As I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of Fergus’s car, I rack my brain trying to figure out why we’re at Connelly’s Pub. We’ve been here before—in fact, we were here exactly two weeks ago tonight for Hollie’s birthday celebration—but I can’t imagine what we’re doing here tonight.
“We’re upstairs,” Fergus says when we enter the restaurant section downstairs. We climb the stairs and Fergus guides me toward the back room where we had Hollie’s party.
My steps slow as we approach the door, and my heart knocks around painfully in my chest. I have sudden visions of people popping out and yelling ‘Surprise!’ when we enter. Surely Fergus knows me better than that.
Fergus grips my hand, stopping me before we reach the door. “I was able to arrange something special that I had in mind, but I couldn’t book the room for a private party on such short notice. I’ve invited a few people, but other patrons will likely come and go throughout the evening. I know you’re not a fan of crowds or too much noise, so if it ever becomes too much and you need a moment alone or even want to leave, you can tell me, okay?”
God, this man. This incredible, thoughtful man. How did I get so lucky to have him in my life? Gestures like that make me feel as if some of the long-broken pieces inside me are stitching themselves back together. I press my lips together and nod, afraid to speak and risk blurting out something like ‘I love you’.
Fergus squeezes my hand and then laces his fingers with mine before leading me into the back room. I don’t recognize the few people milling around the dart board, drinking pints of beer. My heart surges when Fergus points to the other side of the room, where Evie, Stella, Wesley, and Leland are crowded around a large table. They stand when they see us, and I take in what they’re wearing: a variety of ‘I Heart New York’ merch, from hats to t-shirts to pins.
“What—” I sputter around a laugh.
“I know New Year’s Eve isn’t technically ’til tomorrow, but since you can’t be in New York City, I thought I’d bring NYC to you,” Fergus says. “I got the idea from the British-themed tea party the girls organized for Hollie last month.”
Evie reaches us first. “Happy almost birthday and almost New Year!” she says, giving me a tight one-armed hug. When she releases me, she hands me a red t-shirt and places a Statue of Liberty crown on my head. The others greet Fergus and me with hugs, and then I pull the t-shirt on over my long-sleeved top. It features a pattern with iconic New York City landmarks, food, and more.
“A few other people will be coming in a bit,” Fergus says, handing me a large, thick card. “Your friends can only stay for an hour or so, so I thought we’d start with dinner and then go from there.”
The card in my hand is a hand-written menu in what I recognize as Fergus’s neat handwriting. Scrawled across the top is: Lulu and Fergus’s New Year’s Eve in New York City, and underneath is a list of food including Waldorf salad, thin crust pizza, jumbo hot dogs, cheesecake, and frozen hot chocolate.
“I know it’s a bit strange and eclectic, but—”
Before Fergus can get the rest of the sentence out, I throw my arms around him. He stumbles back, chuckling against my ear as he wraps his arms around me so tightly my feet nearly leave the floor. I close my eyes and enjoy the light, airy feeling overtaking my body. When I open my eyes, I catch Evie’s gleeful gaze over Fergus’s shoulder, and notice Stella taking a surreptitious picture of us on her phone.
I release Fergus and step back, straightening my crown. “I feel like I’ve been thanking you non-stop all week and here I am thanking you again. This is amazing, Fergus.”
The six of us crowd around the table, and two servers bring out the salads. The bartender comes over with two pitchers of Big Apple Martinis—one alcoholic and one not.
Fergus leans in close to me, his breath warm on my face. “I asked them to do a mocktail version in case you’d prefer that.”
Once again, Fergus’s thoughtfulness astounds me. I only drink alcohol occasionally, and rarely in public. I don’t mind the faintest hint of a pleasant buzz if I’m somewhere safe with people I trust, but anything more than that feels too out of control, which means the gremlins take over.
Hugh and Ivy arrive as we’re about to have dessert. Fergus goes to get extra chairs so they can join us, and Ivy says hello to everyone before slipping into Fergus’s vacated seat beside me. At Fergus’s mock glare, Ivy simply grins at him and shrugs, so he drops into a chair between Hugh and Wesley.
“This is so great,” Ivy says, glancing at my t-shirt and crown before scanning the menu that’s propped in the center of the table. “The MacKinnon men were certainly born with a strong romance gene.”
One of the servers arrives with dessert at that moment, saving me from having to formulate a response. There’s a hush of appreciation as we all dig into our cheesecake, and then conversation starts up again and Ivy leans in to speak to me.
