Chapter 6

 Chapter Six:  New Year’s Eve & The New Year / The Start

Happy New Year!

The countdown glittered across the television screen, its glow bouncing off champagne flutes and sequins and smiling faces. The party wasn’t loud, but it was lively — a pleasant hum of laughter and clinking glasses. Mark and Kimmy stood just off to the side, not apart from the room, but apart from everyone else in it, tethered by the certainty of their joined hands. He watched her more than the TV. She watched him more than the clock. Ten. Nine. Eight. Her thumb brushed the back of his hand. His breath caught like it was the first time all over again. Seven. Six. Five. I can’t believe this is my life, she thought. I can’t believe I get to be in it, he thought. Four. Three. Two. Their eyes held. One. “Happy New Year,” they said together, the room erupting around them, the fireworks outside like applause. Kimmy tugged him toward the patio, her smile nervous and bold. They stepped outside into the cold, breath fogging, the night alive with sparks overhead. “Happy New Year, Mark,” she murmured, voice trembling with conviction and longing. “This will be our year.” He leaned his forehead to hers, as though something in him needed that contact to speak. “Yes,” he breathed. “All of it. All about us.” Their kiss was slow and certain, fireworks bursting above them as if the world approved.

 

The Drive Home – Different Paths

The drive home felt like a beginning. Snow sifted over the windshield, headlights painting long silver stripes on the road. Mark’s heart hammered, but it wasn’t fear — not yet. It was momentum, the same kind that had propelled him here, to North Carolina, to her. “I want this to be real,” he said. “Not temporary. Not a visit. I want to move here. For good. To start our life. Together.” Kimmy’s gasp was immediate and bright. Her hand flew to his arm. “Yes. Mark, yes. I— I can’t believe—” Her voice broke into a laugh. “I can’t believe we get this.” “We’ll get a place together,” he continued. “Something new. In the suburbs. A fresh start. A chapter one.” Silence, then: “Oh,” Kimmy said quietly. “I always thought we’d live in the house.” “The house?” he asked. “My house,” she whispered. “Our

 forever house.” Something in him faltered. They pulled into the driveway, both too aware of the space between their hands. “Fun party,” Mark tried. His voice was light, but not sincere. “Yeah,” Kimmy said. “My friends liked you.” ——— That night, Kimmy wore The Shirt and crawled into bed facing away from him for the first time since the beginning. It cracked him open. I did that, he thought. She closed her eyes, the glow of the Christmas shirt hanging over the chair catching her attention: ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU Her lips trembled. You are all I want. For Christmas. For everything. Did I just miss the chance of a lifetime? She fell asleep with tears at the edges of her lashes.

Morning – A New Day

Mark woke first. He dressed quietly — dark jeans, wool socks, the soft white sweater she once said made him look like someone she would have admired in high school. Two mugs of coffee made themselves under his hands. He didn’t touch either. He stepped outside. Snow lacquered the back deck, the river beyond moving like liquid glass. He gripped the railing, sweater doing nothing to stop the cold. I did that. I pushed too hard. But wasn’t I right? Then: Why does being right feel like being alone? The image of her turned away burned behind his eyelids, followed by another — worse: That side of the bed empty. “I shouldn’t have asked so much of her,” he whispered. The door clicked. Bare feet. The Shirt. Her. “What are you doing out here without a coat?” Kimmy scolded lightly. “You’ll catch your death of cold.” He misread the look in her eyes. Thought he saw regret. Thought he saw an exit. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Any of this. You don’t owe me a future just because we almost had one last night. I love you enough to let you go if staying means settling.” Her voice broke before her tears did. “What makes you think I need saving from you?” They stepped into each other’s gravity. “I’m sorry,” he said first. “For rushing. For assuming. For forgetting that love isn’t a test someone has to pass.” “I’m sorry,” she said next. “For expecting you to slide into my world without asking where yours fit. I don’t want you to feel like a guest in a life you helped build.” “We don’t have to give anything up,” he whispered. “We just have to make room. Together. However long it takes.” She breathed him in. “I love you. Even when we get it wrong.” “I always will,” he said. “No matter what house. No matter what room. No matter how long it takes to make it ours.” “One room at a time,” she murmured. “One room at a time,” he echoed.

Under The Mistletoe

Inside, coffee reheated, they drifted to the tree, pulled by instinct. They stopped in front of the Disney ornaments at the same moment. “Us?” she asked. “Us,” he confirmed. “Forever under the mistletoe. In one lifelong kiss of life together.” They held each other, the tree lights painting their skin gold, the ornaments gleaming like promises. “I love you,” she breathed. “I love you,” he echoed. “And I always will.” Fade to black