Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Nash
It was cozy and familiar. And was that…? I sniffed. Yup, definitely potpourri and hot mulled cider. For a brief moment, I was transported back in time to another Christmas. When, for a few years, my mom and I lived with her parents. Their Christmases were like this. Magical and… welcoming.
A wintery cartoon played on the living room TV, entertaining a gaggle of children clustered around it.
I squinted—huh, an animated snowman singing about summer.
I had so many questions about that. Two kids pelted up the stairs, shouting, “Humbug, humbug, humbug!” Okay, they were clearly Scrooge fans in this house.
But against the homey backdrop and the delicious heat from the monstrous grey stone fireplace, heated arguing boiled out from the kitchen at the back of the cabin. That was more what I’d expected from the Addamses.
I rested my hand on Stephanie’s lower back in a show of solidarity and support, ushering her ahead of me. And not a moment too soon because I barely caught a breath before a shrill shout erupted. “Auntie Steph!”
Before I could blink, Stephanie was mauled by four kids—two boys with wheat hair and azure eyes, a dark-skinned girl with dozens of small braids, and an olive-skinned toddler with her shiny ebony hair pulled into two fountain pigtails.
All four chattered over each other, throwing their arms around their aunt.
I’d seen Work Mode Steph the last two years, Friend Steph over dinners and board games with our friends, and Casual Steph in the car.
But Family Steph? Her hazel eyes sparkled as her nieces and nephews clamoured for her attention.
She ruffled hair, kissed cheeks, and entered into their world with such ease I could barely believe this was the same woman who lived in heels and pencil skirts.
“Stephie!” a booming voice called. A tall man built like a linebacker approached us, and I immediately recognized him as the Marine from Stephanie’s pictures.
Still swarmed by kids, Stephanie managed a saucy salute. “Captain Carson. At your command, sir!”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Dork.”
The four kids squealed and released their aunt just in time for Gabe to sweep Stephanie into his arms, his tanned face full of affection.
Her laughter bubbled out as she returned the embrace with equal fervour, although her petite frame practically disappeared next to his. When he set her down, she patted his biceps. “Still keeping up the big guns, Staff Sergeant sir?”
He winked at her, smirking. “Ivy appreciates it.”
“Gross!” Stephanie faked a gag, but she was smiling.
Gabe’s eyes locked on me, and I stood a little straighter. We were the same height, but he was broader, and his bearing was definitely military. He held out a meaty hand to me. “Gabe Carson.”
“Nash Prescott,” I said, returning the shake firmly. Being in business told me you could tell a lot about a person by their handshake, and Gabe had a good one—solid. I expected nothing less from a military man, even if I was a little lost as to his ranking right now.
Gabe glanced between me and Stephanie. “Your boss?”
She looped her arm around mine and beamed up at Gabe with a doe-eyed look I’d never seen her use. “Boyfriend.”
Gabe opened his mouth to say something when the youngest girl, no more than two, tugged on his jean-clad legs, and his smile softened as he lifted the youngster into his arms. She wrapped an arm around his neck and hid her face against his chest as she stole glances at me with her dark almond-shaped eyes.
Stephanie had her free arm around one of the blond boys talking a mile a minute, and since I caught the word hockey, I assumed this was Jackson.
Clearly thinking better of questioning his sister in the foyer, Gabe said, “Ryder, Jackson, bring the cookies to the kitchen. And no snacking. Nana will know what to do with them.”
The boys—blond, blue eyed, and looking like twins—each hefted up a plastic container and called out, “Cookies coming through!” as they hustled across the living room towards the kitchen.
Gabe shot his sister a meaningful look that meant business. “I have so many questions.”
Stephanie scrunched her nose, lightly squeezing my bicep. “You always do.”
He chuckled and kissed her forehead before toting off his two girls.
“Stephanie? You came?” a blonde woman with royal blue streaks in her hair eyed Stephanie with disgust, her lips pressed into a sour pucker.
When her gaze flicked to me, she gaped like a fish.
“And is that… you wouldn’t?” Her icy blue eyes could have flayed off flesh with their cutting edges.
A crude swear fell out of her before she screamed, “Zoe, get out here!”
Stephanie let out a strangled whimper from the back of her throat and pressed closer to me.
I wrapped an arm around her waist. While I knew she could absolutely hold her own, I wasn’t about to let her get mauled by the circling vultures just because I was here.
“Why wouldn’t I bring my boyfriend, Veronica?” Stephanie practically purred, placing a hand on my chest, making me straighten up instantly. “Isn’t this what everyone always wanted? Poor pathetic little Stephanie to ‘get serious’ with her life?” Sarcasm dripped off her words.
Boyfriend. It gave me a little bit of a thrill…
until I remembered that this was only fake.
And this was just a performance. She’s not Alexis, who only used you until you didn’t serve a purpose anymore.
You’re both getting something out of this.
She needs you in her corner, and you need the chance to help her feel safe enough to let things be real.
“Him?” Veronica’s eyes bugged out comically like a cartoon, and she yelped when the wine glass in her hand shattered as it hit the floor. More swearing.
The room suddenly lost its nostalgic charm. The walls felt closer. More eyes swiveled to us, probing. Questioning. And was that… judging? I knew coming was a risk—Stephanie had all but told me that—but I wasn’t prepared for this. A few jaws dropped before the volcano erupted.
“Is that the Nash Prescott in our living room? With Stephanie?”
“Is she out of her mind?”
“What was she thinking?”
“Some nerve you have showing up, Stephanie. And bringing this—swear.”
“You never could behave like the rest of us. What a loser.”
“What in the world is going on?” a platinum-blonde woman demanded, storming into the room, hands on her hips. This must be Zoe. Her hazel eyes raked over me and Stephanie, and her lips curled in a snarl. “You better start explaining yourself.”
Stephanie pasted on a smile, fake as tinsel, while the words (abundantly littered with curses) flew at her. With her conference room voice, she announced for the room to hear, “Everyone, meet Nash Prescott, my boyfriend.”
The noise level died for all of three seconds. Okay, maybe they’d take this better than I—
The bomb went off.
And the scientific community needed to do a study on the noise levels produced by the Addams family. I could have sworn it broke the laws of nature, The Guiness Book of World Records… and a few windows.