"What happened now?" Renee asked, adjusting Dean's collar. She couldn't take her eyes off the injury below his chin. "Have you walked past a barbed wire?"

Dean sighed. Another attempt to take her hand off his neck failed. All he wanted was help with the shirt and the tie. Not a detailed analysis of the scab.

She sensed his resentment. "Fine." Finally she took the hands off him. Other than the red spot on his neck, he looked great. With his sophisticated look, clothes that made him look like a noble gentleman, and combed hair.

"You should have gotten used to my imperfections," Dean said quietly.

"I love your imperfections," she whispered in his ear. For this, she had to stand on her tiptoes. Right now she appeared so small compared to him. Her shoes were not yet on her feet so it took a lot of effort to reach his lips, but she kissed him. Then she continued, "But you can't expect me not to comment on your injuries. Even the accidental ones that have nothing to do with your dangerous career."

"Dangerous career," he repeated in a sarcastic tone, and laughed. The look on her face made it clear she did not mean it as a joke. Even when he understood this, there was no change. He kept smiling. However, he let go off the topic. Again he reached for the upper part of his shirt, the collar, and watched himself in the mirror while positioning it so that the scab would become invisible. Dean's mouth opened to say something unrelated but then he said, "Like you have no scars." The light eyes were watching her, her shocked reaction of a victim. The smile on his face had disappeared a second earlier but now it was on its way back. He kneeled in front of her, and even before his knees touched the ground his arms were holding her left leg. They pulled down the stocking and the pointy finger on the right hand made a circle around some bruise in the middle of which one could see a scab older no more than two days. Subsequently Dean kissed the leg above the knee and stood up again.

Renee was irritated by her stockings not being of same high anymore so she lifted her left again and decided to take the sock completely off. Dean prevented her from realization of that action by herself; he did it for her.

"Thank you," she said, as he waited for her to lift the other leg as well. Once she found herself barefoot, she told him, "I think I'll handle the rest."

Dean shrugged; he did not mind. "I have nothing better to do." Then he realized there actually was one more thing that he needed to do before leaving. "Oh," he gasped. "I'll be right back." The ring. The most important thing. It was New Year's Eve; this could be a great opportunity for him to propose to her. Even if not, he had to have the ring on him. At all times, as he had until now. Except when he was in the shower, of course. But other that, there was not a single second when the ring would be further away from him than seven feet.

In the time he was gone, she made an incredible progress. From wearing comfortable clothes in which she never left home she changed into her evening dress. The socks were back in the closet, as the rest of the clothes. She exchanged it for a long red dress that she'd stay in until around two in the morning. If everything goes according to the plan. Except the plan had been made only until midnight; what happens January 1, was as of right now a mystery to both of them.

When her boyfriend returned, she was just about to put on earrings. "Why don't you wear the ones I gave you?"

Hearing his voice, she turned around and smiled at him. "You gave me a necklace, not earrings," she corrected him.

Dean thought before he'd continue with the argument. "No, I gave you earrings."

"When, my love?" she asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"This Christmas."

While she laughed and went on with the preparation for the party, he focused on his truth, or what he believed to be the truth. "Don't make me the kind of boyfriend who doesn't know what he gives to her girlfriend. I've picked it myself, and I recognize the jewelry I've bought."

Renee smiled at him and said, "Ok, Mr. I recognize the jewelry I've bought, go recognize it in that drawer." She pointed at the one at the top. "If you see it there, I wear it tonight."

Even if that pair of earrings existed, this was a tremendous challenge for his male mind. How could he recognize the earrings he had picked when he saw earrings of all colors and shapes all together? He spent about two minutes looking through it. It had to exist, he kept reminding himself, and he had to find it.

"Any luck?" Renee asked. She was almost done.

"I can't work under pressure," he mumbled. "It's got to be here. Somewhere." He kept going through the ones that were in front of him, again and again, but nothing. It came down to final hope. "Show me again the ones you're wearing."

He approached her. Those earring seemed familiar, didn't they? To be honest, Dean had no idea. Nobody could expect him to be good at this. His was struggling. All his desires were directed at finding those earrings, proving he was right, proving he could be that kind of guy who pays attention to the kind of presents he gives to his girl. Unfortunately, he couldn't even convince himself.

Now saddened look took charge of his face. Then she focused her eyes on him, took his hand into hers, and guided it to the necklace she put on just a second ago. When he held the pendant in his hand, he looked into her eyes. "That's what you gave me." The disappointment in his eyes was too visible for her to not notice him. The disillusion over himself. "And I love it," added Renee.

He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. Once again he returned with his thoughts to the earrings that she was wearing. "Where do you have them from?" She didn't reply at first, so he said, "Ok, I know they're not from me."

"Dean, it's alright. I don't expect you to know these things." Like that sentence helped his manhood. Only then she actually answered the question he posed her. "I got the earrings from Roman."

