I’m busy trying to find someone to kiss at midnight.

Olivia

How’s that working out for you?

Asher

Very well.

I’ve got a long list of prospects.

I’m a hot commodity.

Olivia

Well then.

Have a Happy New Year, Mr. McGowan.

Asher

I intend to, Ms. Langley.

Hope you’re not too lonely.

Olivia

Don’t worry about me.

Betsy is keeping me company.

It’s practically impossible to find a cab, but I somehow manage to flag one down. I spew off rushed directions and it takes us twenty painful minutes to get to my apartment. Inside, I mumble a half-hearted hello to the security guard before pushing the elevator button an excessive amount of times.

Why do things take so long?

Humans have evolved enough.

Teleportation should be a thing.

When I finally get upstairs, I fight my key into the lock. Everything is so hard.

And I mean everything.

The first thing I see is a pair of black heels that have been carelessly kicked off. I follow their trail to a shimmery gold dress that’s thrown over the back of my couch. On the railing of the stairs is a flimsy lace bra, and placed on the fourth step is a pair of barely-there black panties that leave very little to the imagination.

I groan.

And when I step into my loft and see Olivia in the tub, up to her neck in bubbles, sipping a flute of champagne, I think I might die.

I really need to call my realtor and apologize to her. A tub in the bedroom is so not impractical. It’s the best thing ever.

“Figured you’d be kissing Harriett from accounting by now,” Olivia hums.

“She was a top contender.”

Olivia grins slyly at me and it takes all the self restraint I have not to grab her from the tub and throw her on my bed. The honeymoon phase is a very real thing. We’ve barely left my apartment in a week.

“How was the party?” she asks.

“Over the top,” I say. “Ana should really find a new event planner.”

“Heard the one she hired was a bit of a flake,” she says. “Didn’t even show up today.”

“So unprofessional.”

I’m kneeling beside the tub and I’m living a fantasy I didn’t know I had. I’m stupidly in love. It’s disgusting.

“I can’t believe you’ve been using this tub as storage when you could have had me in it all this time.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“The biggest idiot,” she says. “You don’t deserve to see me so hot and bothered and soapy.”

“Surely, I can do something to convince you I’m worthy.”