Paul was a bit shocked the day after Christmas when Stephanie claimed she didn't want to do anything for New Year's Eve. It fell on a free Sunday and, though they had work on the following day, they certainly could squeeze in a party the night before if it was what they wanted.
"It's not what I want though," Stephanie told him with a slight shrug. "I told the girls that I'd spend it with them. We'll, you know, count down together. Watch the ball drop."
"Well, did you wanna see if anyone wants to come over here?" he asked then. "Like Shane or-"
"No. It's gonna just be us."
"Us, huh."
"Well, you can go out if you want," she assured him. "We'll make it just a girls night then. But they'd probably wouldn't mind if Daddy was here too."
He considered it for the week, what he wanted to do for the evening. It would have been nice, going to a party with Steph, but it could be nice going to one without her too. Going out with a spouse was more than a bit consuming in certain ways and, in that type of setting, hanging around without her would be nice.
But then he'd have to put up with questions of where she was and why they weren't together and they were clearly having problems, right? Not together on New Year's? Definitely headed for divorce.
Not to mention, the only party he really got invited to was a stuffy one where he'd probably have to dress nice and he'd dressed nice enough, he felt, for all of 2017 and just wanted to end the year in the most comfortable way possible. And there was no more comfort in the world to him than the one that his daughters could offer.
As they had New Year's Day off, Paul and Steph told the girls that they could hang out till midnight with them, if they could make it that long. They didn't, of course, any of their three daughters, but they had a good time leading up to that. Steph let them pick out some of that gross frozen crap at the store the day before as well as some other junk food, so their soiree consisted of things that Paul found extra gross. Steph was in her element though as it was nearly impossible to screw up frozen pizza rolls and chicken nuggets. Not to say that she couldn't, because she could, but that night she didn't.
All around though, Paul enjoyed it far more than he would have going out. They got more than halfway through a board game for once, had the low number of only two sibling arguments throughout, and even all agreed on which movie to watch. His youngest dropped off the party wagon around nine though and he'd only just carted her off up the stairs when he found his middle daughter also fell asleep.
His oldest held out for far longer, which was fine as it gave her a chance to spend some time with them alone. It wasn't easy to find, after all, a period of time in which both Steph and Paul were completely at the disposal of only one of their kids. She didn't make it past eleven though and, though Steph tried to wake each of the girls up about five minutes to midnight, so they could have that big countdown to the ball drop that she wanted, but they all waved her off and refused to get up.
"It's okay, Stephie," he said as she came sulking back down the stairs empty handed. "I'll count down with you baby."
She went off to the kitchen first though and, when she arrived back with two cups at the final minute, Paul only gave her a look.
"It's sparkling grape juice," she said with a shrug as he finally accepted his cup.
"I'm gonna stop letting you and the girls go to the store alone," he threatened as he stared down into the cup.
"It would have been cute," Steph defended. "Like with champagne, but not."
"You could have just bought non-alcoholic champagne."
"What?"
"Non-alc-"
"Hush." And she hit at his arm with her free hand for some reason, bouncing on the couch. 'It's almost time."
He gave her a look for it, but he was grinning a bit as he looked across the living room at the television where the crowd in Times Square were excitedly beginning the descent from ten. Even though Stephanie had wanted the girls to be up with them, there was something nice in the simplicity, Paul found, as they sat together on their couch in the relative calm. They didn't get many moments like that and, in times like the one they were having, he rarely missed out on enjoying them.
Stephanie gave him a quick kiss at midnight, but just as quickly she was moving to down her shot of juice. He wasn't sure which caused her to make that disgusted face afterwards, but he beamed regardless as he moved to pour the remnants of cup into hers, having no intention of drinking it. When she only made a face in return, he beamed and leaned into kiss her again.
Their moment couldn't last for long though because Andre, their dog, had been rather good the whole night, but decided then that they'd all been up for far too long and he was ready for bed. Before bed though, he always liked to go run around the yard one last time, no matter rainy weather or clear skies. Not that either of those were going on that cold early hour on January 1st. No, the sky was cloudy and, though no snow was currently falling, it had quite heavily early in the day and covered the area. Andre didn't mind none and, the second the backdoor was opened for him, he set out to get as covered in the white fluff as he could.