“I hope you don’t mind, but Fergus told me about your predicament with needing to move. Hugh and I have worked with Evie, so I know she’s a top-notch realtor, but I got thinking about some of the investment properties Hugh and I own. Fergus said you’re not interested in buying, but we have a few places with rental options or even rent to own. Maybe when you come in to chat with us about the new job, we could show you the properties and see if anything strikes your fancy.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you give me a job and help me find a place to live,” I say, squirming in discomfort at the thought.
Ivy cocks her head to the side, studying my face. “Why not?”
A simple question, spoken with curiosity rather than judgment. Why not? Why do I always automatically want to crawl out of my own skin and deflect when people offer to help me? Why am I so worried about putting people out even when they’re the ones who offer help?
“That would be great, actually,” I say. “Evie said she’d be happy to help me, but she’s been doing huge property deals lately and isn’t familiar with what’s available for rent right now.”
“Great! I’ll put together the options and we’ll talk about it in a week or two. Or I can email them to you so there’s less pressure to look at them, and then we can talk about them.” She takes a huge bite of her cheesecake and shimmies her shoulders, making little hums of pleasure. “This cheesecake is amazing. Have you had the cheesecake cups Willow makes at Cravings? The pumpkin ones she had this fall were out of this world. And then she had a bunch of different flavors for Christmas…”
As Ivy waxes poetic about Willow’s cheesecake, I glance up to find Fergus watching me from across the table. My cheeks were already warm from the pleasure of Ivy’s easy kindness, but they heat further under Fergus’s affectionate expression. I lift my Big Apple Martini—or ‘fauxtini’ as Stella dubbed it—and salute him with it. He lifts his own drink and does the same, shooting me a wink that makes my body tingle from head to toe.
Shortly after we finish with dessert, Meredith shows up, along with Willow and her fiancé Jasper, plus Sylvie and Cole. We pull another table over and manage to cram everyone in. Fergus ends up back beside me, pressed close with his arm around me. The traditional Irish music that had been playing softly in the background changed to dance music and grew in volume as more people filtered into the room.
When someone suggests we head for the dance floor, Evie and Stella pull me aside to tell me they need to leave to get to the party they were invited to at a local art gallery.
“I feel so bad,” Stella says, gripping my hand tightly. She looks longingly toward the dance floor. “I hate to leave. Tonight has been a blast.”
“I’m glad you could be here for as long as you were,” I tell them. “And we’ll be together again tomorrow.”
Evie’s gaze sweeps over the dance floor before locking on mine. “Fergus has really pulled out all the stops, hasn’t he?”
“He has. This whole week.” I catch his eye where he’s standing with Hugh on the outskirts of the dance floor. We share what feels like a secret smile and then, with butterflies taking flight in my stomach, I turn back to my friends. “We’ve spent so much time together this week and really opened up to each other. I’m just…working on getting out of my own way.”
“Oh, Lulu.” Evie moves first and in the next second, I’m the filling in a hug sandwich between her and Stella. “You’re strong, you can do it. You deserve to be happy.”
“Fergus is a rare and wonderful find,” Stella says. “Don’t let him get away.”
Fergus is a rare and wonderful find. And if I can do what I said and get out of my own way, he could be my rare and wonderful find.
*****
“You all right?” Fergus asks, his lips brushing my ear and making me shiver.
The dance floor is getting crowded. I hadn’t minded much since Ivy, Hugh, Sylvie, and Cole had been dancing with us, which mostly blocked out the rest of the crowd. Ivy and Hugh left a while ago, though, and Sylvie and Cole have just gone to sit down and have a drink.
“I’m fine, thanks.” At least I am as long as I’m looking into Fergus’s beautiful moss-colored eyes.
Fergus takes my hand and guides me to a less crowded section of the dance floor. “Dancing is better in a group, don’t you think? I suppose it’s too much to expect a party like this to play a slow song or two. If Wesley were DJing, I’d put in a request.”
“Oh? What song would you request?” I ask.
Fergus tilts his head to the side as he thinks. We’re still on the dance floor, although we’ve stopped moving. We’re already standing close, but Fergus gently grips my shoulders and pulls me closer. “‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran.”
There’s no mistaking the love in Fergus’s steady gaze. It steals my breath and, for one shining moment, fills me to the brim with joy. And then that familiar uncertainty takes over, turning quickly to something akin to terror. Why, why, why am I like this?
A cheer goes up around the room, startling me so badly I jump and knock into Fergus. He puts his arm around my shoulder and turns me toward the small stage, where a beautiful redheaded woman is approaching the mic and waving at people.
