’t want to wake him. I flip through a few of my magazines but my mind keeps wandering. I keep thinking about this whole Finn and Mac thing. How did I get myself into this dilemma? Here I am, on a plane, after only knowing him a few weeks, on the way to meet his parents. I really haven’t thought about the magnitude of what this means. I’m immersing myself deeper and deeper into this lie. If he ever finds out, now his parents will be involved. What would they think of me? What will they think of me is the better question. I know very little about Christine. Will I measure up? What was she like? I don’t even know the shoes I’m trying to fill. I become flushed as all my insecurities come flooding in. I mean, was she kind? Generous? Thoughtful? Oh my God, was she hot? Why have I not realized how big of a deal this is? I’ve been swept up in this fun, steamy, romance without looking at the bigger picture. He’s taking me to Scotland to me
et his parents. The first woman they will be meeting since . . . they helped their son bury his wife. Just as I’m two minutes shy of a full-blown panic attack, Finn wakes up.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he whispers as he reaches over with a playful grab.
“Hey you. How was your slumber?” I say sweetly as I nuzzle him. His mere presence calms my nerves.
“How long was I out?” he asks as he stretches, putting his arm around me.
“I woke up about an hour ago so probably six hours.”
“Oh wow. Did we miss dinner?”
“The flight attendant said she’ll bring it over as soon as she sees you up, so it should be on the way. It looked delicious. Some sort of fancy chicken pasta.”
“Good, I’m famished. How are ye feeling? Did the nap help?”
“Much better, thanks. I woke up to smooth air so think I’ll make it.”
“Brilliant. That’s something new I’ve learned.”
“What?”
“You have a fear of flying. I didn’t know.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I look down at my lap, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” he challenges as he turns his body to face me, letting me know he is all ears.
“Where should I start?” I ask playfully.
“Let’s play a rapid question game. I will ask a question and ye blurt out yer answer.”
“You’re on,” I say as the flight attendant delivers our dinner and fresh cocktails.
“Favorite color?”
“Baby Blue.”
“Favorite meal?”
“Breakfast.”
“Favorite movie?”
“The Notebook.”
“Chocolate or Candy?”
“Candy, the sugary the better. Think sour skittles.”
“Favorite flower?”
“Roses, red.”
“Early bird or night owl?”
“I peak at two in the afternoon.” I laugh as he responds, “Noted. Schedule lots of nooners.”
“Pancakes or French Toast?”
“Neither. Bacon and eggs.”
“Aye. A woman after my own heart.”
“Boxers or Briefs?”
“Boxer briefs but preferably none.”
“Travel the world or buy a lake house?”
“Both. Okay, your turn. Let’s hear it.”
“Green. Any meal with ye. Step Brothers. Chocolate. Night owl. French Toast. Thongs and both,” he rattles off as we get two more cocktails delivered.
“Okay, so now I know yer afraid to fly but what are ye really afraid of?”
“Wow,” I respond as tears well up. “That’s a loaded question,” then I take a long pause. “I guess my biggest fear is . . . ending up alone.”
“Oh, Liv . . . ye have nothing to worry about, not while I’m around.” He leans over to wipe a tear from my cheek.
#
We traveled overnight, so we arrived mid-afternoon the next day, Scottish time. Finn is surprising his parents so we need to keep a low profile over the next twenty-four hours. We check in at our hotel. The Pitbauchlie. I have no idea what to expect but the grounds are beautiful; colorful flowers cover the garden on the winding road up to the building. Finn turns the key in the lock as we enter our room. I guess the best way to describe it is simple. It reminds me of a room in my grandma’s house. White walls, light wood furniture, neutral bedding, a nightstand, desk and one lamp. Nothing fancy but clean. I’ve heard stories from people where they’ve had to share a hallway bath with other people in European hotels. We at least have our own bathroom. The bed is interesting. It’s two twin beds pushed together. I guess we aren’t spending much time here. We’ll be sleeping and, knowing us, I’m not even sure how much sleeping we’ll be doing.
“Get settled in, Liv. I’m going to sneak over to the club to meet with the manager and make sure everything is taken care of for tomorrow. Do ye need anything before I go?”
“No, I’m good. I’m looking forward to a shower and some sleep.”
“Yes, ye should try to get some sleep so yer not too jet lagged tomorrow. I’ll wake ye up when I get back and we can head to dinner. How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I start to unpack my suitcase and notice a very strong floral odor. It smells like someone dumped an air fresher all over my stuff. I start digging to find the source of the problem. It’s the Poo-Pourri. Shit. It leaked all over everything. Are you kidding? What am I going to do? Everything smells like someone took a fresh, linen-scented shit in my bag. Seriously? Ugh, I am going to kill Jane. What happened to using a bathroom in the lobby of the hotel? I call down to the front desk to see if they have any laundry services available. I have to get everything washed, stat. They have a twenty-four-hour service and can even get me some things back by early morning. The challenge now is to determine what can be salvaged to wear out to dinner tonight. I find a pair of skinny black jeans and a white, lacey, spaghetti strap top that was buried deep enough that seems only slightly damaged. I open the window in our room in hopes that the breeze will provide a natural air vent.
