Page 64 of Terms and Traditions

There was no way I could wear that gown. And if Hiram had known me at all, he’d have known that. Maybe that was the whole point. He never had.

The grandkids were spared most of the mind games but still received pretty cool gifts. It was something of a sore point for Gabe and Ivy because they were trying to instill values in their kids that other family members weren’t. And lavish gifts with tons of battery toys and screen time wasn’t their approach to parenting.

During a lull in the noise, Nash leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Ready for your present?”

I jolted, eyes wide. “You got me something?”

“Would’ve looked odd if I hadn’t, don’t you think?”

“We didn’t talk about it.” I shrugged as he stood and rustled the gifts under the tree. “Oh! Grab that gift bag, please. No. The other one.” I laughed, motioning to the left. “Nash, the red truck one with the red tissue paper. Yes!”

Nash chuckled and hurried back to me, gift bag in one hand and a neatly wrapped square box in the other. He gently set the box on my lap and smiled. “Go ahead.”

Arching an eyebrow, I lifted it, assessing. “Kinda heavy.”

“Just open it, woman,” he teased.

“So impatient,” I tsked, but I undid the ribbon and popped the lid off the box. Lifting the tissue paper, I gasped. Nestled inside was another box, a camera lens printed on the side. The 70-200mm I’d been eyeing for years but never justified buying because I hadn’t treated my photography as more than a hobby. “What?” I croaked, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. “Why?” I knew how much this cost, and the thought of him buying it for me…

Nash smiled softly. “For when you’re ready to embrace your gift and soar again.”

This man. I cradled the new lens in my hands at a loss for more words. I’d pushed back against making photography my main occupation because the lack of security scared me. I needed a solid income, somewhere to land. Even though I loved my job, I didn’t love it. Organization didn’t fuel my soul the way looking through a camera viewfinder and capturing a hundred moments that would last a lifetime did.

“Thank you,” I whispered. The words were a paltry compensation for the emotions swelling through me, but I smiled up at him, trying to infuse all my gratitude into the look.

Nash nodded, then lifted the gift bag in his other hand. “This one for me?”

“Yeah.” I fidgeted with the cuff of my worn hoodie. Compared to his lavish gift, a handmade sweater seemed like a pittance. I loved giving gifts and planning surprises for other people, but after his grand gesture, knitwear was pathetic. I was pathetic. What business did I have pursuing a relationship with this amazing guy? He was so far out of my league.

Oblivious to my mental spiral, Nash grinned up at me in boyish excitement as he crouched at my feet, pulling on tissue paper. My heart sank when he lifted the navy-blue knitted sweater. But his dark eyes softened as he brushed a hand reverently over the cabled detailing. “Steph… you made this?” His voice was low with awe.

I smiled mechanically, flexing my fingers. “Right under your very nose.”

He inspected it again. And again. Finally, his gaze locked on mine. “You were working on this in the car.”

“Yup.” I tugged at one of my curls. Okay, maybe he didn’t hate it. “I’ve never knit a sweater so fast in my life.”

“How’d you get my measurements?”

“I may have snooped in your closet when I dropped your dry cleaning off last Monday.”

Nash chuckled. “Clever girl.” Standing, he tugged his hoodie off and eased the new sweater over his white T-shirt. “Perfect fit.” He spun in a circle, striking a pose.

I laughed and stood to smooth a hand over his chest. “I didn’t get it fully blocked yet because I ran out of time, but after I do that, it’ll drape better.”

Nash smiled before bending down and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me into a sturdy hug. “Thank you, Steph,” he whispered into my hair. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I squeezed his neck, feeling a little woozy. Whether that was the man or my blood pressure, I wasn’t certain. “Thank you for believing in me. Merry Christmas, Nash.”

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Stephanie

After a quick break so Austin and Nana could stuff the turkey and pop it into the oven, more gifts exploded across the living room. But when I caught a glimpse of Jackson, I knew I needed to have that chat with him from earlier.

“Hey, kiddo, can you wait a minute?” I called to Jackson as we headed towards the main living room for more gifts. The allure of shiny wrapping paper was a siren call, but I didn’t want to postpone this conversation either.