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Savannah
New Year’s Eve
As the clockchimed throughout the room, as the city skyline lit up with fireworks, and the ball dropped in Times Square, I cheered along with the rest of my family as we celebrated the new year.
Bouncing on my heels, I laughed as Aidan swept me over his arm and swooped me down into a dramatic kiss worthy of the first New Year's of the rest of our lives together.
Squeezing me as we stood up, I pressed my hands to his cheeks and looked up into his eyes as we simultaneously murmured, "I love you."
A grin made my face feel as if it were splitting in two, and his smile felt just as powerful and pervasive. It sank into me, settling into my bones, filling me up in a way that went beyond sexual, that was more than lust. It was love. Real, honest to God, love.
We had a way to go still. He was bossy and cocksure. Arrogant because of his position, prone to being a possessive pain in my patootie—especially when I basically told the FBI on live TV to come at me, bruh—and traditional to the point of being amusing, we were bound to knock heads, especially as I was nosy, disobedient, and with a voice that wouldn’t quit. We had things like his addiction to maneuver, the Sparrows, his parents’ clear mental breakdowns thanks to what they’d learned about their son, never mind the basics of his being a Five Pointer, but I knew we’d do it.
We were born to fight this war together.
I felt that in my very bones.
As his brothers came around us, clapping Aidan on the back and vice versa, I slipped away, wanting to wish Jen a Happy New Year.
When I found her standing by one of the massive picture windows in Finn’s apartment, I saw Aoife hugging her then slipping away to the party, and I was glad. I was starting to like Aoife, but I wanted to speak with Jen. I knew she was concerned about the upcoming court case that was heading her way, and I had a solution.
A dramatic one.
She wouldn’t like it.
I knew she wouldn’t.
But I had to give her the option.
Of course, that meant potentially breaking our friendship with irreparable consequences, but maybe it was time to come clean.
Huh, perhaps being around so many of these Catholics was making me feel all that Catholic guilt in buckets?
Trying not to let my confidence buckle, knowing she needed this because she’d only accept so much help from me, I slipped over to her and rested my head on her shoulder.
As always, she wore enough clothing to constitute a child’s dress, whereas I, on the other hand, was in a tailored suit. I’d been smart about it though—I wore cream pants to hide any potential hanky panky that might occur, after having learned the hard way that black only made bodily fluids stand out in stark relief—and a black shirt, but my jacket was gold silk embroidered with lilies. My heels, stilettos that were going to be digging into Aidan’s butt at some point this evening, were shiny black patent crimes against mankind.
Aidan had called them Boner-Makers.
Of course, that meant I was wearing them all the time now.
Today was also the first day I didn’t need that goddamn bandage on my leg. My bruises and cuts were close to clearing up, and the only marks and soreness left on my body were consensually caused thanks to way too much sex.
Yeah, this was me, living my best life.
She slipped an arm around my waist as we peered out onto the skyline ahead. "Happy New Year, sweetheart."
"Back at you, hon." I sighed. "You look pensive. I thought you’d be drunk by now."
"Did you taste the cranberry vodka?"
I smirked. "Do bears shit in the woods?"
"I don’t know where they got that crack from, but it was delishusss."
"It has maple syrup in it."
"I should have been born Canadian," Jen muttered. "They put it in everything."
