chapter twenty-nine

t w e n t y - n i n e

*

I've lost Casper. He's literally nowhere to be found, and I swear I've searched every room of my sister's deceptively large house. One minute he was schmoozing someone I don't even know, one of India's friends I guess, and in the time it took me to find a refill of prosecco, he vanished. I spent some time with my sisters, and my dad gave me a soppy talk

Now I have two glasses of wine and no boyfriend, and another of India's friends – or perhaps a husband of a friend, more likely – is giving me a weird look. What was originally going to be a family New Year's Eve party has ended up being quite a big event, her house opened up to friends and family alike, and after twenty minutes I wanted to write down all of my information on a piece of paper pinned to my chest.

By now, I'm pretty sure everyone knows who I am – sister number three, yes my name really is Bethlehem – and what I do, where I live, who I'm with. Except I'm not with Casper, because he's gone and done a disappearing act at twenty to midnight.

He has made himself right at home with my family, effortlessly flitting between my parents and my sisters and charming the socks off all of them. We got here hours ago, in plenty of time for a family supper before everyone else started arriving for the party to celebrate the end of another year, and I watched in awe as Casper managed to make my dad laugh with dumb legal jokes that he must have googled before we got here.

"Beth!" Mum calls out, swooping into the hall with a tipsy flourish, her scarf trailing behind her. "How are you, darling? I feel like I've hardly seen you all night!"

"Hey, Mum. It's probably been an hour," I say with a chuckle. She has a fresh glass in her hand, drinking her Buck's Fizz like it's straight orange juice. "Have you seen Cas anywhere?"

She taps her chin and pouts, all of her movements exaggerated when she's had a few, and the furrow above her brows deepens in thought. "He was eating cocktail sausages last I saw. Hungry little boy."

I snort. "Hardly a little boy, Mum."

She laughs like a teenager, and before she has time to make an inappropriate comment, I squeeze her shoulders and head back to the kitchen.

How the hell does my sister live in a place like this? The rooms are huge squares, bustling with people, and a long garden slopes down into an orchard before a line of tall evergreens. She and her husband must make more than I thought. Or, more likely, she doesn't spend half her pay check in cafes. I daren't check my bank for how much a month I put down on coffee.

"Hey, Bee!" comes a voice from the other side of the kitchen. Juneau pops up with a plate full of finger food, half a vegan cocktail sausage on a stick in her hand. All the food tonight is vegan, courtesy of one of India's many useful friends, and I'm pleasantly surprised.

"What's up, Junie?" I ask, as I scour the room and find no sign of my boyfriend.

"Where's your arm candy gone?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Juneau frowns. "I don't have any arm candy, unfortunately. I seem to be going through a savoury spell."

"I meant, have you seen Cas anywhere?"

"Oh." She laughs. She's tipsy too. "Does he smoke? If he does, there's a bunch of vegan smokers outside. Or maybe they're vapers. Or juulers. For all I know, it's a big pot circle." With another laugh, she throws out her hands. "I don't know, Busy Bee. Better find him, though, or you'll end up having to kiss your poor lonely sister at midnight."

I pull her in for a hug and kiss her cheek, then the other. "There you go. Two kisses for good luck. If you're quick, I've seen a couple of single blokes around here." Wiggling my eyebrows at her, I say, "I think Indy might be trying to set you up. You go and find Derek, and I'll continue my hunt for Cas."

"Best of luck, my intrepid warrior sister." She gives me finger guns and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. "I believe in you and your ability to track down your wandering man. He may also be hiding in the bathroom – I saw him spit out one of these weird not-sausages earlier."

I take one off her plate. It's not bad, but Casper's a bit of a carnivore.

The bathroom's at the other end of the house, through two rooms teeming with people. None of them look like Casper. Amidst my family and India's surprisingly white friendship group, he should be easy to spot, but all I see are a bunch of blondes and pale brunettes and grey-haired sexagenarians. There is an abandoned sausage in the bathroom, but no sign of my boyfriend.

I resort to sending him a text.