Dean played with them. He didn't appear happy.

What Renee said, what she believed would make him feel at least a little better, was, "He wouldn't recognize them either."

"That's a poor excuse."

"Here's an idea, Dean," Renee said. "Stop buying something you have no interest in." Before he would misunderstand her, she explained, "I love getting jewelry from you. Anything, really. But I don't want to see you suffer because of something as stupid as your not being able to recognize the gift you've given me. Next time just give me a chocolate massage or something."

Maybe in more distant future he would take her advice. In immediate future, though, he would give her jewelry once more. However, this time he would remember. He had been looking at that diamond ring for over a month. He knew it by heart. Even if he didn't see it, even if he just touched it he'd recognize it. And it wasn't the first ring he saw either. Minutes and minutes he spent looking at it in the store, hours of looking at it at home. Yes, that was the ring he wanted. He had to be sure. Now he was. The only thing left was to use it. When? How? If only he knew. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It wasn't that easy. What's more, he had no assurance she would say yes.

Looking at her now, at her lovely smile, at love in her eyes, he should have been sure. But how could he? There were things going on her mind he had no idea about. What was she thinking now? If his thoughts differed so much from the conversation he was having with her, why wouldn't she be thinking about something unrelated too? "What are you thinking about?" he asked her. If reading her mind was not possible, a simple act of asking would do.

"How hard to please you are." Now it was her turn to ask. And his expression, unlike hers, revealed more that his mind was in fact set on something else than the earring and necklace issue. "What are you thinking about?"

He smiled. He had found the lost peace. "How much I love you," he simply said. Why to make things complicated when they are so simple.

They were ready now. Dressed up as if going to Sydney Opera House. It would be just a New Year's Eve Party, though a high-class one, but there was definitely no need, no requirement, for them to look this good. Dean had it thought out. If he were to propose tonight, he wanted everything to be perfect. Even the clothes. Most importantly, Dean had to make sure that he wouldn't make anything stupid and that when the time comes, when he's ready to pop the question, there's a smile on her face.

"Ok, we have to go now or we'll be late," Renee told him while putting stuff that he didn't get chance to notice into her purse.

"There's no coming late when it comes to a party."

"Tonight there is. We need to arrive before midnight."

Dean checked the clock. They had plenty of time. "Even if we couldn't get a cab, even if we had to come back because you have forgotten something, even if –"

Renee hushed him, with a finger pressed against his lips. "I get it."

There was insistence that not even good persuasion could change. Dean said, "I'll get a cab." Then he remembered he missed one more thing. A sheet of paper that he had laid in between his clothes in the closet. A place where he believed Renee would not found it. The paper was soaked in her perfume and covered in ink. Perfume was part of a strategy. It proved beneficial. As he hoped, it helped him to come up with words. To imagine her and imagine him saying those words that he would eventually say to her. A speech he had prepared as a backbone of engagement. Why he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Those words did not come easily to him. Not that he sat down by the desk with a blank A4 paper in front of him and a blue pen in his hand and had nothing to write, that he spent hours just sitting there, getting more and more frustrated because he realized he had nothing to say, or didn't know how to say it. The latter maybe, but in reality within five minutes he had written half a page. Then he threw it away and started over. And again. Each time from scratch. Then he came with a version that was better than those before, at least he thought so. And then he started crossing out words, substituting them for new ones that seemed more proper. It had far from appealing appearance. But the point was still there. And although he read it several times, learning it by heart in the process, he had to have the sheet of paper with him when, if, the moment arrives.

Renee realized she had lost him three minutes ago. Watching him, it became clear speaking to him would make no difference. He was too deep in his thoughts. Despite this, Renee decided to give it a shot. "Dean?" She was smiling while looking at him, knowing he would not respond. "Dean," she called again.

Out of nowhere, he returned to reality. "I have to get something." With a finger on his left hand he was pointing at the door leading to the bedroom.

In the look Renee gave him there was no understanding but there was acceptance. "I'll wait outside." She didn't ask for explanation. Just a little kiss on his cheek. . . .

"I'll be there in two minutes." He hugged her goodbye as though he was never meant to see her again, and smiled.

"In the meantime, I'll get the cab."

As soon as she left he turned left to enter the bedroom. Then he walked over to the closet and opened it. On the shelf under some sweaters he never wore awaited him the letter. Hidden, safeguarded, in an envelope that read Xmas 2014. Now it was a little outdated, but if he used it before the end of the year it would be alright. He was sure that until now nobody opened the envelope. He knew if Renee saw it, no, if she looked inside, he would notice. Because the look on her face would change once she'd open the first envelope and find the next one. The one that has Last Will and Testament printed on it. Only if she opened that envelope, something she definitely wouldn't have courage to do, she would see the letter addressed to her but not made for her to read.

