Chapter 6 Stephanie
Chapter six
Stephanie
When I’d come home from my meeting with Nash, Liz had the kitchen sparkling and her baking accomplished, except the marzipan.
Because I’d offered to help, she’d naturally saved it for me.
I didn’t even like the stuff, but she said it was too easy of a recipe for me to ruin, and it was for my family get-together anyways.
Apparently Liz was making Christmas cookie deals with Nana behind my back, and I got saddled transporting the goods.
Cookies completed, Liz proceeded to drag every detail of the meeting from me while I unearthed my suitcase from storage. Except the offer of it being real. I didn’t know how to tell her that yet.
“Girl! Are you serious?” The deafening shrieks accompanying Liz’s question left my ears ringing. “You asked him to fake date you? What were you thinking?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere between don’t pass out and how sweet, he’s sitting on the floor with me, it just popped out.”
Instant concern bathed Liz’s face. “You had another episode?”
“Almost,” I clarified. “I didn’t faint so it’s fine.”
I stared at the clothing hurricane in front of me on my bed.
Usually, I threw what I needed into a suitcase and called it good.
But the idea of going with my fake… or not-so-fake boyfriend if I agreed to Nash’s proposal had me second guessing every wardrobe choice.
Were leopard print pj's too much? Better stick with the red plaid ones instead.
Not that Nash would see them. But what about Christmas morning?
I tossed the folded pair into the suitcase. I needed Christmassy.
Wait. I dug through my drawer until I found a pair of flannel pants with llamas in Santa hats, singing fa-la-la-la-llama. Perfect. They’d been a gift from my cousin Hailey last Christmas, and she’d get a kick out of my actually wearing them.
I still had nearly a week before we left. Was it too soon to pack? Never.
“Take another suitcase,” Liz counseled from where she was lying on my bedroom floor, her legs propped up against the wall. Apparently, there were health benefits attached to the position?
“I don’t want to take another suitcase,” I grunted as I wrestled the zipper around the first corner. Victory would be mine. “What was I thinking?”
“Answer me this. Does your reluctance to take the second case have anything to do with the very handsome, very attractive Nash Prescott, your newly hired fake boyfriend?”
The zipper snagged, and I groaned before turning to her, hands on my hips.
“First, handsome and attractive are the same thing. Second, it has everything to do with him. And third… Was there a third thing? Oh, right, I did not hire him. That makes it sound ten shades more sleazy than it is. There is no sleaziness happening.”
“Oh, honey, you’ve got it bad.” Liz’s face—upside down at this angle—softened with compassion. “Are you sure this is a good idea? You’ve had a crush on him forever.”
I huffed in a breath and gave my suitcase a small kick.
It was an absolutely terrible idea that my anxiety-addled brain blurted out, thanks to the cocktail of insecurity mixed up for me by Hiram’s text and my former childhood friend’s words.
I didn’t need validation from a man or even need a relationship to be fulfilled.
I loved my life… most of the time. But I couldn’t go back because…
well, having Nash’s full attention like that was heady.
“It’s not a crush, okay?” I finally said. “That sounds so juvenile.”
“Yeah, well, the powers that be haven’t come up with a different term for pining over someone at nearly thirty, so we’re working with what we’ve got.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll bring the second suitcase. He can think I’m a diva all he wants.”
Liz dropped her legs from the wall and rolled over to face me, chin propped in her hands. “You’re not a diva, and if he thinks that, he’s an idiot. But seriously, Steph, are you going to be okay with this being fake?”
Folding my favourite mulberry cable-knit sweater, I pasted on a smile. “Of course. I’ve worked for the man for two years. I’m an expert actor.” Lies.
“Except this time, you have to show you’re in love with him, not hide your feelings.” Liz was quiet for a moment, which was a rarity for her. “Why are you really doing this? Are you lonely? Or did something happen? Because you’re not the desperate sort or rash like me.”
Stephanie is a lot. The words reverberated through my skull with so much force I sucked in a breath.
“Steph?” Liz popped up vertically, concern lacing her tone.
“It’s hard to explain.” I chanced a glance at my laptop stowed on my dresser where White Christmas was playing.
I had about thirty-seven seconds to spill my guts before Danny and Bing danced their way across the screen lip-syncing “Sisters,” which Liz and I would, of course, belt along to.
It was a leftover tradition from college when the four of us—Liz, Juliet, Paisley, and I—would watch it together before winter break after finals.
Liz gave me the stink eye before jabbing the space bar, freezing Danny’s face in an unnatural contortion. Pausing the movie before our favourite song number. This was serious. “Spill,” she demanded with all the ferocity she needed to wrangle kindergarteners all day.
“Nash asked to date me. For real,” I whispered, clutching a third knit sweater to my chest. Was there such a thing as too much knitwear? I thought not.
“He did?!” Liz bounced on the bed with a squeal, knocking a cascade of fuzzy socks over the edge. “Steph, that’s amazing! You—”
“I said I wasn’t sure!” I blurted out, shoulders sagging. “Because this came from Hiram last night.” I slipped my phone from my jeans pocket and opened my messages.
“I thought we weren’t replying to him.” Liz’s face puckered like she caught a whiff of roadside carrion.
I smiled faintly at the way she included herself. “We weren’t supposed to but just read it.”
Liz scanned the message and let out a strangled scream. “Seriously?” She punched my single throw pillow for emphasis. “He bullied you into answering by threatening you with that cretin who tried to assault you?” Jumping up, she paced my cream rug.
“I thought Nash was better than Jarrett,” I tried to joke, but it sounded hollow. I sagged down onto my cream comforter. “At least Nash and I have terms for kissing instead of being cornered in a dark hallway.”
Liz propped her hands on her hips, staring me down. “You could have asked me to come. Ben would have understood.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You guys need this, and I need to figure out my own mess.” Liz had come with me to the cabin three times already, which was more than any best friend should sign up for. Besides, this was her first Christmas with Ben as a couple.
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.