“Good evening, everyone. We hope many of you will join us for our New Year’s Eve festivities tomorrow night, but we’re going to be ringing in the new year a bit early too. If I could direct your attention to the screen on the wall here, we’ll be starting the countdown in just a few seconds. Grab your partner, a friend, a drink, a noisemaker, or all of the above, and prepare for an early midnight!”
The screen flickers to life, showing the iconic multicolored Waterford crystal ball in Times Square. The countdown on the screen starts at sixty, and people around us call out the seconds as they decrease. A whole minute seems excessive when ten or even twenty seconds would suffice. But as I stare at the screen, I realize the images are changing to show a compilation of clips from different years in Times Square.
I turn to Fergus, who’s watching me with a small smile. “Did you do this?” I ask, and he nods. I’m vaguely aware of the volume around us increasing as people shout out the countdown numbers. The noise has drawn even more people into the room from the main part of the pub.
When the countdown hits one, people cheer and clap, yelling “Happy New Year!” as a shower of confetti rains down on us. Over Fergus’s shoulder, I see people hugging and kissing, while others belt out the lyrics to “Auld Lang Syne”, which is now blasting from the speakers.
A giddy laugh spills from my lips as I focus back on Fergus. He’s standing closer than he was before, and he flashes me a breathtaking smile. Someone knocks into him from behind, pushing him even closer. He grips my hips as he steadies us, and I brace myself with my hands flat on his chest. We’re jostled again by a passing couple, and this time I use the forward momentum to close the distance between us and plant my lips on Fergus’s.
My brain malfunctions the second our lips meet. I freeze in place, aware only of my fingers now clutching the front of Fergus’s shirt, his lips against mine…and the fact he also seems to be frozen. Embarrassment rushes through me, but my legs won’t listen to my brain’s signal to take a step back. It doesn’t matter anyway because in the next second, Fergus’s hands leave my hips to cup my face, and his lips move against mine.
The commotion of the room fades away, leaving the rest of my senses heightened. Fergus tastes like the whisky he was drinking, sweet and spicy with a hint of vanilla. His lips are soft and the pads of his thumbs are rough as they sweep over my cheeks. His scent wraps around me, familiar and comforting, yet exhilarating.
Loud music infiltrates my consciousness. I’m suddenly aware of everything around me all at once: the room full of people standing in clusters, laughing and talking and dancing; “New York, New York” by Frank Sinatra blaring from the speakers; and Fergus, who releases me slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers trailing down my cheeks and jaw before dropping to my shoulders.
He looks as stunned as I feel. I imagine us as mirror images with wide eyes and kiss-reddened lips. If the familiar prickling heat in my cheeks is any indication, my lips aren’t the only things that are red.
Fergus opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it, blurting, “I have to go. I’m sorry. The crowd is becoming too much for me, and I really should get a few things ready for tomorrow night.” I move back, needing to put distance between us. A lot of distance. Several blocks would be good.
Fergus looks as if he’s going to attempt to speak again, but I don’t give him a chance before I continue babbling. “This has been the most incredible night, Fergus. It’s so much better than actually going to New York City because, let’s face it, if the crowd in here is getting to me, I’d be a nervous wreck in Times Square. You’re so thoughtful and wonderful and…and this has been so perfect. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Louisa.” Fergus’s voice is calm and quiet with a hint of concern. He reaches for me, but I pretend not to see him as I shift to adjust my Statue of Liberty crown, putting a bit more space between us. Somehow, I hear his quiet sigh, despite the noise in the room. “At least let me take you home.”
The words are barely out before a man approaches Fergus and claps him on the shoulder. He’s got a lopsided smile, slightly glassy eyes, and lipstick marks on his cheeks and neck. “Heyyy, I hear you’re the one we have to thank for the early New Year’s celebration. That was epic, man.”
With Fergus’s attention on the drunk guy, my gaze frantically sweeps the room. When it lands on Sylvie and Cole, who are getting up from their table and collecting their jackets, I know I have my out. Fergus has been flicking glances my way as the guy talks to him—or rather, at him, since Fergus hasn’t managed to get a word in—and he must see I’m waiting to speak because he asks the man to hold on a second.
“Why don’t you stay and enjoy the festivities,” I say. “Sylvie and Cole are leaving and Sylvie lives near me, so I could get them to drop me at home.”