He found it without problems. It was where he last put it. Undamaged – at least from the outside. The envelopes remained between his clothes; all he needed was the letter. To check if there was something he had forgotten. Or in case he starts speaking and the words don't come naturally to him. So that he can take the letter out and read it. So that everything works out just right.

Now he could leave. Finally he believed he had everything. The ring. The speech. Formal clothes that finally he found an occasion to wear and don't feel stupid in it. Perfect woman waiting outside.

He locked the door and walked outside just to find his perfect woman being hit on by the cab driver. Dean took no time and approached his girlfriend immediately, with an angry, suspicious look on his face that needed no order to appear.

"Finally," Renee gasped. She looked like she was having fun. She was still smiling; and this time it wasn't Dean who brought that emotion.

The two continued chatting for another minute. Dean had to ask, "Am I invisible?" This question was directed at the driver whose behavior was inappropriate.

"I'm sorry," said the driver, and got inside the cab.

The second Dean helped Renee inside, he heard her saying, "He's really jealous." Angrily he walked to his side and got in as well.

Only when Dean was sitting next to Renee he whispered, "I leave you alone for one second and –"

"And?" asked Renee in a tone that made Dean reconsider whether he really wanted to finish the sentence.

Dean remained quiet. Renee turned toward the driver again and said, adding to characteristics of her partner, "And he's insecure."

"Why are you telling him this?" Dean whispered so that the driver would not hear him.

"Because it's true."

"That does not matter. But why do you think he needs to know it?"

Renee had answer to this question too. "I don't want him to think you're not a nice guy." And added, "When you're the nicest guy I know."

"That's not true," disagreed Dean.

Renee smiled. "See, now that's something he doesn't need to know." Dean smiled as well. But the good mood disappeared when Renee decided to continue in her conversation with the driver. "He does this all the time," she spoke of Dean.

"And you don't mind?" asked the driver.

"You get used to it," she said, showing it really was no big deal to her. "It's complimenting sometimes. You know, he shows he cares."

Even from their backseats they could see the driver shaking his head.

"For one thing, I know you're not that different to him, Tim," said Renee.

"I don't get jealous."

"So you're telling me you didn't get jealous at all when Sally brought that guy from work home?"

Now Dean interrupted their discussion. "You two know each other?"

Renee chuckled. "Dean, Tim. Tim, Dean." She turned to Dean and said, "His girlfriend used to be my neighbor."

"Oh."

"Now he won't say anything for the rest of the ride," Renee said, and she was right. Dean felt too embarrassed to even look at either of them until they arrived to their destination.

She said goodbye, he waited at the sidewalk. She came to him with good mood. He was wondering. "Do you really think I am jealous?"

She answered while walking inside the hotel where the party was taking place. "It's a fact. You are a jealous type of guy." Since it was not good news, it could not cheer him up. "Dean, I don't mind."

"Yeah, I know, you got used to it," he pronounced despicably.

"Once this girl told me – I don't remember who it was or when it happened – that you – and she didn't know you – that you are either jealous guy, overly-protective one, or one that doesn't give a damn about his girlfriend. I prefer overly-protective one."

"But you'd be much more glad if I were just normal."

"What's normal?" she countered.

She meant it as a rhetorical question but Dean answered anyway. "A guy who accepts that his girlfriend talks to other guys without being suspicious of them."

"I never minded your way."

"Never minded," Dean pointed at the mistake in her choice of words.

Renee laughed. "Fine." She got more serious. "I love your way."

"That's better," he uttered in a joking kind of way to ease the atmosphere. But then, maybe under some invisible pressure, he added, "I'll try to work on my jealousy." He thought he would have to. If he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, or, better said, if he wants her to spend the rest of her life with him, he better leave the jealousy behind and be glad she's with him. Other guys talking to or even flirting with his girlfriend posed no threat as long as Renee felt affectionate only about him.

"Now leave those thoughts behind and let's have fun."

They entered the big hall where everybody was already partying, many were drunk even at this early stage.

"Would you like to drink something?" Dean said, offering to get an alcoholic drink for both of them.

"Sure," she replied, but she was faster in obtaining the drinks. She got them from waiter passing by with a tray of champagne. She took two glasses and handed one to Dean.

"So you get the cab and drinks tonight?" He chuckled. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Love me," she joked.

"Done," he replied. "What's my next task?"

"Find Robert and Sandra."

That Dean did not find very interesting. "Why? Just because we're among people does not mean we have to spend time with them."

Renee had to appreciate the humorous part of it. "You always do this." She drank a bit of her drink. "I forgot; what was your life like without me?"

Dean knew exactly what to say to appeal to her. "Boring."

"We had a plan. You can be spontaneous again as soon as the clock strikes twelve. Can you do that?" she asked.

A sigh served as a response. He would try. He'd postpone the spontaneity until later. But he couldn't promise everything would go exactly according to the plan; that meant according to her plan.

