Sonia M. Rompoti, MSc, Bsc

Daily Dose of Romance – Short Stories for FREE |

They’d both come to the party single, which was the setup. They’d both been ignoring each other since August, which was the context. And now it was eleven fifty-eight on the thirty-first of December and they were on the balcony while the rest of the party counted down inside, because they’d both gone for air at the same time, which was the beginning of the end of pretending.

“Of all the balconies,” she said.

“Don’t,” he said.

“I was going to say it’s a good balcony.”

“No you weren’t.”

She leaned on the railing. The city sprawled below, lights multiplying in the cold. Somewhere close, fireworks were being tested in advance of the hour.

“Grace.”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to say something you should have said in August.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I should have said it in August,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because August was complicated.”

“And now?”

He turned to face her. She turned to face him. The city hummed below and inside the party counted, audible through the glass — ten, nine, eight—

“Now it’s two minutes to midnight,” he said, “and I’m done being complicated.”

“Declan.”

“I’ve been in love with you since the conference in June and I’ve been mishandling it since August and I’m not going to take it into a new year.”

*Seven, six, five—*

“You really could have said this in August,” she said.

“I know.”

“Or September.”

“I know.”

“October was very available—”

Four, three—

He kissed her.

Not at midnight — at two, at one, and the cheers erupted through the glass and the first fireworks burst over the city and none of it was for them specifically, but it felt like it was. It absolutely felt like it was.

When they broke apart she was laughing, and he was laughing, and the city was luminous with light.

“June,” she said.

“June,” he confirmed.

“I’ve been in love with you since the conference in June,” she said.

He pulled back to look at her. “Say that again.”

“No. You wasted four months and you don’t get the repeat.”

“Grace.”

“Declan.”

The fireworks continued. His hands were cold from the balcony and warm from her.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Right now. Tonight.”

“I want to stop hiding on balconies,” she said. “I want to go inside and let people see us and tomorrow I want to wake up not pretending anymore.”

“That’s everything I want,” he said.

“Then we agree.”

She took his hand — cold, certain, decided.

They went back inside.

The room took one look at them and a cheer went up that had nothing to do with the new year.

It had everything to do with the fact that some things took exactly as long as they needed to, and then they were simply, finally done waiting.

The year opened up ahead of them like a door.

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So you made it to the end… which probably means you’re the kind of person who enjoys a little romance with their coffee. If you’re in the mood for more stories about messy feelings, stubborn attraction, and women who absolutely refuse to settle for boring love, you can find all my books here.

Fair warning though. One story tends to lead to another. I’ve seen it happen. Repeatedly.