Fergus’s eyes narrow slightly, his brows drawing together in a deep V. He knows as well as I do that I’m trying to bolt right now. Part of me hopes he’ll let me, while the other part hopes he’ll ask me to stay or insist on taking me home himself. That twisted thinking alone is proof I need to get out of here.
Finally, he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “Whatever you want,” he says, his tone resigned. “We do need to talk, though, Lulu.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. Relief rushes through me when I realize Sylvie and Cole are walking this way. I had visions of chasing them out of the room and begging them to drive me home. When my gaze swings back to Fergus, my heart drops at the varied emotions swirling in his eyes. I don’t think I’m imagining the disappointment, but there’s affection there too and maybe even longing. It makes my heart lodge in my throat and nerves flare in my belly. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I need some time to think. Are you upset?”
“No, no, ’course not, love. I understand.” His warm hand settles once more on my shoulder. “Will you text me when you get home so I know you got there all right?”
“I will. Thanks again, Fergus. I had a blast tonight.”
His grip on my shoulder tightens and he pulls me forward, enveloping me in a tight hug. I close my eyes and press my face into his shoulder, wishing the world would fade away the way it did when we kissed. No such luck.
The next few minutes are a blur. Sylvie and Cole are hovering nearby when Fergus releases me. They thank him for inviting them and tell him what a great time they had tonight. I ask if they’d mind giving me a ride home, and then before I know it, we’re in the parking lot of Connelly’s and I’m sucking in giant gulps of frosty air.
Cole goes ahead to start the car while Sylvie and I trail behind. She links her arm through mine and bumps me with her shoulder.
“I can’t believe Fergus arranged all that for you tonight. How utterly romantic.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh, her breath misting in the air in front of us. “Between this and Hollie going off to London with Spencer, I think it’s got Cole’s mental cogs churning.”
“Are you expecting a grand romantic gesture in your near future?”
Sylvie grins, tightening her hold on me. “Cole’s always talking about the trips he’s taken to Europe, and how he wants to show me this place or that. When Hollie took off with Spencer, I may have dropped a hint or five about how I think we should take a trip together in the spring.”
“They were very subtle hints, as I’m sure you can imagine,” Cole says as we approach the car. He opens the passenger side door for Sylvie, kissing her as she shifts past him to climb in. He opens my door next. “Maybe I should pick Fergus’s brain about Scotland. I hear it’s beautiful in the spring.”
“Maybe you two could come with us!” Sylvie says, twisting around to look at me as I drop like a stone into the backseat.
“Heh. Maybe.” The thought has my heart squeezing its way into my windpipe again. I wish I were as brave as my friends have been, leaping head first into relationships. I’ve watched every single one of my closest friends fall in love over the last few months. I’m genuinely happy for them—they’ve each found a partner who suits them perfectly—but there’s an underlying current of envy too. I want what they have and I feel ridiculous because I know I could have it if I stopped being so afraid.
I could call Fergus when I get home and tell him I’m ready to see where things might go between us. He’d likely show up at my doorstep and sweep me off my feet, literally and metaphorically. It should be so easy…‘should’ being the operative word. My anxiety makes me fearful and indecisive; it’s what I hate most about the persistent little gremlins in my head.
I listen to Sylvie and Cole’s comfortable, jokey chatter on the short drive home. Sylvie hops out when we arrive, hugging me goodbye and telling me how much they’re looking forward to the party tomorrow night. I text Fergus on my way up to the apartment to let him know I got home safely and thank him again for tonight.
He doesn’t reply immediately like I expect him to, so I go to my room to change my clothes. Hijinx lifts his head and meows at me from where he’s curled up on my bed. Once I’ve got my pajamas on, I scoop him up and take him with me to the living room. I settle on the couch and he snuggles against my chest with his head tucked under my chin. His rumbling purr starts up and within minutes I can feel my heart rate slow for the first time all night.
Fergus still hasn’t replied to my text. Needing a distraction, I turn on the TV and choose a movie at random. I’m only half paying attention to what’s happening on screen because I keep glancing at my phone. What if tonight showed Fergus the very thing I’ve been worried about all along: that being with me is too difficult, too much work. That I’ll likely always have complicated emotions and fears that hold me back. Can I even have a healthy relationship with those things standing in my way?
Hijinx lifts his head and meets my eyes. He meows at me, and it sounds like a question. He’s probably wondering the same thing I am: what is wrong with you, lady?
I glance at my phone again just as the digital clock clicks over to midnight. I think that’s my sign that it’s time to call it a day. I’m reaching for the phone when it rings, startling me. I expect it to finally be Fergus replying to me, but Hollie’s name and picture flash across the screen instead, so I swipe to answer immediately.