Her phone had already been ringing for about ten seconds but in such noise she noticed only now.

"That's not part of the plan," Dean attacked when she grabbed it to answer it. She smiled at him, but intended to answer it anyway.

"I'll be back in two minutes," she said, and left his sight.

Dean waited, not willing to take part in what was happening around him. He held his drink, but he wasn't too interested in drinking it either. For a simple reason, he didn't want to get drunk tonight. That perfect moment he had been waiting for could arrive at any moment, and his drunk self would not express himself that well.

Two minutes had passed, and he was still waiting. Unfortunately for the couple, the place was getting more and more crowded and the chance of encountering each other after short separation was slighter now than two minutes ago. Dean even got to calling her; that was a clear expression of his lack of belief in meeting his girlfriend that easily in this arena of bulls. Probably, though, she had already entered and for this she couldn't hear her phone ringing. Only now Dean was realizing what a huge mistake he had made when he let her go. Moreover, right now he couldn't see any people he'd know either. He was all alone in the large hall.

He'd wait for her. What was important was not moving much. She knew where she saw him last. If she followed that logic she would find him without difficulty.

Clearly she knew what to do in situations like these. Maybe it wasn't two minutes, but she returned in no more than ten.

"Sorry for waiting," she jokingly told him. As her hand was empty and he still had the glass half full – although she didn't know it was still his first one – she took the glass and finished the champagne. Maybe that was a mistake. "Would you mind if I left for another minute?"

"Yes."

She could have predicted that answer. But she needed to go to the restroom. "I need to . . ." she said with urgency. Although it was so loud she felt uncomfortable finishing the sentence.

"I'll wait outside. Because there's no way I'm risking losing you again."

He lost her again.

Standing and waiting in front of the door to the ladies' room proved not such an easy task. A distraction arrived with Rob's notice of him. Dean could not pretend to not know him once he got recognized by Renee's friend. Or more like a boyfriend of Renee's friend. To Dean, though, both Robert and Sandra were nothing more than acquaintances.

"Dean," Rob, a tall thirty-something guy with short brown hair and businessman appearance, greeted him.

"Hey. What's up?" Dean replied with a question he did not care about. He didn't sound as enthusiastic as the other guy. Then again, he did not try.

"Good to see you here. Happy New Year, in case I won't see you again till midnight. It's crazy here, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

The man in light green shirt and dark green tie noticed that there was something missing in Dean's hand. "Would you like to drink something?"

"I'm waiting for Renee." Dean pointed at the door to his left.

Like Robert cared. He placed his left hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him away from the somewhat quiet area. "She'll join us later. How is she anyway?"

They were walking further and further away from where Dean was supposed to wait. Now he found himself with a glass of something stronger than champagne in his hand. "Where's your girlfriend . . . Sasha?" Dean asked hesitantly. No, that's not her name, Dean realized almost immediately, however, still too late.

"Sandra," Rob corrected him, but laughed. "She's not here. She stayed at home. She had to work or something . . . I don't know."

"Oh, that's right, she's not from New York, is she?"

"No," was a short answer. The guy did not seem interested in this topic too much.

"Is everything alright?" What strange impulse made Dean ask this question he didn't know. For one thing, he didn't even care.

"It's great, really. I'm pretty sure right now she's fucking someone in Colorado, but then again, I'm here with someone else. In the end, what matters is that we're celebrating our fifth anniversary in March and that we still love each other."

Even to Dean that relationship sounded wrong. And he used to think he was not a good boyfriend. He had to smile when he realized that in reality his relationship with Renee was almost perfect.

They just finished their glasses when the guy shouted, "There she is. My lovely Sharona." The blonde girl smiled at them and continued walking over to them. On the way, she grabbed two glasses of champagne that she put down on the table near which the guys were standing.

"Hi," the girl, or rather a woman for she appeared even older than the guy, said to Dean, whom she never met before.

"Hey." Dean turned to the person he knew longer. "I better go find Renee." He grabbed the almost full glass that belonged to him.

"Come to see us later." Sure we will, a sarcastic thought crossed Dean's mind.

All he wanted was his girlfriend. All he got were people who he didn't know and had no interest in getting to know them. . . . He knew he wasn't supposed to leave.

Once again, he concluded that the best thing to do would be trying to reach her on her phone. How happy and relieved Dean felt when he heard Renee's ringtone.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized as soon as he turned to see her face. The one he missed so much. "I know I was supposed to wait," he continued in his sincere apology.

"That's alright."

There was something different about her. Voice less cheerful and face looking more tired. Regardless of the visible evidences, Dean did not notice anything.

"It's all because of Rob."

"Robert?" That name caught Renee's attention. "Where are they?"

"He saw me so he made me go with him to drink something. But he's here alone," he told her. "Well, not alone. His girlfriend Sa . . ."