"Steph, you seriously don't have to go out there with him," Paul complained as she slipped on her shoes and a jacket. "It's too cold."
"It's not even in the teens," she replied as he only continued to sit there on the couch. He'd hoped that after letting the whiny dog out the backdoor she'd come back to him there, but it was looking like that wasn't the case. "And he gets upset if I don't go out there and watch him play."
"How do you know? Huh? You talking with a dog now? 'cause I might have a clause for divorce in the prenup that covers that."
"He comes right back in if I don't go out there," she said with a roll of her eyes as, heading back through the living room and to the backdoor. "And then he doesn't get to sniff around."
"I don't quite get why that's a bad thing."
"What difference does it make to you if I go out there or not?"
Because he was going with her.
Sure, she hadn't asked him to and didn't even really show any signs of wanting him to, but he was going to.
It took him a bit longer to find a hoodie to pull on (he'd only been in some sleep pants) as well as where his sneakers got off to. But once he had those all on, he went out to check on his wife, not shocked to find her standing by the railing of their deck, looking over the side and down at where their dog was trekking all over the snowy backyard in the darkness.
"It's not too cold," Paul remarked though he stuck his hands into his hoodie pockets as soon as he stepped out of the warm house. "Steph."
"It's freezing," she complained back, not turning to face him. "You don't have to come out here."
"If I wanna spend these next few minutes with you, yeah, I do."
"Is that what you wanna do?"
"It's what I'm doing."
When he was beside her, Steph gave him a smile as she finally glanced at him and, grinning back, he bowed his head a bit and kicked at the snow dusting the deck.
"Do you feel all bubbly inside?" his wife asked, eyes alight. "Over the new year?"
"No," he said slowly. "But then, I didn't drink that weird juice, so-"
"Maybe next year they'll be able to stay up till midnight," she sighed with a shake of her head. "And give their own critiques of the New Year's first beverage."
Paul made a face in response to that. "Beverage? That was hardly more than horse piss, smelled like."
"Okay, well next year you go to the store and plan a nice night for all of us, okay?"
"Besides," he went on, "next year I'm pretty sure we'll be working, right? New Year's Eve will be on Monday."
Stephanie made a face at the thought before shrugging and saying, "Maybe I'll resign then."
"Over New Year's plans?"
"Over New Year's plans."
"You could always just sleep with your bos- I'm talking about me, stop shoving me, I'm gonna slip!"
"You're not my boss anyways," she said as he only held up his hands in defense. "So-"
"Pretty sure I am."
"Pretty sure you're not."
"Pretty sure you don't know what you're talking about."
"Pretty sure same."
"Pretty sure same? What does that even mean, Steph? Are you having a stroke? Did your tongue freeze before you could finish your sentence? Are you illiterate? What?"
"Am I illiterate?" she complained iwht a frown. "Coming from the guy who uses illiterate to, apparently, define speech as oppose to written word-"
"Oh look at you," he retorted dryly. "Breaking out big words like oppose and phrases like written word. All to intimidate a bumbling idiot like me."
"I wouldn't say bumbling."
"You wouldn't?"
"I wouldn't."
"Thanks, babe. Means a lot to me." And he leaned towards her, as if he were going to wrap an arm around her, but with his hands in his pocket it was more or less just bumping elbows. It still made Stephanie grin though and, were they not already red from the nips of cold air, her cheeks probably would have brightened a bit.
Their eyes both found one another then and, staring at him, Stephanie said, "I think this was a good, you know, Christmas season this year."
"You like what Santa bought you, did you?" He wasn't smiling as brightly as her, but he wasn't wincing from the cold as much as he had been when first stepping out there. "Or was it something else you enjoyed?"
"I'm not sure what you're implying-"
"I think you are."
"-but it was just the whole thing, really," she replied. "I mean, we were gone a lot, on work, it felt like, but when we were home we watched all those stupid movies on TV and that one day I made cookies with the girls-"
"You bought cookies."
"Cookie dough," she defended. "And we decorated them with frosting. And you ate one."
"Half of one," he corrected. "That frosting was fucking gross."
"It wasn't great, was it?"
"Gross. I said fucking gross. I'm not budging on that."
