Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Stephanie
Mayhem. The voices clamoured. Accusing. Shouting.
Swearing. None of them thrilled. The solid press of Nash’s arm around me was the only thing anchoring me to the present, and he squeezed me closer as if sensing I was ready to bolt.
How did he know me so well? I was more than ready to ding dong ditch the Addams, hightail it out of the state, and change my phone number.
Anyone have Witness Protection’s card? Because I was dead meat.
A shrill, intense whistle cut through the room, silencing the commotion, which I swear made the crystal chandelier ring.
(Yes, this otherwise rustic cabin did have crystal light fixtures.) And I breathed a prayer of thanks for Gabe’s stellar lung capacity and take-charge presence as the pandemonium dimmed.
I might give him a hard time, but I adored him, especially in this moment.
“We’ve all got questions,” Gabe said, firm and even, eyeing me with a look that told me I was so in for an interrogation later. “Whatever your opinions, there’s no excuse for rudeness. Nash, welcome. Merry Christmas.”
Gabe’s speech earned him several withering scowls—from all four of my other siblings—but his hulking size had garnered him enough reverence in the Addams clan that no one contradicted him.
They might not like him anymore than they liked me, but he at least could make them listen.
Perks of being the eldest instead of the baby, I guess.
Lord, thank you once again for intimidating big brothers.
Ivy rushed over, gushing as she threw her arms around me.
Which was awkward for a second since Nash was still holding onto me.
But after the untangling of arms and limbs, I sank into her hug.
Ivy was the big sister I’d always wanted—and completely unlike the older sisters I had.
She’d married Gabe when they were still teenagers, and I was only seven years old.
The gentler counterpart to Gabe’s strait-laced nature and a peacemaker at heart, she’d always been a steadying force in my life.
And her hugs, a comforting blend of fresh detergent and baby powder, always felt like home.
When I pulled back, because she never let go first, Ivy shook Nash’s hand and gave him a once-over, her sharp green eyes beneath tortoiseshell glasses assessing him.
I found myself sweating a little because her opinion mattered to me.
Ivy twisted a long auburn curl around her finger thoughtfully, then speared me with a smirk. “Your boss?”
I flushed. Because…. Okay, I had talked about Nash more than I let on to him in the car. And maybe more than I had admitted to myself. “Yup, this is Nash. Nash, this is Gabe’s wife, Ivy.”
Nash flashed her his million-dollar smile that never failed to win him clients.
But Ivy was unfazed. She returned the smile warmly and patted my arm, leaning in to hiss, “We are soooooo talking about this later.”
Ha. Take a number, sister.
“Stephanie Mae Louise Addams!”
I winced. Being full-named was as terrifying at twenty-eight as it was at eight. There was only one person who got away with using my full name at that volume.
Ivy snickered, backing away with her hands raised. “Good luck,” she mouthed, her auburn curls retreating into the lingering crowd, who insisted on spectating like we were in the gladiator arena.
I glared after her. The coward. It was showtime. I grinned ecstatically, then toned it down, so I didn’t look like the Joker, baring way too many teeth. That wasn’t a good look on anyone. “Hey, Nana! Merry Christmas Eve Eve!”
My nana—Charmain Russo Addams—was a five-foot, American-born Italian firecracker.
Her bright white hair was always permed within an inch of its life, and I never saw her in anything other than rainbow, bright colours and chunky jewelry.
Oh, and she didn’t glide through life. She marched.
Currently clad in a red gingham apron over a burnt-orange cardigan and navy slacks, she jabbed her wooden spoon at me.
I jumped back to avoid it, smacking into Nash. His hands gripped my waist, holding me upright as I leaned against him. By this point I was as rosy red as Nana’s signature lipstick colour.
Nana jerked to a stop in front of us—me with a mottled face and Nash’s fingers still warm at my waist through my sweater. She raised a sculpted feathery eyebrow. I had inherited my short stature from her, so we were eye level. “Care to explain, Stephie?”
No. I really didn’t. But it wasn’t a question. It was an order. Besides, this was why we were here.
Before I got a word out though, Nash smoothly extended one of his hands to her, the other still resting on my hip. “Mrs. Addams, it’s a pleasure. Stephanie speaks very highly of you. I’m Nash Prescott.”