Seeing the hesitation Renee decided to help him. However, Dean remembered quickly enough so they ended up saying the name simultaneously. "Sandra."

"Yeah," Dean continued. "She's working or something so Rob brought his date."

"What?"

"I know. It's all so weird. I guess they have some problems, although," he said in a cheered tone, "he seems to be okay with it. He didn't even get angry talking about how Sandra probably cheats on him."

Renee was disgusted. So was Dean, but he did not let it show.

"If you want to talk to him, I'm sure he'll be glad, he's somewhere over there." Dean stretched out his arm to point, and gave some pretty unclear and possibly misleading directions. "I don't know. I've already got bad impression of him. And your friend too. Does she know about this?" Renee remained quiet so Dean posed another question. "Is she really cheating on him? Damn! Now I really see how lucky we are to be together and not deal with those things. . . . Urgh." A surprise laughter followed. "Wouldn't it be great if Sandra came just as those two would be in the middle of sex?" At that moment Dean realized he should not talk about it this openly, or at least he could speak more quietly. "I should stop." Then something strange occurred to him. "Am I gossiping?"

It brought a reserved smile on Renee's face. "You're cute."

"That's not what I was going for." He smiled too. "Seriously, I'm done." Just to make sure, he asked again. "Do you want to see him?"

"No." She also shook her head. Peacefully. If he looked cute, she did too. However, more tired.

Now he noticed. "It's too early for you to be sleepy." Renee resignedly nodded. "Let's get this party going." Finally he found that task for himself that he had been looking for earlier. To wake up the sleepy beauty. Oh, she looked peacefully wonderful. "I'll get something for you."

"Don't go –" she called urgently, but Dean was not going far. Just to get something for her to drink. As he already had a glass of champagne in his hand – still almost full.

When she accepted the glass he got for her, which cost some persuasion on Dean's part, Dean decided for a simple toast. "To the amazing night. To I'll never lose you again." He leaned forward to whisper, "I promise."

He emptied the glass. Renee hesitated. Her lips only touched the liquid inside the glass, liquid that the nose had smelt without being aware of it. She couldn't drink it. Something made her reconsider the decision to drink the champagne that repulsed her. She felt sick. "I don't want it," she said, and literally pushed the glass into Dean's hand. It was still too late. Her feet changed direction. She hurried into the bathroom.

Keeping his promise was not a factor that played role in Dean's decision to follow her. He was worried, that's what prevented him from stopping in front of the door where he had waited before. Now he entered the ladies' room. . . . Stupid women and their scream at the sight of a man inside a room where no men were allowed. Dean really wished to take care of his girlfriend, to find out what was going on with her, but those women, and especially one older lady that almost started hitting him with her purse, wouldn't allow him to take the responsibility that was thrust upon him as a caring boyfriend.

Once again, he waited. What changed was the attitude. The urgency. The concerns. He was dying to be with her. What was the point of knowing something was wrong with her when he couldn't help her?

"Renee," he called, but it wasn't her who just walked out the door. He tried to peek inside, however, he saw nothing.

She left the room five minutes later. "Renee." His voice sounded urgent, terrified to death. "Are you alright?" It was a stupid question, he realized that.

Renee's eyes focused on the glasses in Dean's hands. When he noticed the wish in her eyes for him to put them away, he did so. "How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes." Then she changed her mind. "I don't know. Maybe not."

"What happened? You drank too much?"

"No." She wasn't lying. Maybe she drank more than him, but still little compared to other people.

Still, reason was of no importance. Dean wanted to make her feel better. When he took her into his arms, all symptoms revealed to him. The coldness of her skin. Paleness. Shivering underneath his fingers. He looked into her eyes, but sweat on her forehead caught his attention. "You wanna go home?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Feeling fine wasn't the reason why she nodded.

"You're not alright. We can go home, Renee."

"No." She changed nodding into shaking head. "It's barely eleven. We're here to celebrate New Year. That's that pl –"

"Plan?" Dean interrupted. Then came the laughter. "Darling, I don't care about some plan." He would need to try harder to persuade her. "I don't want to see you suffer." He spoke with all seriousness. "Or even worse, falling onto the floor. I worry about you," he added when he noticed she wanted to say something to disagree. "You're tired. You don't feel well. So what if we leave early?"

"But it's New Year's Eve."

"I know, my love." That loving look on his face . . . he didn't give a damn about celebrating the last day of the year. "Let's go."

She lingered a second longer, but nothing changed. All that mattered to him was her well-being. And she didn't feel well enough to stay. Partying sounded as a joke to her right now.

They left immediately. Renee felt worse and worse. At one point she even started to doubt whether she'd be able to reach her apartment. At least she had a guy to take care of her. Even carry her home if it were necessary. . . . And even if not.

