“Cheers,” Peter said, and clinked his whiskey glass against June’s hastily raised one. “New year and all that.”
She took a sip of the whiskey, relishing the bite. “Do you think resolutions are worth it?”
“What d’you mean?” He settled into an easy pose, staring out the window of the townhouse they shared.
“Well.” She perched on the edge of the mocha leather couch that had been their indulgent move-in purchase six months prior. “You know, promising to your future self that you’ll do a thing, only to be disappointed when the next year comes and you realize you’ve forgotten all the things you meant to do.”
“No,” he said briefly, and took a drink, still studying the neighbors’ steadily glowing Christmas displays. “I suppose it’s a bigger deal in the US – especially after living through a few different types of new year celebrations, at different times of year.”
“I always hated the guilt when I realized I’d failed,” she admitted, toying with the end of her braid. June set her drink on a side table, immediately picked it up and put it on a coaster instead, and tugged the band from her hair.
She ran her hands through the waves, obscuring her vision, and pushed the strands back to find Peter at eye level.
“I always liked the new year,” he said softly from one knee, a small box resting on the palm of his right hand. “Ring out the old. Ring in the new.”
***
Love this! And it’s exactly what Peter would do!