And then finally, finally, we’re enjoying ourselves, having so much fun drinking and dancing that I lose track of time. Even so, I’m shocked when the DJ stops the music to announce, “All right, folks, we’re approaching the last fifteen minutes of the year. Grab a flute of champagne and your special someone before it’s too late!”

“It’s almost midnight already?” My words come out slurred, and I’m barely standing up straight on my own two feet. I may have drunk a bit too much, but so has almost everyone else in the room. “Wow, that bartender mixes some very strong drinks.”

“He does,” Celeste agrees, picking up two champagne flutes from one of the waiters. “But also, you’re a lightweight. I think you only had two or three?”

“Do you not feel it?”

“Kinda. I could drink a lot more, but one of us has to make sure we get home safely.”

Even though I’m pretty far gone, I’m sober enough to feel bad that Celeste has to be the responsible one at my office party.

“Noooo,” I say. “Have fun! We’re not even driving afterward.”

“It’s fine. Besides, who says I’m not having fun? Watching you trying to dance in this state is the best entertainment I’ve had all week.”

As if on cue, I lose my balance, nearly toppling onto the floor.

“Whoa there!” Celeste catches me just in time, pulling me back on my feet so we’re almost nose to nose.

I want to kiss her. So bad. I close my eyes, too drunk to care about anything else.

But instead of making out with me like I want her to, Celeste coughs. “Gem, your boss is watching.”

“Huh?”

I straighten up, my vision blurring from the sudden movement. As soon as I’m able, I search the dance floor. No Evelyn in sight.

“I’m kidding,” Celeste laughs. “I have no idea where she is.”

I laugh, too, but my heart squeezes with disappointment. I was clearly about to kiss her when she pulled that little trick. It makes me wonder if she hasn’t been feeling the same tension I’ve been feeling between us all night.

We are exes, after all… I remind myself. But I’d be lying if I said I still hold the same resentment and bitterness I felt toward her when we first ran into each other last month.

“Okay!” the DJ exclaims. “The time has come! Lift your champagne flutes and get ready to ring in the New Year! Ten… nine…”

Celeste gently but firmly hoists me up so I’m standing straight again.

“Eight… seven…”

I look up at Celeste, and she peers down at me, the faintest smile on her face as she hands me my champagne flute.

“Six… five… four…”

We squeeze each other’s hands.

“Three… two… one… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”