One Year Later – New Year’s Eve
The countdown is less than twenty minutes away, but neither of us cares.
I’m curled up on Cal’s couch in one of his Vipers hoodies, my legs draped over his lap, toes nestled in the fuzzy socks he put in my stocking.
A movie flickers in the background—something vintage and snowy—but the volume is low and the glow from the TV mixes with the twinkle lights strung across his balcony windows.
It’s quiet.
It’s perfect.
He brushes his palm along my shin absently, slow and warm and familiar. The kind of touch that doesn’t demand anything. The kind that says I know you. I choose you.
God, I love this man.
A year ago, I barely had the courage to tell him that. A year ago, I stood outside The Pit with frozen fingers and a heart full of hope and panic and please let him still want me.
Now he makes me coffee without asking and puts away the dishes I forget about. We haven’t labeled it—we haven’t needed to. Whatever we are, it’s real.
And mine.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says, his voice thick and scratchy from the cocoa he downed too fast.
I shift enough to look at him. “Just thinking about last year.”
He smiles, but it’s lopsided. Nervous. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I tug the sleeve over my hand, pressing my fingers into the worn cotton. “I was terrified.”
He tilts his head, watching me.
“Terrified of what it might mean to ask for more,” I whisper. “Of wanting something I couldn’t control.”
Cal doesn’t say anything. He just sets down his mug, gently lifts my legs from his lap, and stands.
“What are you—”
“I don’t want to wait until midnight,” he says, cutting me off softly.
The air in the room stills.
My breath snags as he reaches behind the couch cushion and pulls out a small velvet box. My heart immediately flips, stutters, then slams into a full gallop.
“Cal—”
“I’ve been carrying this around for two weeks. Waiting for the right moment. But we both know… life doesn’t always give us perfect timing.” His voice is steady, but I can see the tremble in his fingers. “So I figured I’d stop waiting.”
He drops to one knee.
My hand flies to my mouth.
“I used to hate New Year’s,” he says, staring up at me with those storm-gray eyes that unraveled me from day one. “It meant change. It meant pretending to be excited about things that never felt like mine. Until you.”
My chest aches so hard I can’t speak.
“You made me believe in the magic again. You made this apartment feel like home. You gave me a reason to look forward instead of back. Noelle… I love you. I want forever with you.”
The box opens.
The ring catches the light.
I choke on a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Marry me,” he says, quiet and sure. “Make me the luckiest man in the world.”
Tears burn behind my eyes as I drop to my knees and kiss him, hard, salty, messy.
“Yes,” I whisper against his lips. “Yes. A million times, yes.”
His arms crush around me, and the box falls somewhere between us, forgotten. I don’t even care about the ring.
I just care about the man in front of me—the one who loved me before I was ready, who waited without pushing, who sees every vulnerable piece of me and calls it his favorite.
We’re still wrapped around each other when the fireworks begin outside the balcony windows, the boom echoing through the glass. Cal cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone as he leans in and kisses me again.
And again.
The clock ticks midnight, but I barely notice. All I hear is the thrum of his heart against mine.
He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Same time next year?”
I smile through tears, forehead resting against his. “Next year. Every year. Forever.”
