Page 16 of Terms and Traditions

Liz pursed her lips. “So you’re doing this to appease your dad? Showing up with his rival as your romantic partner is a weird way to do it.”

“I’m not,” I said through gritted teeth. But a sliver of me knew she had hit the truth. I’d been chasing Hiram’s approval for decades. Then I told her the rest. About Samantha and Anika’s conversation in the breakroom last night. My own doubts and fears.

Liz didn’t interrupt the tidal wave of various ramblings I poured out, but when it was all out, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “I want to smack that so-called friend of yours so hard she won’t see straight. What even happened between you two for her to be so nasty? By the time I met you, she was already a piece of work.”

I laughed at her violent wishes. Liz had a protective streak Mississippi River wide, and I’d almost pity Anika if she got caught in her wake. “I wish I knew. One day we were okay, the next, she just… ignored me and turned our mutual friends against me.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But truth be told, the events of over a decade ago still bothered me. If I’d had closure, it wouldn’t have hurt so bad, but the never knowing why I wasn’t worth staying friends with… Well, it didn’t do great things for my mental health. Just one more person who decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for. “High school sucked until I met you.”

“Right back atcha, sister.” Liz plopped down beside me on the bed.

“But what if Samantha and Anika are right?” I whispered, tugging at my sweater cuff. “What if I am too much? I have a ton of baggage, and I’m working on it, truly. I thought I was past this, you know? But then—”

“Steph.” Liz’s tone sharpened, and her eyes were serious. “Don’t give their words credence over the voices of those who know and love you best. You’re not too much. Your standards aren’t too high. If anything, you could expect a little more from people. I’m saying that. Me, Liz Kelso. Your Nana says that. And most importantly God says that. You’re exactly the person He created you to be. Growing like the rest of us but made perfectly in His image. He likes you as you are—loves you. So do I. Don’t let their bitter words rob you of a peace their acceptance could never give.”

I leaned my head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Liz paused. “And do you want it to be real? With you and Nash?”

The yes was thick on my tongue, but I couldn’t force it out. So, like a coward, I shrugged and stared at my hands. “I want… I just…” Past memories flashed to life with rapid clarity.

My parents had divorced when I was five, and Hilary—I didn’t even remember calling her Mom—left without a second thought. I hadn’t seen her since. Hiram had shuffled me off to my paternal grandparents in Denver and became a passing phantom, only showing up for Christmas or birthdays, if he remembered. I was the youngest of the Addams brood, and while I loved my grandparents, that early abandonment had shaped my world. My earliest memories were of my parents arguing. Screaming loudly one night in particular.

Hoping for some comfort, I’d crept into my oldest half sister Zoe’s room, since it was her weekend to visit Hiram. But Zoe had just scowled at me when she popped off her headphones at my interruption, and with all the jaded wisdom of a thirteen-year-old child of divorce said, “All adults fight. Get used to it. Everyone leaves eventually.”

Not the comfort my five-year-old heart wanted to hear, but I’d believed her. Despite the love of my grandparents and brother and sister-in-law, I’d spent the next twenty-three years waiting for the other shoe to drop. If the ones who were supposed to love me the most left, why would anyone else want to stay?

“Oh, Steph.” There was understanding and a little disappointment in Liz’s tone, which hurt, but I couldn’t blame her. With a little sigh, she gave me a final squeeze before hip bumping me.

I hated letting my fears win, but I wasn’t brave enough to open myself up to that kind of hurt. Nash Prescott didn’t strike me as the leaving kind. But everyone leaves eventually. It’s safer this way.

“Now fill the second case and don’t overthink it. I’ll be praying for you all week because I’m worried about your heart.” Liz handed me a folded pair of jeans, a small frown wrinkling her forehead.

You and me both, sister. But as I finished packing, we belted out “Sisters” (with choreography, of course) and the world seemed a little less dark.

Chapter seven

Text Thread

Later that night…

NASH

You mentioned skiing… is it something you don’t do or can’t?

STEPHANIE

Let’s just say a bad ski instructor as a child, a propensity for fainting from low blood pressure, and a run-in with a hyperactive puppy scarred my ten-year-old-self.

NASH

Noted. Would you be open to a different instructor sans puppy?

STEPHANIE

No promises, but maybe? I’m not known for my balance. As you are now aware.

And before I forget, ugly sweaters are a must for Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day dinner is formal, nearly black tie.

NASH