Page 47 of Terms and Traditions

“I think your ego can handle it.”

“Handle losing or your embarrassment?”

Stephanie shook her head, stomping ahead of me. “There’s money if you beat her, Prescott. Don’t let your guard down.”

I smirked, hurrying to catch up and lace our fingers together. “Good thing only one Addams has to love me then, huh?”

I counted her attractive blush as a win.

If I thought Stephanie’s reaction was priceless, her family’s were even more so. In true Addams form, they were loud about it, especially little Eden, who promptly burst into tears, thanks to the number of elf eyeballs I was wearing. I’d make it up to her later. My main mission now was crushing Charmain Russo Addams. Wow, that Addams spirit was really rubbing off on me.

Stephanie kept her arm lightly hooked around my bicep as we wandered around the living room taking stock of the competition because we’d be voting on who had the ugliest sweater. Once we’d seen everyone and filled out our secret ballot, Stephanie led me into the kitchen. It was humming with activity. Trays and platters of desserts and appetizers littered the counters. Austin basted two baking dishes loaded with chicken wings—barbeque and honey mustard—before popping them back in the oven. Zoe adjusted the stack of poinsettia-print napkins and paper plates with preciseness. Nana twirled her spatula, saying something I didn’t catch, but it spurred three bodies into action. It was mayhem. And it smelled like heaven.

Hailey materialized beside us and dragged Stephanie after her. “Time for bruschetta. It’s tradition!”

I wandered after them, watching as the two cousins stood hip to hip at the counter and piled the creamy mayo, cheese, tomato, and olive bruschetta filling onto sliced baguettes, laughing freely. I rubbed my sternum absently as if I could ease away the gnawing sensation their banter created. How could I miss what I never had? Since losing my family, my closest relationships had been with Ryan and Emmett and their families. It had been enough, and I was incredibly blessed by them. But now… I wanted more.

As Hailey shuffled the first two trays of bruschetta into the second oven, Stephanie glanced around until she caught my eye, then she smiled. It was a forever kind of smile, a hundred words conveyed in a simple gesture… and something inside me clicked into place.

I’d been reluctant to date for the last ten years, determined to not let another woman break me the way Alexis had. I’d convinced myself I was happy where I was, content… and I was. But I could also admit I wished for more. Despite all my defenses, all my reservations, Stephanie Addams had shown up, and without me even fully realizing it, she’d waltzed into my heart and taken up shop.

I was gonna marry this woman. If only she could be convinced to take a chance on me, too.

Chapter twenty-one

Stephanie

Nash should have won the ugly sweater contest.

And I wasn’t just saying that out of loyalty. The man taped elves with eyeballs to his body. Willingly. Shudder. He deserved a medal. But no. Four of my siblings decided in a show of displeasure to rig the contest with enough votes to not have Nash win. Ugh. Family politics.

As everyone clustered around the kitchen island waiting for the crowning glory of an Addams family Christmas Eve—the bruschetta—Nash confessed to having Ryan's and Emmett’s kids assist him.

Ryder, overhearing, nodded his head way too wisely for a twelve-year-old, looking like a mini version of his dad. “I’ve got to meet these kids. They’re going places with ideas like that.”

Nash patted his shoulder. “Y’all might be too powerful together.”

It wasn’t often Nash’s Texas twang slipped out, only when he was really comfortable. Watching him with my nephew made me smile. He was great with kids. He’d be a great dad, too. I pumped the brakes on that thought. This was Christmas with my family, not a marriage proposal.

But would I be so averse to that? I’d crushed—for lack of a better word, as Liz pointed out—on Nash for the last two years, despite my own dating qualms. With an unstable childhood, every part of me craved stability. And the guys I’d gone out with on occasion over the years couldn’t give me that. I’d always been the dumpee and then told I was too picky, too high-strung. But was wanting a man who believed in "till death do us part," not “until the next shiny thing catches my attention and I dump you for her,” so bad? In Gabe and Ivy and Nana and Papa, I’d seen real, true love. The kind that stays. As secure as I was in their love for me, that little-girl part of my heart still huddled in the corner, crying as she was passed off to another relative to raise. Those feelings of insecurity and inconvenience threatened to choke me right there in the kitchen.

I desperately wanted to love and be loved, but that weight of not being worth staying for smothered those thoughts like water fizzing out a wildfire. I was a successful woman with loving family, supportive friends, and a solid grasp on my identity in Jesus. I had a version of stability, even if it felt counterfeit compared to watching my friends find their happily ever afters.

Yet, I’d turned down Nash’s offer of real, why? Because of fear. And Hiram’s manipulative mind game. Everyone leaves. What if Nash leaves, too?

Nash touched my elbow, and I jolted, finding his warm eyes searching my face with concern.

“Sorry, did I miss something?” I asked, trying to gather my scattered thoughts from the realms of the four winds.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb rubbing light circles over the fabric of my sweater.

I pasted on a phony smile. “Sure.” But I wasn’t convinced and neither was he.

He lifted his hand, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers. “You look like you’re alone in a room full of people.”

That was exactly how I felt sometimes. Like an outsider looking in. Like I was here but didn’t fully belong. Because I was the family pariah, waffling between loved and ignored. “You seem familiar with the feeling.”

Nash grimaced. “Very familiar. Did something happen?” He scanned the noisy room briefly as if looking for someone who’d hurt me. Protective Nash was an attractive thing to behold.