The traffic delayed their arrival but they finally reached the sweet home. It was not midnight yet. Still, even inside they could hear the loud noises from all parts of New York. It was New Year's Eve, everybody was celebrating . . . except them. Dean became a caring nurse that helped the patient to the bed. He prepared a hot drink for her, however, when he entered the bedroom Renee was asleep. The closed windows isolated some of the noise but for Dean it was still not enough. Renee did not care. She was snuggled in the bed. Hopefully she would get some rest.

Only when he was sure his lovely princess was alright, he took care of himself. Got rid of the clothes, drank the tea he had prepared for Renee. It took some time before he went to bed too. At one point fireworks distracted him and made him realize it was New Year. He stopped for three seconds, smiled, and then continued in his previous activity. Dean did not go to bed immediately. First he just sat down by Renee and watched her, caressed her hair, observed whether the symptoms had disappeared. Most of them seemed to be gone now. What remained was paleness but he was sure that would be gone in the morning too.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and stroked her cold cheek. The rest of her body was warm underneath the duvet.

The last thing he did was making sure the alarm was off and that there was nothing that could wake Renee up.

Dean was already awake when Renee opened her eyes and started stretching in bed.

"Happy New Year," Dean wished her. Of course he was by her side from early morning. Now he sat down and held her hand. A kiss was a gesture meaning good morning.

"What's the time?"

"Nine."

Renee looked disappointed. "That's awkward. I slept through midnight."

That made Dean chuckle. "It was cute, actually." He moved away from her to get his phone. "I made you something." He opened a picture. Renee was asleep, Dean was sitting next to her, his arm around her, a bottle of champagne in his hand.

There was a change connected to seeing alcohol again. Something she hated for stopping her from having New Year's Eve she wanted. Something that prevented her from celebration with her caring boyfriend. "Were you here with me all night?"

"Of course."

'Why didn't you go back? You could have celebrated . . ."

"You're stupid if you think I would return there without you."

She blushed at the compliment. "Thank you."

Gratitude was present but for him not necessary. "You feel better now?" Dean turned into doctor again. Were the signs of weakness gone?

"Mhm." She nodded, but let him keep his hand on her forehead. Then it slipped on her cheek which it stroked with the back of the hand.

"Would you like some tea or coffee? Or something stronger?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head furiously. "Tea . . . maybe."

"And for breakfast?"

"Tea."

"That's it?"

"I'm not hungry," she explained. She omitted the part that she still didn't feel that well, at least not back to normal.

What if I prepared you some eggs and bacon?"

That suggestion almost made her sick again. "Dean, thanks, but no," she refused politely.

"Okay."

One last kiss on the cheek before he disappeared into kitchen, to get her light breakfast consisting of tea ready. Not even two minutes have passed and he could already hear her turning water on in the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to boil, Dean returned to the bedroom and made the bed. He opened the window to to let fresh air in. Cold wind blew in his face but it was a nice feeling. The city was calmer now but still far from being quiet.

On the way back to the kitchen he turned on the radio and waited for his girlfriend to arrive. He got the tea ready and put the mug down on the table. He had already eaten so he sat down without having a plate with food in front of him. Just a cup of coffee.

Dean stood up the moment he heard Renee leaving the bathroom. Before she could enter the kitchen her boyfriend was standing in the door, watching her as she put on a sweater and checked her phone. It was full of calls and messages, New Year wishes and links to pictures and funny gifs. All that could wait.

"I feel like I've missed a whole year."

"Just the best hours of it," joked Dean.

"And you . . . if it weren't for me, you'd be having fun –"

"I don't mind." He was honest with her. "Besides, I'm glad you've learned a lesson." To explain, he said, "You can't plan."

"I suppose you're right."

She came over to him, and let him kiss her. On lips this time.

"So what are your plans for today?" Dean asked. It was hard to tell if he really meant the question or had only teasing intentions.

"I don't have any. As you've said, I've learned my lesson . . . no more planning. . . . It would go to waste anyway," she added.

They walked into the kitchen. He would sat down, but when he noticed she'd drink her tea standing up, he changed his mind. "Would you like to go out? I was thinking that if you feel alright we could go celebrate our New Year. Drink something –"

At that point Renee stopped him. "I'm not drinking anything today."

"Okay, that's fine." He smiled at her. "How about hot chocolate instead?" He was sure this suggestion would cheer her up.

"No. I don't know. I don't want to drink or eat anything today." Not even the cup of tea she held in her hand, she realized.

"Wouldn't you prefer going back to bed?"

"No." She was certain. "I'm alright, Dean. Really. I just don't feel like eating – that's all."

"Do you feel well enough to go out?"

"Yes," she said, forbidding herself to sound even slightly hesitant. "But no drinking, no eating in a restaurant."

"Just fresh air," he assured her.

"I like that."

"So you're ready to go?"

