Page 129 of The Tartan Thesis

Kiss.

“And I want to spend the summer with you.”

Kiss.

“And next year with you.”

Kiss.

“And all the years that follow.”

Kiss.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Epilogue

Torin

Auld Lang Syne

Translation: Old long since (literal); old times’ sake; days gone by

Usage: To refer to a song that asks a poignant question: Is it right for the past to be forgotten?

“Hey, Tor. Come look at this.”

Two years after our first visit to Inverness together, and Beau still has that boyish joy that never seems to fade and always makes me smile. We finally made it to the renovated Inverness Castle today, enjoyed afternoon tea, then wandered around the roof terrace to take in the beauty of the city and surrounding landscape. The exhibits are about to close for the night, but the love of my life really wanted to see the tapestries before we left, so here we are.

I join him where he’s squatted down, staring at a panel, close enough that his breath fogs the glass. “Isn’t this cool?” he says without looking up.

“Aye, Beau,” I say. “It’s bonnie.” This tapestry features a man hiking across the Highlands and surrounded by smaller patches of stitched flowers, birds, and symbols, so I’m not sure which part has his attention. Until I spot a small multicolored cow, hair in its eyes and horns on its head. Of course.

“I wonder what his name is,” Beau says, and my smile widens.

“His coloring is pretty psychedelic. Maybe we call him Cowabunga.”

Beau grabs my leg to keep from falling over as he laughs at my lame joke. Puns are always a hit with him. He stands, still chuckling, and kisses me. “Have you always been this funny?”

“Aye, I’m hilarious,” I deadpan, taking his hand and guiding him toward the exit. “Everyone knows that.” He hums his disbelief but follows, lacing his fingers through mine.

We exit into a cold night, Beau zipping up and buttoning my coat for me while I do the same for him. It’s impossible to count the number of times we’ve helped each other into and out of various articles of clothing. I prefer to remove his, but that will have to wait until after dinner with Freya at her favorite pub. He kisses me again, soft and sweet, only making things worse.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand this time and heading toward the river.

I hold my ground. I’m stronger than I used to be. “Where? We’ve got a dinner reservation. You know I don’t like being late.”

“We’ve got time.” He looks back at me, that grin already working against me, then tugs on my arm. I sigh but follow. I always do. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to tell him no.

We walk down the hill through the cool night air, past twinkling Christmas lights, slow-moving clouds covering and revealing the stars above us. I breathe in deep, relishing being in this familiar city, now painted with even more happy memories, beautiful moments spent with Beau. Today was another.

When we reach the River Ness, he heads toward the islands. I smile. “Returning to the scene of the crime, eh?”

“Something like that,” Beau says, squeezing my hand and glancing over with a timid smile.

We make our way across the planks till we’re back to the site of our first kiss. Wreaths, garlands, and fairy lights all back in place, casting golden light on Beau’s face as he turns toward me in the middle of the bridge.

His eyes search mine, and I lean forward, ready to reenact our last visit to this location, just as he drops to one knee, still holding my hand.