Page 82 of The Tartan Thesis

Ten…

Nine…

The entire barn joins in.

Eight…

Seven…

My heart beats with every number.

Six…

Five…

Beau’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow, deliberate—

—and I feel it everywhere.

Four…

Three…

This can’t just be tonight.

I want him—beside me on a cold night in Edinburgh, cuddled up on his couch with a movie, fire crackling, my head on his chest as he laughs, our legs tangled under a blanket—

Two…

One—

What if he stays?

What if I let him?

“Happy New Year!” The barn erupts in cheers.

But when I turn to Beau, he’s looking at me like I’m the only one in the room.

Then my mouth is on his, and he must not have been expecting it because he doesn’t kiss me back. Then his lips respond as one of his strong hands comes around the small of my back. It’s not a steamy make-out session, but it’s not chaste either, the world around us fading to a blur of laughter and clinking glasses while we stay there, mouths moving slowly together. It’s a long time before we finally pull away from one another.

“What now?” Beau asks, blinking, a huge smile on his face, and it’s a loaded question. I don’t know if he’s referring to tonight or to us.

“We sing, ya numpty,” I say, deciding to stay in the moment, despite my heart hammering. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

I take his hand. Bodies shift, making space for us as we join a nearby circle. Hands begin to link, palms warm and slightly damp from dancing, rings pressing against my skin as I take the hand of the woman on my other side. The opening notes of “Auld Lang Syne” start, a fiddle carrying the melody before the rest of the band joins in.

I feel it rather than see it, the small turn of his body, the way his grip changes. I glance at him, see the flicker of uncertainty.

Does Beau know the words? Then the screens around the room switch from crackling fires to the song’s lyrics in both English and Scots. Relief flashes across his face. The band pauses, then everyone begins to sing.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my jo, for auld lang syne,

We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.