She looked at her clothes and laughed. "No." She was under-dressed for going somewhere people could see her. Knee socks. Sweater. Short skirt that she put on just because it was the first thing she found. "And you're good to go?"

"Yes," he replied.

"In this?" Renee asked, making sure because the clothes did not seem as proper to her as to him. A stain on his T-shirt was only one thing that caught her attention.

"Yes."

Something was different. Few months ago she would have minded. Now it didn't matter to her. "Okay. But I need to change." Maybe somewhere deep inside she expected him to say no, you don't. He didn't say anything. There was a simple reason. He knew better than to send his girlfriend outside in short skirt and risk her health.

She turned to go into the bedroom but Dean called, "Could you grab me a jacket?"

She was ready in five minutes. Putting too much effort into getting ready seemed unnecessary. Her clothes was adequate in regard to weather, and that was what mattered. The hair looked fine. Make-up . . . a simple one sufficed. And Dean's jacket, she reminded herself before leaving the room. When she was almost by the door she remembered another thing. Her phone. Full of unread messages. Just from curiosity she wanted to check who they were from and what they were about. New Year, evidently. . . . One caught her attention.

"You've sent me a text message?" she called toward the kitchen. "Dean?"

Immediately he appeared in the door. "Oh, yeah."

It was the same picture Dean had showed her before. A self-invited question popped into her mind. "You didn't send this to other people, have you?" Her "drunk" New Year picture was far from being something she wanted her friends to see.

Her eyes were begging for a negative answer. The tension was rising proportionally to the time that has passed.

"No."

Now she sighed, feeling relieved. There was another reason. The feeling of satisfaction, calmness because of realization she could trust him. They were a team. If one fell, they both did. If one were hurt, the other would be lying on the ground in pain.

"Let's go," she said. Her phone was in the pocket. She hasn't even noticed that it had been muted. That was a step Dean undertook in order to make sure ringing and beeping wouldn't wake his girlfriend up. He was caring enough to guarantee the calm environment required for healing process.

Her words did not reflect the actions. Legs did not move. Eyes were set on Dean. Arms reached for him and hands touched his body. Unresponsive was not a word defining what was happening with him. But he was controlling himself. He accepted the kiss that Renee demanded. And then he asked, "Can we go now?"

It took her a lot to say, "Yes. But we'll have some business when we return."

Dean smiled. "I count on that."

Finally, they left the apartment. It was nice outside. Less people than usually. Hangover people probably stayed at home. Cool weather allowed for sensation of freshness. And they could walk hand in hand, enjoying other person's closeness. At first they only walked. For they haven't set a goal for their journey, and they had no need to hurry anywhere, this was a carefree activity. For now.

Maybe things have changed since yesterday; they were no longer wearing formal clothes, they didn't have that gala appearance, and it wasn't New Year's Eve either. But they were together. They were happy and they loved each other. None of that has changed. The engagement was still on. Dean was aware of that as they walked down the street. He had the ring and the speech. He was still thinking about it . . . how, when, and so on. But he wished for that perfect moment. Their clothes became perfect in his eyes. Her smile made up for everything. The desire that took the highest spot in his mind was a simple, one-syllable word. Yes.

Now what about that perfect place? He knew of one that kept somehow special place for both of them. A tall building. One of New York's skyscrapers.

He was a bit surprised when he got her there. The last time they were on Empire State Building things did not go well. Well, this was an opportunity to make a nicer memory of the place.

Today she was smiling. "Do you remember the last time we were here?" She was able to ask without losing her good mood.

Dean followed her to the edge of the observation deck. From behind he wrapped his arms around her and laced his fingers with hers. "Yes."

Maybe sentimentality was the main reason why she decided to open the topic. Or to see how things have changed since then. How much better they have gotten.

"That day we almost broke up." She herself realized that she, just as her boyfriend, did not want to talk about it. So, easing the atmosphere, she added, "Well, I hope today will end better."

It would. And maybe he was even glad for her bringing up the subject. Their memory of the not so nice first visit to the building would be changed forever. Today would become something nostalgia would make them return to in their minds. Yes, it was the perfect place.

"I have something for you," Renee said, as she turned around to look at him.

That's funny, he thought, 'cause I have something for you too. . . . That would have to wait. Well, there was no hurry anyway.

"I know Christmas is long gone, but there is one present I haven't given you yet."

"That's not necessary. . . ."

"I know. I want to give it to you."

"I don't need anything."

"The box waited underneath the tree until this morning. I can't believe I forgot and you didn't notice."

"Renee, I already have everything."

"So do I." That was what the present was supposed to represent. From her bag she took out the said box. Wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and tied with a ribbon. Not to miss anything, she added a red bow. The name of the recipient was not necessary. This was a present she would not give him in public, in front of anybody. That was why she left it at home when she visited Dean at Seth's place. That was why she didn't give it to him in the first place together with the rest of the presents that were meant to be opened in Iowa. Maybe this wasn't the best time to give it to him, but the place wasn't crowded and those people would not care anyway. So she gave it to him. "Merry Christmas. Again."