ME: where've you got to?? im trying to avoid spending too much time with strangers and ive totally lost you

One grey tick, then two. But they don't turn blue. Wherever he is, he's not on his phone, or he's not checking his messages. Stifling a yawn as the long day draws to an end, after we got up early to make sure we weren't caught out by the weather on the way over here, I head to the back garden where steam from hot breath mixes with smoke from burning cigarettes.

It's almost midnight. Almost time to watch the ridiculous show of fireworks and kiss my boyfriend and start the new year in his arms, if only I can find him, before I can finally crash in a strange bed in my sister's house. I'm probably sober enough to drive, but I wouldn't risk it, and it's probably two hours to home from here.

It's cold as fuck outside, the snow crisping over in the sub-zero temperatures, but there's a congregation huddled on the porch in jackets, clinking glasses and passing joints. I don't expect to see Casper out here but ... there he is. Found him, at last.

"Bethlehem!" he cries out when he spots me too. He peels away from the group and clumsily crashes his way over to me, and I recognise that glassy look in his eyes and the skunky scent he wafts over with him.

"There you are, my little pot head," I say with a grin, cupping his cold cheeks. "I've been searching for you."

"I was totally looking for you but I couldn't find you anywhere and your sister, one of them, I don't know which one, she said you don't like pot and you don't smoke and one of the guys offered me a joint." He grins so wide that it looks painful, showing off most of his teeth and pushing lines around his eyes. "I've never done it bef- oh, no, I've done it before but only once when I was seventeen and I wanted to try it again. You don't mind, do you?"

"I don't mind. Are you having fun out here?"

"Lots. But I'm so fucking cold, I think I'm going to lose my balls. So, so cold. They're like icy gobstoppers. Can we go inside? I really don't want to lose my balls." He looks so sad all of a sudden, his eyebrows lifting and pulling together. "No balls, no babies, and I want some babies one day. Need to defrost my balls. I think they've hidden. Yup, yup, they've crawled right back into my body."

When he cups his hands over his crotch, I loop my arm through the crook of his elbow and lead him back into the warm house, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on his face as he panics about the state of his testicles.

"Will you still love me if I have disappearing frozen balls?" He suddenly turns around and clutches my elbows. I kiss his chilly nose.

"I'll still love you. But don't worry. I'm sure your balls haven't gone anywhere," I say, unable to stop grinning. His expression softens.

"Okay. Good. Because I love you so fucking much, Bethlehem King." He takes my cheeks in his hands and presses his nose to mine so my glasses dig into my brows. "You are an angel. My beautiful angel. I love you to the moon and back, and I know I'm a lil bit crossfaded right now but I am one hundred and twelve percent sincere, Beth. Even though you tease me about my name, and even though you like Christmas more than you like me."

I kiss him, grinning against his lips, and I say, "I think I might even like you a little bit more."

Casper gasps. "Careful, don't go saying things you can't possibly mean."

"Maybe I do mean it."

He plants a hand over his chest and cocks his head, dark eyes fixed on me, scanning my face. I don't break eye contact. His smile grows. He drops his other hand from my cheek to my shoulder, his fingers crawling up to cup my neck as he goes all soft and gently pulls me in for a slow kiss.

When we pull apart, he nudges my cheek with his, his lips right by my ear when he whispers, "If you love me more than Christmas, then you'll be totally on board with birthdays abroad next year." His eyes drop to his watch. "Ooh. Almost this year."

I follow his gaze. It's almost midnight. Almost time to gather in the sitting room, crushed amongst family and friends and the waifs and strays my sister has collected over the years. Almost time to start a brand new year with a man I'm just a little bit crazy about.

*

It's so weird, isn't it? The whole new year debacle. Someone decided that the thirty-first of December marked the final day of the year – something that isn't even globally accepted or followed – and that at midnight, we start a brand new set of three hundred and sixty-five days. But really, it's just another day. Just another day like any other. It's an arbitrary process, but I'm not going to pretend I don't buy into the whole shebang.

I'm a sucker for arbitrary celebrations. I love the pointless pomp, an excuse to see most of my family all together and to make resolutions I won't keep, and to figuratively wipe the slate clean when the clock ticks down and the bell chimes.