I wake up from my nap and finish getting cleaned up when Finn arrives.
“Don’t you look smashing. I love that top; get over here.” He grabs my waist to pull me in for a tender hug and kiss. “Is that a new perfume you’re wearing?”
“Oh, you can smell that?”
“Aye. I haven’t smelled any scent on ye before. It’s a little strong but I like it.”
“Ugh. I have to come clean. A bottle of Poo-Pourri exploded all over my bag.”
“A bottle of what?”
“Poo-Pourri. It is a deodorizer for the bathroom when, you know, you have to go-go, so the bathroom doesn’t stink.”
“Oooooh.”
“Don’t think I’m a weirdo. Jane sent it in my package with my passport and suggested I bring it with me since I’d be spending multiple days with you in a hotel. She didn’t want me to be uncomfortable.”
“That, my dear, is adorable. Everyone poops. Plus, I’ll give you some privacy if ye need it if we’re not ready to take our relationship to that level.” He cracks up then kisses my neck.
“Enough about poop. How was your meeting?”
“Terrific. Everything is all set. Mum and Da still have no clue I’ll be at the party.”
We go to a restaurant called Ostlers Close where Finn knows the head chef. He is expecting us and has a beautiful table waiting right near the window, overlooking the cobblestone building and alleyway. It’s very quaint, upscale. We start off with a bottle of wine. I take one look at the menu and notice how fancy everything is. I have no idea where to start. I let Finn know he can order for us since this is his specialty. He starts us out with some fresh oysters. I’ve never eaten an oyster but I trust he won’t steer me wrong. He squeezes some lemon on it along with a little horseradish and cocktail sauce, hands it to me and says, “Just slurp it, all in one bite.” I follow orders and am pleasantly surprised. I like it. I’m a texture girl so if something looks slimy or chewy, I stay away from it. Everything that crosses my lips is delicious. I never would have tried any of it from reading the menu. I love that Finn broadens my horizons, especially my palette.
#
We arrive early afternoon the day of the party to check the set-up progress. The party is at the golf course where Finn and Mac worked during in high school. We grab a golf cart and he gives me a tour of the grounds. He shows me where Mac had his accident. Scary. He was so lucky to escape without lifelong injury. The grounds are stunning, lush and green. The sun is shining but surrounded by big white fluffy clouds. The air is crisp and you can smell the salt in the air from the sea. I can’t believe I’m in Europe. I’m taking endless photos. Everything is so ornate and historic. I wonder if Dan came here on his trip. There is so much I want to see and do but there isn’t any time. We arrive at the club house and he leads
me into the main dining room. He heads back to the kitchen to throw his weight around and I start making my way through the memories. He had some of his parents’ friends collect old photos. There are framed portraits and poster boards surrounding the head table. As nervous as I am, I want to know everything about Finn. His family, his childhood, Christine. I approach the table to find pictures of baby Finn. I’m anxious to inspect. He is chubby but super smiley with huge dimples, tiny freckles and sparkly eyes, just adorable. You can tell even from this young age he is going to go on in life to do great things. I make my way through the awkward primary school class sections to his secondary school graduation picture. So handsome. As I’m gaining the courage to move over to the Christine section, the butterflies kick in. It’s overwhelming to know how much he loved her, to realize he had to watch her die. Unfathomable. I love Dan with everything I have but he’s my best friend, not my lover and husband. Devastating, yes, but I would never have survived. Not a chance. As my eyes shift to focus on the next picture, my thoughts are interrupted. I’m in shock and awe when my brain processes what I’m seeing. It’s a photograph of Christine, Finn, and Dan, from Ireland. Oh.My.God. Christine is Frank. Impossible. Chills take over my entire body as I grab the table to hold me up from collapsing.
Just as he is making his way back over to me, he notices my tears.
“Liv, love, what’s the matter?” he begs. I can barely get the words out.
“Finn, oh my God. Christine…. She’s Frank....Mary Christine Frances.”
“Aye but how on earth did you figure that out?”
I point to the photograph, “Because this is Dan, MY Dan. Frank’s Dan; he’s the one who died.”
“Bloody hell, Liv . . . Jesssuuus . . . “ Aghast, he paces back and forth, his hands on his brow.
“I couldn’t find Frank to tell her about the accident,” I whimper.
“He never made it to our wedding. I cannot believe this. I should have known. That day when ye walked in with your claddagh necklace. Frank had the exact same one. It was a gift from Dan when we traveled in Ireland. He bought an identical one for his best friend Hank at home. Of course, Olivia Henry . . . Hank.”