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Summary
New Year’s Eve was never a holiday she looked forward to; more than any other date, it seemed to inspire a certain loneliness in her, even when she’d had someone to share the evening with.
She’d never admit it, of course, that she sometimes fantasized about the magic of a New Year’s kiss shown in movies and recounted in songs. It was a horrible cliche meant for teenagers and pathetic cat owners, not Miranda Priestly.
Twenty blocks north, Andy nursed a glass of wine alone on the couch of her new studio apartment and wondered what Miranda was doing.
or: seven New Year's Eves with Miranda and Andy.