The very second that we leave twenty nineteen behind and dive headfirst into a new decade with a leap year, Casper drapes his arms around my shoulders and takes my breath away when he kisses me. Fireworks explode all around, the TV showing the elaborate celebrations down in London in surround sound while my sister's neighbours set off their own shows. The black sky is illuminated, lit up in every colour of the rainbow, and even when I close my eyes, I see the sparks.

If the rest of this year is half as good as that single kiss, I think when our lips part, then we're in for a treat.

"So," I murmur, quietly enough that only Casper can hear me, "Christmas in New York, huh?"

"I knew you'd come around."

"I'll think about it."

His thumbs stroke my cheeks, pushing back into my hair, and he tilts my head down to kiss my forehead before his arms wrap around me in a snug embrace.

"Say cheese!" yells my mother, tipsily boogying on the spot and waving her phone around in the general direction of my boyfriend and me.

Casper slips into photo posing mode with ease, one arm around me as he flashes a beatific beam in my mother's direction. She fumbles about trying to open her camera app, and he squeezes my arm, slowly leaning closer to me until our cheeks are pressed together. Once Mum's satisfied with her picture, she goes around snapping more photos of the family, and several more of people I'm not sure she even knows, and Casper takes my hand to pull me out of the sitting room.

There's no-one in the kitchen, and no-one is going to be joining us because he nudges me up against the door his hands on my waist as he kisses me like we've never kissed before, like our whole lives have been leading up to this kiss. The kind of kiss that has me forgetting how to breathe, my lungs burning as I turn to putty at his touch.

Someone tries the door, the handle twisting against my back. I let out a giggle. Casper giggles too, like a little kid, and I hear a groan on the other side.

"No sex in my kitchen, please," comes India's voice. "I know you're in there, Beth. If you're fucking your boyfriend against the door, you're not allowed back."

"We're not fucking," I say, covering my mouth to stop a snort escaping.

"Not yet," Casper adds.

"Guys!" India yells, jiggling the handle and bumping the door open half an inch. "I swear to god, Be—"

I move to the side. She flies through the door, all set to yell at us, until she sees that we're fully clothed and keeping our hands to ourselves. Her ire fades, replaced by amusement when she clocks Casper's face.

"What?" He turns from her to me and back.

"You're like a couple of horny teenagers," India says, tutting, and she passes Casper a spoon to check his reflection. My lipstick is smeared all over his lips and around his mouth, a pinkish red that makes him look like he's got a nasty rash.

Nonchalant, he passes the spoon back, points at his mouth, and says, "This is a sign of a good time, my dear India. I don't know if you know this, but your sister is an exceptional kisser."

"Glad to know," she says, wearing a wry smile. "Happy New Year, you two."

She finds a couple of half empty bottles of prosecco and takes them through to the party. Casper and I stay in the kitchen.

"Hey, Beth?"

"Mmm?"

"I've thought of my resolution. This is the year of change. Big change, baby."

"As long as it doesn't involve joining the gym for couples' classes."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Not in a million years." His hands caress my hips. "I resolve to kiss you every single day"—he presses his lips to mine—"and to love you a little more, every single day."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I whisper, though my heart's racing.

"I don't think I'll have any trouble keeping those promises," he says, brushing his thumb over my lips, "and it starts right now. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I already love you more than yesterday. And I know that tomorrow I'll love you more than I love you today."

"Even if I say that we'll never go away for Christmas?"

He pulls away, slow and subtle, and glances at his watch. "I think it's early enough that I can still change my resolution without repercussions," he murmurs.

I dig into my pockets and pull out a tightly folded five pound note, and I press it into his hand.

"What's this for?" He unfolds it, deep creases lingering in the plastic.

"My resolution."

"Huh?"

"If we're going to go away, we're going to have to save. Consider that my first deposit."

He stares at the note and slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine. "Damn."

"What?"

"I already love you more than I did five minutes ago."

*

only one more chapter to go, and then this story is over at long last - only two months later than i wanted to have it done by!