A Stupid New Year's Love Story

Ten.

So this is how it ends?

Nine.

At the stroke of midnight, the illusion will shatter, and I’ll be turned back into a pumpkin. 

Eight.

That’s fine. Go ahead and laugh. 

Seven.

Just keep on dancing and drinking and having a grand old time.

Six.

Oh, another glass of champagne? Sure, why not.

Five.

None of this will matter in about five more seconds, anyway.

Four.

Go on, find your partners. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on your midnight kiss.

Three.

No need to worry about me.

Two.

I have my drink to keep me company.

One.

This is fine. I’m fine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Imagine my surprise when I wake up on New Year's Day to find that I am, in fact, not a pumpkin. 

Bummer.

Nothing exciting ever happens to me. 

Actually, that’s a lie. Yesterday, I did find a ring in my champagne.

But it wasn’t meant for me. Turns out, it was an accident. 

I don’t know why I was so disappointed. I’ve been single since the dawn of time, so honestly, I should have been alarmed at the prospect of a stranger proposing to me. 

What’s wrong with me?

I spent the rest of the night hoping that prince charming would come sweep me off my feet. 

Eye roll.

But it was New Year’s Eve. It’s supposed to be magical. Right? Everyone is looking forward to new beginnings and a fresh start. The clock literally resets at midnight, wiping the slate clean. 

Ugh. Do you hear me? How pathetic is that?

But there’s no time to dwell on my sad excuse for a love life because there’s someone knocking at my door. At eight A.M. On New Year’s Day. 

The audacity. 

If I cover myself with my blankets, I can just pretend I’m not here. 

Except they won’t stop knocking. 

How am I supposed to be invisible if they won’t go away?

Now that I think about it…maybe this is why I never have a date.

Ugh.

Crawling out of bed, I stuff my feet into my fuzzy, pink slippers and pull on my matching robe. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I yell in the direction of the front door. 

I rip open the door, and my jaw hits the floor. Standing in front of me is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

And I don’t say that lightly. I’m dead serious. My heart even does a literal flip-flop in my chest. 

The dark-haired Adonis is towering over me, holding a tray of food and a bouquet of flowers, and he's wearing a boyishly handsome grin on his stupid face. 

“Happy New Year, bug! I thought you and I could do breakfast in bed.” With a quick kiss on the top of my head, he pushes his way past me, heading for the kitchen like he owns the place. 

I should scream, right? Call 9-1-1? Run? Something?

That’s what any person in their right mind would do.

But do you think that’s what I’m going to do?

I would laugh at the idea, but I seem to be frozen to the spot. 

“Well, aren’t you coming, silly goose?” He’s busy sorting through my kitchen, seeming to know exactly where everything is placed. 

Picking my jaw up off the floor, I turn to look at the apartment number on my door. You know, just to double-check.

14-A.

Yeah, this is definitely my apartment. 

And that is definitely a strange man in my kitchen.

I mean, honestly, what do I do with that? 

Popping his head up above the counter, he takes a look at what I’m sure is the horrified expression on my face and crosses the room. With a peck on the cheek, he wraps his obscenely strong arm around my shoulders and closes the door. “You’re going to let a stranger in if you keep standing there with the door open.”

The irony. 

He chuckles, gives me a little poke on the nose, and steers me back to the bedroom. 

And I let him. I let him tuck me back into bed, plant another kiss on the top of my head, and hand me the remote before he returns to the kitchen.

What the heck is happening?

I’m still staring dumbstruck at the bedroom door when he returns with an arrangement of food and some hot coffee. Setting the tray on my lap, he crawls into bed next to me and makes himself nice and comfortable. He reaches up, and with a feather-light touch under my chin, he tips my head toward him and plants a whisper of a kiss to my lips. “You look absolutely stunning today.”

Wow. Literal fireworks.

I don’t know who this strange man is, but he can stay for as long as he’d like. 

With a smile, he turns his attention to the plate of bacon. Taking a bite, he knits his eyebrows at the TV. “Weren’t you going to pick a movie for us to watch?”

I didn’t know I was supposed to. Is that something most people do when they have a stranger in their bed, feeding them breakfast? 

Can I get a copy of the instructions, please?

He takes the remote out of my hand and flips through the countless streaming services until he finds it. “There. Your favorite movie.” He seems proud of himself, and he settles back into the bed with his coffee. Like this is something we do together all the time.

He knows my favorite movie. 

A blush is crawling up my stupid cheeks.

That’s it. It’s official. I’m going crazy. 

I must be nuts to have forgotten him. I think I would remember a face that handsome. 

We’re now ten minutes into the movie, and I still haven’t touched my breakfast. 

He looks at me with a worried expression on his face. “Are you feeling okay, bug? You haven’t said a word, and you haven’t touched your breakfast. And I made all your favorites.”