Hollie’s smiling face fills the screen. “Happy birthday, my beautiful best friend!”
The wave of emotion that’s been building since Fergus and I kissed reaches a crest, causing my eyes to fill with tears. I let out a shaky laugh and squint at the screen, recognizing the living room of Spencer’s apartment in the background. “Isn’t it, like, five in the morning there?”
“It is. Remember I told you I’d call you at midnight on your birthday, and I always keep my promises. Spencer wasn’t thrilled when my alarm went off, but when he woke up enough to remember why I’d set it in the first place, he said to wish you a happy birthday and give you his love.”
“Aww, tell him thanks. And thank you. You’re the best.” My voice wavers.
“Is everything okay? How did tonight go?”
I blow out a noisy breath. “Tonight was wonderful. But I’m afraid I might have colossally messed things up with Fergus.” I tell Hollie all about Fergus bringing me a New York City New Year’s Eve, and how I ran away after our kiss. “What do I do now? What if I messed everything up tonight by running out?”
“You didn’t,” Hollie says firmly. “Trust me. Fergus knows how your anxiety can take over, plus he likes you way too much to let something like that faze him. You’ll see him tomorrow and sort things out.”
“That’s assuming I can work up the courage to be alone with him again,” I say. “And to not only find the right words, but actually say them without chickening out.”
Hollie shakes her head. “Fergus gets you, Lulu. He likes you for you, without wanting to change you or expecting more than you can give.”
“How can you be sure? How can I be sure? What if—”
“No,” Hollie says, her tone firm once more. “We’re not playing the what if game. That’s a gremlin game and you don’t play gremlin games, remember?”
“You’re right. No gremlin games.”
“Just be honest with him, always,” Hollie says. “Tell him how you feel, tell him when you’re nervous, tell him when you need to take things slow. Like I said earlier tonight, I know how scary it can be to open your heart and let someone new in, but I also know it’s worth it when it’s the right person.”
“And you think Fergus is the right person for me?”
“Louisa. Do you really need me to answer that?”
I laugh under my breath. “I guess not. Thank you for calling, Hols. You’re still having fun in London?”
“We’re having the best time,” she says, glancing off to the side, where I imagine Spencer is waiting for her. “I wish I could be there for your birthday and the party, though.”
“Don’t worry about that. You two enjoy every moment of your adventure. We’ll celebrate when you get back.”
“Count on it. I just have one question before I go.”
“Shoot.”
“Is that a cat on your chest or is my sleep-fuzzed brain making me imagine things?”
I burst out laughing, causing Hijinx to startle and let out an indignant squawk. He gives me what I can only describe as a dirty look before shifting to curl up in my lap with his back to me. “Hollie, meet Hijinx. It’s a long story.”
Hollie laughs and shakes her head. “One I can’t wait to hear.”
We say a drawn-out goodbye with lots of air kisses and ‘I love yous’. When we finally hang up, there’s a text from Fergus; the time stamp is from 12:01, likely seconds after Hollie called.
Happy birthday, my darling Louisa. I hope all your dreams come true this year, and I hope I get to be part of them in some way. xx
I read the text over and over, thinking about what Hollie said: be honest, always. There are no lines to read between or subtext in Fergus’s message. It’s all right there in a few short sentences, plain as day.
I grab my purse and pull out my birthday bucket list. I cross off the one about celebrating New Year’s Eve in New York City. I scan all the crossed-off items, plus the two that are yet to be completed. My eyes linger on ‘Do something brave’. Despite the vague nature of that one, I was being honest when I told Fergus my goal was to get a job outside the house. We crossed that one off after we met with Hugh and Ivy. Even though we’ve gotten creative with the other things on the list, if I’m honest, crossing that one off felt like cheating. I didn’t take the initiative to meet with Hugh, apply for a job, or have an interview. Thanks to Fergus, the opportunity fell into my lap. I’m grateful and I still have to follow up on my own in a few weeks, but it doesn’t feel like I did anything particularly brave.
I still have one more day to cross items off the list. Despite having a job in mind when I added ‘Do something brave’, I left it vague because I was certain I’d know when I did something that was worthy of that sense of accomplishment. It could be something heroic or it could be quiet bravery, the kind required nearly every day when you live with anxiety.
I place the paper and my trusty red pen on the coffee table, ready and determined to cross off the remaining items before midnight tomorrow.