"New Years Eve, thirty degrees outside, and you're wearing a dress like that," Matteo states, adjusting his bowtie. His custom-tailored tuxedo is classic black and white attire, formalwear for the soiree we've been invited to by Matteo's producer.
"You don't like it?"
The pale pink gown is silk, soft to the touch. My hands glide over the material, appreciating the Marilyn vibes I get in it. With the faux fur coat, the outfit will be complete. Matteo's objection might be because the dress dips down, baring my back to the hips.
"It's impossible not to like it, as I'm sure every man in attendance will also agree."
I roll my eyes at his presumption, grabbing my coat. "You're ridiculous."
"Usually. In this I'm not."
He walks up to me, and I must tilt my head to meet his eyes.
"Are you going to tell me to take it off?" I ask him, testily.
There's a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I wouldn't dare."
"Smart man."
"I have my moments."
He drags a hand through his dark hair, styled back for the elegant occasion. I'm temporarily stunned.
"You are hot," I admit, checking him out unabashedly. He plants his mouth onto mine, making me fall back a step. I'm smiling when he pulls back, having run his hands over the silk.
"Why don't we just stay here? I could make staying home worth it," he offers, urging me closer. I chuckle, shaking my head.
"Oh no, we're going out. This is my first New Year's with you."
"We'll have many of them."
"Yeah, but none like tonight," I reply. He rolls his eyes and nods, reaching down to clasp my hand.
"Alright, then let's get going or we'll be in the taxi when it's midnight."
***
"Matteo!"
Doug Ferman darts around the crowd of people, weaving his way through the bulk of the party guests inhabiting his penthouse, an abode that takes up a good chunk of Manhattan. A large showy grin is plastered on his face as he reaches the entrance where we are taking off our winter coats. He tugs on Matteo's hand exuberantly. "Jesus, man! You never show up to these things! This is great!"
"Thank you for having us, Doug," Matteo replies politely, laying a hand on my back. "This is Emma Simone."
Doug leans in, pecking a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Emma, it's nice to meet you. That is definitely some dress. I mean, wow."
"Thank you." I smile, feeling pretty good. Matteo doesn't seem to take the same joy as I do from the compliment. Doug must feel his wrath coming because he quickly changes the subject, encouraging us to follow him.
"Come on! While you're here, let me introduce you to some people!"
***
After introductions to five different aspiring musicians on the rise and two businessmen hoping to acquire tickets to Matteo's shows for their wives, shows which have already sold out to capacity before rehearsals have even begun, I'm not opposed to seclusion. We choose a place on the terrace and I watch Matteo finally take a breath, having spent a good portion of the night observing how standoffish he still is meeting fans.
In a gentlemanly gesture, he shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, holding it out for me to slip into. It's freezing and I'm grateful for the warmth, not wishing to travel through the apartment for my coat. It smells like him, deliciously. He leans into the railing, his elbows resting against the metal. I cross the small distance, seeking his warmth. My arms slink around his waist.
"It's crazy we're here together," I admit, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. He's warm and comfortable and even with the frigid temperatures, I'm content here.
"It's crazy to think where we were...last year at this time."
I nod, thinking back. I was inconsolable on New Years. It hadn't even been a month without Matteo. I was home alone. That was the night Danny showed up on my doorstep, having been informed of my turmoil by my concern family. I spent the night crying and fumbling through what I felt I could actually tell him about my relationship with Matteo. It was after that night that we started seeing each other more again.
I can only imagine what Matteo was like. I actually don't think I want to.
There are waiters passing by, decked-out guests glancing at their clocks. It's only minutes to midnight and there is that sense of anticipation, a moment of muted chaos where you can't help but go over the events of the year and revel in the changes, in the mistakes, and triumphs. An anticipation where your blood quickens, your heart races and suddenly, it's there.
The moment where the year is anew and suddenly, anything is possible.
Doug charges through the door, party hat perched lazily on his head. There's a stunning redhead on his arm, waving her champagne glass wildly enough that the alcohol is pouring out of the sides. He extends his arms with a grin, shaking his head towards us.
"You do know the party is inside, right?"
Annoyed to be found, we laugh hesitantly when he approaches us. My eyes catch sight of two flutes of champagne, dunked grapes submerged in the alcohol. He offers us each a glass, explaining the reason for the fruit.
"It's a tradition in my family. Twelve grapes for each month of the year. It gives you prosperity, good luck."
"I've never heard of this tradition," Matteo says, breathing in deeply as he takes the drink from the redhead. I take mine from Doug, nervously glancing to Matteo.
"It fucking works, man. I mean, look at this place. My car. My clients," he exclaims, wiggling his eyebrows at Matteo, who smirks, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, you've got it all," Matteo mutters, unable to conceal the sarcasm that comes with his reply. I dig my elbow into his side reproachfully, trying not to laugh. Thankfully, Doug is preoccupied with the woman on his arm, trying to kiss her.
"Why don't you join us inside?" Jessica Rabbit asks, batting her fake eyelashes at my date. Doug isn't too drunk to miss her directness aimed at Matteo. Becoming territorial, he grabs her waist, pulling her close to him.
"Let them stay if they want to stay," Doug presses. "We'll see you inside."
Matteo nods as they turn, retreating back to the warmth of the apartment for the countdown to Midnight. It's quiet again and I take a relieved breath when Matteo sets his flute onto the decorated high-table behind him. I also set mine down beside his.
"Em."
When I look at him, I find him uncomfortable. "What?"
He looks up at the sky, pursing his lips. "You don't have to not drink because I'm not. It's New Years Eve. Have some champagne."
"I'm okay, really. I don't want any."
He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "So, what? You're just not going to drink ever again?"
"No," I say with little thought to it. "I'm not."
His smile fades the longer I refuse to make my confession into a joke. When he realizes I'm serious, his brows furrow. "What do you mean no?"
"I don't need it."
"It's not about needing it. It's about wanting it. And I know you like to drink."
"I'm not going to drink in front of you, Matteo."
He doesn't like that answer. "That's ridiculous. You're not going to drink ever again then?"
"No, I'm not," I say, forcefully, sticking to my decision.
It becomes really quiet until I start to hear the chatter bubbling from inside and wonder how close we are to midnight. After what feels like an eternity, his hand rests on my hip and he pulls me closer to him, resting his index finger underneath my chin.
I look at him, finding his smile is gentle.
"I appreciate what you're doing, Em. I really do, but I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about that."
"It's an addiction. I'm always going to worry about it."
"I don't need it. Don't give up the normality, the pleasure of it because of me."
I place my hands on his chest and smooth them over his crisp tuxedo shirt up to his neck, breathing in deeply. "You mean more to me than normality, Matteo."
He closes his eyes. "Em-"
"Can you just accept that I need you more than anything else?" I ask, chuckling. He exhales, shaking his head.
"I don't know if I ever will."
"You will...someday."
"I really love you," he whispers softly, resting his forehead against mine. I smile, unsure as to whether I'll ever get used to him saying that. We both have quite a bit we have to get used to in this relationship. His lips initially meet mine gently, coaxingly, but in mere seconds, I have my hands buried deep in his hair and he's pressed me as tight as I can be into the railing.
The Midnight cheers suddenly swarm from inside the party and echo all the way outside to where we are. We pull back, both breathless, feeling the excitement one does in a new start.
Matteo grins as I begin to hop excitedly. "Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year!"