Page 68 of Terms and Traditions

He must have thought I needed extra convincing because he crooked a finger under my chin and gently tilted it up. “I’m no stranger to heartbreak, and I know taking that first step to let somebody see the mess, the fractures, and the broken parts of you is the hardest part. Thank you for trusting me with that. It’s an honour to share pain, not a burden. And it’s okay to grieve a relationship that didn’t turn out the way it was meant to.”

Why was his face going blurry? Oh, I was crying again. Relationships required communication to work, even when it was uncomfortable. When all your broken pieces and ugly edges were held up to the light by another soul. But there was a beauty to being known. Being truly seen. Scrubbing my sleeve over my eyes, I whispered, “Thank you for staying.”

“Always.”

And somehow, I believed him.

Chapter twenty-nine

Nash

Stephanie clung to my hand the rest of the morning as we sipped coffee in the breakfast nook with Nana and Hailey and stuffed our faces with Liz’s homemade shortbread. Watching Stephanie fall apart this morning broke something inside of me. In trusting me with her story, I got a clearer picture of the woman I’d called a friend and employee these last two years.

For the first time, I saw past the colour-coded planner, meticulous notes, and obsessive need for order as personality quirks to catch a glimpse of the little girl underneath, grasping to order an unstable world that hadn’t chosen her.

As the gift-giving wound down, the leftovers from Christmas Eve emerged onto the kitchen island, people wandering in and filling a plate at will. Austin, professional chef that he was, commandeered the kitchen preparations. He assigned jobs and tasks with precision, and once again, I witnessed that Addams take-charge attitude.

Stephanie and I were paired together peeling a mountain of potatoes. From the catlike gleam in Austin’s eyes, I was betting this was a bottom-of-the-barrel job. But it gave me time to watch family interactions. The teasing and banter. And interestingly enough, the work talk. Nova Designs truly was a family business, and even Austin, who didn’t work for the company directly, still worked for Hiram’s catering business. Between tension and subtle jabs, they projected a front of moderate camaraderie. One Gabe and Stephanie were clearly excluded from. Gabe was hard to flat-out ignore—I mean, look at the guy. But Stephanie? Unless they were throwing shade her way, it was like she didn’t exist.

Like she’d handed them the ultimate betrayal in disgracing the Addams name by working for the enemy and bringing him onto their home turf for Christmas. Sorry, guys. I intended to stick around for a good long while.

Once the food preparations were underway and close enough to finishing, we scattered to prepare for dinner. Because, of course, the Addams family did black tie.

My hands shook as I wrapped the burgundy tie with the white Swiss dots around my neck in my third attempt at a Windsor knot. Why was I nervous? I didn’t do nervous. I’d negotiated multimillion-dollar deals without batting an eye. But escorting a beautiful woman to dinner with her family had me—and my tie—in knots. Once I was satisfied with the result, I shrugged on my suit coat—the Armani grey pinstripe Stephanie had suggested—and strode downstairs to wait.

At the foot of the stairs, I fiddled with my silver monkey's fist knot cufflinks. Get a hold of yourself. It wasn’t like I’d never seen Stephanie in formal attire. I had a couple times when Genesis hosted gala events, but this was different. She’d said yes to dating for real. This was the first time I’d get to escort my girlfriend to dinner, and I wouldn't even get a dance out of it.

A throat dramatically cleared behind me, and I whirled around, my blood thrumming with anticipation.

Hailey grinned down at me—probably in a nice dress, but I didn’t notice. She swept aside, making a motioning arch with her arms. I waited and then my breath caught.

Chapter thirty

Stephanie

I smoothed my sweaty palms over the velvet skirt of the dress as I stepped forward, and Nash’s gaze washed over me with appreciation and a smile. Scooping the floor-length skirt up in one hand, I trailed my free hand over the polished wood of the banister as I descended. Nash’s eyes locked on mine. Utterly transfixed.

“Hi,” I said, stopping on the last stair so we were nearly eye level, and smiled shyly.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“You like the dress?” It was one of my favourites. A floor-length burgundy velvet gown, designed with the illusion of a wrapped dress in the bodice with short puffed sleeves and an A-line skirt. And, of course, a strappy pair of black heels that added a hint of loftiness to my five-foot frame.

Nash scanned me up and down once more, like he was just noticing the dress. That made me feel more confident than I could have ever been in that skimpy sapphire number upstairs under my bed. “Yes, of course. But you’re beautiful. The dress is just a bonus.”

I reached out, straightening his tie—an impressive Double Windsor knot, if I wasn’t mistaken—and patted his chest. The man knew how to wear a suit. His wavy hair was stylishly tousled and very distracting. But the way his tie perfectly matched my gown sent a flutter in my stomach. It was couple-y, and I loved it. “You look pretty dapper yourself.”

He kissed me softly before holding out his arm with an elaborate bow. “Shall we, my lady?”

I laughed and tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. “With pleasure.”

The dining room sparkled as we entered, among the last to arrive. Zoe had outdone herself on the decorating. The table was beautifully dressed. Greenery and holly snaked through the center of the distressed wood, interspersed with golden candlesticks, their pure white tapers flickering with welcome. Golden-rimmed china plates and a narrow-fluted glass marked every place. It was a feast for the eyes as much as for the nose.

All the food was piled in steaming dishes on the table. Buttery, fluffy rolls neatly arranged in a linen cloth basket. Roasted turkey overflowing with dressing. Honey-glazed ham. Brazed carrots. Creamy confetti corn. Roasted Brussels sprouts drizzled with balsamic and topped with hazelnuts and pomegranate seeds. A heaping punch bowl of ambrosia salad.

Eager faces clustered in groups, laughing. A bonus table off to the side housed a gaggle of kids.

Against my will, my eyes pinged to Hiram, like a heat-seeking missile, and I saw the exact moment he noticed me. His face iced over in disapproval as he took me in, head to foot. In my festive dress, I was formal dress-code appropriate.