"Renee." He kept the impression of not wanting to receive the present, even being offended by it, but he took it. Honestly, he was a bit curious to see what was inside. "Thank you." He finally surrendered.

First, he shook the box . . . of course he did. It was light and nothing seemed to have broken by his deliberate action.

She hated the waiting. More and more she was losing confidence. This wasn't a gift he would give to her boyfriend without having doubts about it. She battled with her brain telling her it was stupid. Well, it was. But so what?

"What's going on?" he asked when he noticed her upset face.

"I can't stand it. Just open it, please . . . or I'll take it back."

"Am I teasing you?"

"No. But I feel stupid for giving you this."

Dean smirked. "Stupid?" he repeated, and shook his head.

She felt like a teenage girl. Well, it was something a teenage girl would give to her boyfriend, she guessed. But what was she supposed to do when she felt that way?

"A teddy bear?" There was indeed a white polar bear, fluffy and cute. And so warm. Renee blushed under the pressure of Dean's look. The smile that grew wider ever since it saw the content of the box. "Thank you, darling." His senses noticed something. When he verified the assumption he learned that the judgment of his senses was correct. "It smells like you."

"It's stupid," Renee repeated. Just to be proved wrong by her boyfriend. He was delighted with this kind of present. So sweet and thoughtful. Not serious albeit playful.

"It's the one thing I don't have. Thank you. I love you." He hugged her, but kiss was needed, he realized. To show appreciation, to show it was not stupid at all and that it made him happy. One had to notice that it brought joy to his face. "Thank you so much." His lips again connected with hers. This time he engaged his tongue and wished to thank in a different way too. For now all he could do was to look and touch as though there were small kids around. The privacy they'd gain later, when they get home, would make up for this moment. Their lips parted slowly . . . it took them some time. Their will was strong and it kept fighting against those who preferred separation. The success meant defeat. But now that they gave each other some space and Dean wanted to put the bear back in the box, he noticed the fluffy animal wasn't it. "There's something else."

That was even more embarrassing. Renee's cheeks turned pink again.

"What is it?" Dean asked, even though he knew Renee would not answer and he was already looking at a postcard. A loving, curious smile found its safe place on his face once more. The paper was thick and it looked luxurious. But the appearance was inferior to the content. Dean started reading it to himself in silence but soon he changed his mind. Without looking around – there weren't many people anyway – he cleared his throat, making himself sound serious and frivolous at once, and started at the beginning. "A real boyfriend:" he said, reading that part for the second time. He decided to change the attitude. Saying it teasingly would be a really stupid thing to do. This mattered to Renee. He appreciated her trying. Moreover, nobody was there to judge him, to laugh at the superficiality or over-sentimentality. "A real boyfriend:" Dean repeated with grave voice. Before continuing, he looked at Renee, at her insecure face. "Calls you for nothing," Dean said, smiling, "texts you all the time, wants to see you, cries, gets jealous, is overprotective and loves you."

The initial instinct was the one he decided to follow. His left hand on her cheek, the right closing her eyes. Mouth losing the fight to the attraction toward her soft albeit cold lips. When he parted his lips, he unintentionally blew some cold air into her mouth. Like she cared. Her mouth was inviting him to enter, to join the party. The strength of the desire was strong, but not even that could force his brain shut. The need for the appreciation of what she was doing for him. The love shared by both sides. The necessity of being together. Forever. The understanding, the honesty, the acceptance of the flaws, both own and of the other person. Yes, he was jealous, yes, he was overprotective. They both knew it.

"And I love him," Renee added.

The perfect moment. He waited for over a month, maybe even two . . . he did not remember and it did not matter. But now he had her standing in front of him, loving him at least as much as at the end of the year, if not more. And he felt the same toward her. He loved her more and more each day, each second. He got all he ever wanted. Her. Now he could get the guarantee of that to never change. But it wasn't that easy. Would she say yes? Look at her, his brain told him. Her face, her eyes revealed the answer to him. She was a poor liar. Her love was pure. So he got that. He had perfect place, perfect time. There was the perfect moment. His left hand reached into the left pocket of his pants. The sheet of paper that was probably the only thing that wasn't perfect. But it would serve well. In this case, only purpose mattered. Then the time came for the right pocket. The one hiding the treasure. Only the girl in front of Dean was more precious. The small dark blue leather box. He was tossing it around inside the pocket, not because of desire to play with it but because of nervousness. He breathed in, and out even more deeply. This is it. The perfect moment has arrived. The next in line was perfect, unforgettable scene performed by master actor. That would lead to the grandiose, ultimate perfect moment.