Oh great, I hurt his feelings. 

Not sure why I care. 

“I’m fine.” Never mind the fact that it sounds like I’m choking on my words. I take a sip of my coffee—my perfectly made coffee—and clear my throat. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

He tilts his head at me, confusion pooling in those deep brown eyes. “But I texted you at midnight.”

I don’t remember anything after midnight.

I reach for my phone. Sure enough, the first text is from someone named “Garrett.”

I don’t know a Garrett.

Hey sweetheart, sorry I couldn’t make it back in time for NYE. But I’ll make it up to you in the morning. How does breakfast in bed sound?

I never replied.

Awful presumptuous for him to assume I would want breakfast in bed after he clearly stood me up for New Year’s Eve.

Never mind the fact that I DON’T KNOW HIM!

I let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Must have fallen asleep.”

More like fell into a wormhole. 

That must be it. It’s honestly the only logical explanation.

His face softens, and he gives me a quick kiss. “All is forgiven.”

I eat a few bites of my waffles before falling asleep again with my head on his shoulder.

When I wake, I find myself tucked snuggly in my blankets. The credits are rolling on the TV, and I can hear him washing the dishes in the kitchen. 

He’s still here. 

He didn’t disappear when I woke up. 

So I guess I’m still dreaming. 

Yep. That’s it. Still dreaming. 

Or maybe it’s a coma. 

Either way, I’m not letting a good dream go to waste. 

Yawning, I crawl out of bed and meander out to the kitchen to see him scrubbing plates, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms. 

I never knew washing the dishes could look so good.

Looking up, he meets my gaze and flashes a stunning smile in my direction. After placing the last plate back on the shelf, he dries his hands and walks over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. Pulling me closer, he kisses me again, something deep and needy. Like he hasn’t kissed me in a while.

When he pulls away, my lips are tingling. And I can’t catch my stupid breath. 

I can die happy now.

“Are you ready for your Christmas present?” He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I figured since I was away for Christmas, we could do it today.” 

I panic.

I don’t have a present for him. 

Why would I buy a present for someone I don’t know?

“I don’t have anything for you.” I find myself afraid to disappoint him.

“Aren’t you funny.” He laughs. “I saw my name on the only present left under your tree.”

I whip my head around. Sure enough, there’s one present left under the small tree in the corner of the living room. 

“Can’t get anything by you.” I swat him playfully on the chest. 

I wonder what I bought him.

We cross the room, and he hands me a small present wrapped in green paper, tied with a silver bow. Then he bends down and picks his present out from under the tree. 

“You go first,” I say, staring at him awkwardly. 

I’m just as surprised as he is to find that I bought him a fancy watch. 

I have good taste. 

He fastens the watch around his wrist, then looks at me expectantly. 

I guess it’s my turn. 

I untie the delicate bow and tear the paper away, letting it fall to the floor, my eyes now focused on the black, velvet box sitting in my hand.

When I look back at him, I find him down on one knee. 

Picking the box out of my hands, he opens it to reveal a pear-shaped emerald surrounded by an elegant halo of diamonds on a gold band. 

This man is crazy.

I don’t even know him. 

“Jessie, I’ve known you would one day be my wife since the moment I first laid eyes on you. And every day since has just reaffirmed that. I’ve never had a doubt.”

Are you serious?

My eyes are actually welling up with tears.

“Will you marry me?” He chokes on the last few words.

This stupid man is down on his stupid knee, holding the stupidest—and most stunning—ring I’ve ever seen in my stupid life. 

Before I answer, I have to pinch myself.

There’s no way this isn’t a dream. 

It has to be a dream. 

I close my eyes as the pain pierces my skin. But when I open them again, I find him still down on one knee, waiting for my answer. 

All I’ve ever wanted is my own stupid love story. 

But I’ve never had a man so much as glance in my direction. And long ago, I realized that happily ever afters were only for stupid princesses in stupid fairytales. 

Now, there is a stupid man at my feet, offering me everything I ever wanted. 

Never mind the fact that I still don’t know who he is. 

That’s not important. 

He’s looking at me like I hung the moon and stars. Like I’m the very air he breathes. Like I’m the reason his heart beats. 

And every other stupid, sappy cliché in the book.

What the heck happened last night?

Maybe I got hit on the head. 

Maybe I fell down the steps.

Maybe the world blew up.

Maybe I’m dead.

Suddenly, I don’t care. 

I finally have someone who loves me. Someone who is offering me my happily ever after. 

And something in my soul is calling out to him in return.

Silent tears fall down my face, and I know what my answer is. 

I start nodding, holding my hand out so he can slip the ring on my finger. And when I speak, my voice is barely a whisper. 

“Yes.”