Page 128 of The Tartan Thesis

“Torin,” I say, making the decision I knew I would all along, gripping his shoulders and staring him down, “I would never do what James did to you. He was a total rocket.”

He laughs and sniffs, dabbing his nose with my handkerchief. “You’re starting to sound like a Scotsman,” he says. “And yes, he was. Pure rocket.”

“He must’ve been,” I say, my hands moving down to squeeze his waist, “if he left you.”

“No, I know he and I weren’t meant for each other.” He sniffs a bit more, then meets my eyes. “But I didn’t fully comprehend that till I met you.”

“Aye?” I ask.

“Aye,” he says, and I smile.

Silence settles between us, but it’s different now. Full instead of empty.

“Look, Beau.” He hesitates, hands hovering like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch me. “I know you have no reason to trust me after everything I did, much less like me, much less…” He falters. “Love me.”

“Torin, I—”

“But I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you,” he says, his teary eyes darting everywhere but at my face. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you; it was that I didn’t trust myself. Not after—” He shakes his head, pushes through whatever is making him hold back, then looks directly at me. “I’ve missed you. Every day since I left, I’ve missed you.” His voice wavers, but he keeps going. “I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking for one; I’ll beg if I have to. I meant what I said. I always focus on the negative, live in the worst moments of the past, and miss the beauty in the present. But I want to change, prioritize the good things.” He looks directly at me now. “And that’s you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You checked off every item on The List and added more. I want to be with you, Beau. We can start over—from the very beginning—if that’s what you need. And I know that—”

I put a finger to his lips.

“Torin,” I say, and make sure he’s looking at me. “Stop haverin’. And kiss me already.”

It takes him a second, like he doesn’t quite believe me, then a smile spreads across his face. He’s still hesitant as he leans toward me, so I meet him halfway. Our mouths crash together, my hands fist the back of his shirt as I pull him in. His hands loop around the back of my neck, holding me close. Relief washes over me first, then heat. I didn’t think we’d ever do this again, and I can’t get enough of his mouth on mine, our bodies pressed close.

“Wait, wait,” he says, pulling back. I don’t let him get far.

“What?”

“You said you loved me…” His eyes search mine, still uncertain.

I nod. “Yeah. So?”

He looks at my chest and asks, quieter, “So… do you still? Love me?”

I guide his chin up and kiss him again, slower this time, deliberate. “Of course I do.”

“Even after all the things I said? Everything I did?”

“Yes, Torin.” Another kiss, softer. “I love you.”

His eyes fill. “I love you, too,” he whispers.

Then he kisses me and this time, he doesn’t hold back. Just want and need and relief. Just the two of us. Me and Torin.

When we finally come back down from our emotional high, he breaks the kiss and, panting, says, “I know we still have a lot to talk about, so call me when you get back to Texas, and we can figure everything out.”

“Torin,” I say, stealing another kiss, “I’m not going back to Texas today. Probably not tomorrow, either.”

“You’re staying in Scotland for the summer?” he asks, brow furrowed. “Just like that?”

“No, I’m still going to Texas, but you’re coming with me…” I say, “if you’re willing.”

“Really?” he asks, blinking. “Why?”

“Because my family needs to meet my boyfriend.” His eyes go wide, and I put my lips to his again.

“Because I love you,” I say.