New Year Second Chance

Prologue

Jenna

Last year…

“I’ll see you soon, Mom!” I shout into my phone above the bustle of the crowd at the deli. “I love you. Happy New Year!”

I end the call then quickly slip my phone inside my jacket.

Count on my mom to be ahead of everyone else. It’s barely past three in the afternoon on the thirty-first of December and she’s already called to greet me a happy new year. Twice. This from the same woman who always sends Christmas cards out in August, starts planning for my next birthday the day after the one I just had, puts dinner on the stove before ten in the morning and has been collecting hair trinkets for me to choose from on my wedding day since before I was born.

Gold ones. Silver. Pearl-studded ones and ones with sparkly rhinestones. Flower pins. Butterfly pins. Hearts. Tiny hats. Ribbons of all sizes made from silk or chiffon. There is even a pair of chopsticks with the ends carved into doves, tied together with a string of tiny hearts. I thought they were adorable up until I was about eight or nine, the same age I started favoring jeans over dresses and leggings. Also the same age I started wearing glasses and ditched fairy tales for Agatha Christie.

My elder sister, Sarah, eventually tried to steer me into reading her romance collection, but I went with science fiction instead. Asimov. Clarke. Herbert. Vonnegut. It’s them that got me into physics, which is what I’m taking up now. In a few years, I plan to work for NASA and help send Americans further into space.

For now, though, I have to buy cheese and cold cuts for the grandest midnight snack of the year.

“Hey, Jenna,” the guy behind the counter, Nash, who’s sporting a quirky pair of reindeer eyeglasses, greets me. “What can I get you today?”

I scrutinize his new accessory – hard not to when it’s covering half his face. “Sure you don’t want to get rid of something first?”

“This?” He takes the glasses off. “What? You wanna trade?”

I wave a hand in front of my face. “No, thanks.”

I like mine plain. Thin golden frame. Oval lenses. The ones I have on now are the same kind I’ve been wearing since the second grade.

“Anyway, I can’t.” Nash puts them back on. “My daughter gave them to me for Christmas and made me promise to wear them until the year is over.”

My eyebrows arch. “Even at home?”

“Even when I’m napping on the couch.”

The corners of my mouth droop. “Poor you. But hey, at least the year is almost over.”

“Yup. So what can I get you before it ends?”

I take a moment to remember the list I prepared in my head.

“Six ounces of Feta, six of Brie, three of Gruyere, three of Gorgonzola. And half a pound of prosciutto. And a pack of that dry salami. Also, that small jar of olives.”

Nash grins. “Someone’s having a party.”

“Look around.” I glance over my shoulder. “Everyone is.”

“Yup.” He grabs the bar of Feta and slices two inches off it. “So, are your folks here?”

“No, but they’ll be down from Jersey next week.”

Along with my sister, Sarah, who I haven’t seen in ages.

“So it’s just you and Dax?” Nash asks while he grabs another bar of cheese.

Dax. My boyfriend of nearly two years. My first boyfriend. The first guy I’ve ever been interested in, actually, and dare I say my first love. Just the mention of his name sends my heart sputtering.

“Yeah,” I answer then purse my lips to conceal a smile.

“Nice,” Nash remarks as he tosses the salami into my basket. “Is it your first New Year’s Eve together?”

I nod. Last year, I spent the holidays at home. So did Dax.

“Is he bringing some wine?” Nash asks.

“Yup.”

He gives me a meaningful grin. “I bet that isn’t all he’s bringing.”

It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s trying to say. Is Nash suggesting that Dax is going to make a move on me tonight? The thought sparks heat in my cheeks.

He has, of course. But after I pushed him away that first time last March, during our first year anniversary, he hasn’t tried again. There have been times when I can tell he wants to, times when I can feel him tearing himself away from me after we kiss. Each time, I feel torn apart myself. I want to take things further. I want to feel his body against mine. I’ve imagined it more than a few times. But I’m scared. What if things get awkward? What if Dax and I aren’t compatible in bed? What if he ends up leaving me because I’m bad at sex? For all I know, I may be.

I’m terrified of losing Dax. I know that. But how long am I going to let that stop me from having him?