Nana harrumphed but shook his hand. She was too well-bred not to. “You’re the millionaire boss she talks about all the time.” She eyed him from the curl of his hair to the loafers on his feet. “You’re right, Stephanie; he is a looker.”
I covered my face with my hands. Why did I ever tell her such a thing?
If I thought I was red before, the fire department was about to be called because I was officially on fire with embarrassment.
And all the time was a big stretch. “Okay, Nana, that’s enough.
What rooms are we in? Separately. Because, you know, together is not happening. ”
Nana snorted. “Nash can take your luggage to the Mistletoe. You’ll be bunking with Hailey.
” She pointed to the right staircase, and I instantly relaxed because Hailey was my favourite—and only—cousin.
“And you”—Nana jabbed a finger at Nash—“will be staying in Cedar.” Her finger jerkily shifted to the left-hand staircase.
“And there will be no hay rolling on my watch.”
“Nana!” I shrieked.
She grinned saucily, swatting at me again with her wooden spoon. “Join me in the kitchen, baby girl, while your man totes up the luggage.” She patted his arm. “He’s got enough muscles for it, and we’ll catch up.”
The sweet words were a decoy, a pretty package harbouring devious intent. “I told you she would murder me,” I hissed to Nash as she sashayed away.
He glanced between me and Nana’s retreating march. “Are you safe alone with her?”
I laughed. His concern was touching. “Safer than you. Just remember I want blue roses and thumbprint cookies at my funeral.”
Nash chuckled and nudged me towards the kitchen. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You better.” Without thinking, I blew him a kiss over my shoulder.
And what did the man do? He caught it. And winked.
Darn his dimples.
Now to face the dragon of the family. It was time to catch up with Nana.
I was toast.
“Stephie.”
“Nana.”
We were in a standoff. Nana had dragged me into the walk-in kitchen pantry where a shelf was now digging into my back as I stared at the bag of flour over our heads. Who thought that was a good idea? One small shake and poof! Death by flour sack.
“Out with it, girl.”
I thought about waiting her out. Standing my ground. Making her sweat out her questions. But this woman had raised me for the majority of my childhood and teen years, and her stubbornness was the stuff of legends. So, I caved. “We’re together,” I said simply.
“Mm-hmm. And you decided Christmas was the time to spring this joyous news on us?”
“He doesn’t have family nearby and usually spends Christmas with friends.
So I thought…” It was a low blow, but appealing to Nana’s inner devotion to family—even one as dysfunctional as ours—had the desired effect when she deflated from samurai warrior to kindly grandma ready to adopt the world.
I didn’t have the full scoop on Nash’s family situation.
Just that he never talked about them. Overhearing him mention a grandmother to Liz this morning in the entryway was the most I’d learned in the last two years.
And I was trying to not be jealous he’d told her and not me.
But Liz had that effect on people—they told her everything.
“And you’re sure about this between you two?” Nana asked, smoothing the front of her apron.
My shoulders hunched. “Nana, I’m not sure of anything these days. But we’re dating. To see if we’re compatible and I… I like him a lot, and I want you to like him, too.” No lies there.
She was quiet for a minute—an eternity really, miracle that—before she nodded slowly and gathered me in a hug.
“All right, baby. If you’re sure, we’ll give him a chance.
Well, some of us will.” She squeezed me tight, smelling like her signature lilac perfume and freshly baked cookies.
“Though bringing that man into this family speaks volumes on his character. And I don’t know if I should congratulate you on your cunning or lament your insanity. ”
I huffed. “Maybe a little of both.”
“Besides,” Nana reached out and cupped my cheek, smiling warmly, “I’ve been worried about you and praying the Lord would bring the right person to you. You’ve been alone too long. Hopefully that bit of eye candy you brought is the answer to my prayers.”
“Nana, you can’t say things like that!”
She shrugged, waggling her feathery brows. “Always appreciate the beauty the Good Lord creates.”
I had to laugh, but at the same time, I relished in the comfort of her hug and the security of her prayers. Nana was legendary as a prayer warrior—I was in good hands, hers and the Lord’s.