"But they made great pictures," Steph kept up. "We put up the tree all together too, this year. Me, you, the girls. Andre. Remember? That was fun."
"I'm not helping take it down."
"Stop being so sour, Paul."
"I'm just getting it out in the open is all," he defended. "I'll put the boxes in the attic after all the ornaments are up and take the damn thing out to the curb, if you want, but-"
"We had a great time too, that one day, when we were home and we all went out front building snowmen. The girls had so much fun. That was a good memory."
He had no gripe about that one. How could he? He had liked it. It wasn't too cold, the snow was good for packing, and the girls were all on their best behaviors.
"You were kind of an asshole to me over the Christmas presents stuff though," Steph continued to muse, as if the conversation they were having wasn't simply something to keep their minds off how cold it was out. Or the fact that the only reason they were out there was because her damn dog apparently couldn't piss and shit on his own. "When we were shopping that day."
"I didn't want to go, you made me, I went, we bought stuff together. What more did you want?"
"I wanted to go to dinner-"
"You were on my ass the whole night and then thought that I would wanna go out and-"
"Okay, never mind," she was quick to say when his brow fell a bit. "I didn't mean to bring it up."
The moment had been killed though, in that brief second, and Steph turned to look once more down at her dog. Paul sighed a bit, glancing up at the clouds above. He wanted to go in, but now they were cross with one another a bit so he was stuck. Because he wasn't going to go to bed on the first of the year mad at his wife. It wasn't a good way to end or begin anything.
Something hit his eye then and, skewing it shut, he shook his head some before he realized what had happened.
"Steph," he said as he elbowed her purposely that time. When she glanced at him, he nodded up. "Look. It's snowin'."
That got her to glance at him, but only for a moment before she was looking up as well and that was all it took. Four words and her smile was already lighting up her face once more. The sight alone was enough to bring one to Paul's face as well.
"Awe," she giggled before looking back to him. "You know who would love this? The girls. I wish they were still up."
And he leaned down some, as well as in, just so he could tell her, "I don't."
She giggled a bit, into the kiss, but it was mostly from the fact his hands came out of his pockets and his thumb was against her cheek. When he pulled back, it was only to shift a bit so that he could nuzzle his head against hers.
He thought he should tell her then, all about what a wonderful year it had been. About how much he'd enjoyed it. Being with her. And it had been a long time since they weren't together, but he would gladly do a whole nother year, just for her. Just to be with her. And more too, he'd probably add, but maybe in a snarky way because Steph ate that shit up, but he'd definitely be open to hearing what she had to say in return.
Steph was great at a lot of things and recalling fond memories was one of them (see above). When they first got together, she liked to spend New Year's doing shit like that, talking about what their favorite memories were from the past year and all that stupid garb. And he sat through it, albeit grouchily, for her sake. Because he loved her.
But things had changed and somewhere along the way that had faded. New Year's now was spent either busy with work or sleeping during the short amount of time their attentions weren't being grabbed by three seemingly (but certainly not) attention deprived little girls while they were home. Stephanie was still gushy and romantic, but weariness and complacency curbed it (somewhat) while Paul was now far grouchier than he ever had been before and wasn't as up for all that stuff constantly.
He wasn't playing for a prize. He'd already won.
That didn't mean though that he didn't still try to do things for Steph. That he didn't still put up with her annoying quirks. Because he did. He listened to her talk endlessly about their relationship on their anniversary, snuggled her when she was feeling badly on birthdays, and didn't gripe too much when she thought of ways for the girls to torment him on his own (mostly 'cause he secretly loved those). He listened to her long ass voicemails when they were away from one another for a few days and even left her a few when it seemed like she wanted him to.
Paul loved Steph, sure, but he was also in love with her. Massively. That didn't mean that she didn't bother him a lot, because she did, but for all her stupid quirks, he knew that at the root of them was just her equal love for him.
And it was probably because of her love of him that she hadn't made him sit through one of those New Year's talks in a few years.
He could have changed it. She'd have probably enjoyed it.
But instead he only brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, "Happy New Year, Stephie."
She ducked her head some then, burying it in the fuzz of his hoodie as she whispered back, "Happy New Years, Paul."
Extremely untimely, but just some stuff that I never got to during this past winter. And besides, Mania seasons like a new years, right? Right?