“I can handle it,” I assure her. “You want to start, or should I?”
“Oh, no, you suggested it. You go first.”
Why did I suggest this? If anything, this should make her laugh. “I was twelve and determined to become the next great figure skating champion.”
“Figure skating? You?”
“You might find it hard to believe, but I was a graceful pre-teen,” I defend, then continue. “Anyway, my grandparents had this tradition of going ice skating on the pond near our house. This particular year, I decided it was time to show off my skills.”
Abby groans. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” I nearly laugh, remembering what happened. “I put on my skates, made sure everyone was watching, and attempted a triple axel.”
Her mouth drops open. “A triple axel? Seriously?”
“In my defense, I had no idea what a triple axel was. I just knew it sounded impressive.”
“Sounds like a twelve-year-old.”
I nod. “So, there I am, spinning wildly on the ice, arms flailing, when…crack!”
Abby gasps. “You fell through the ice?”
“Worse. I spun right into my grandmother, who was carrying a thermos of hot chocolate. We both went down, and I ended up covered head to toe in hot cocoa. And to add insult to injury, the fall ripped my pants in the back. Picture me soaked in hot chocolate and sprawled on the ice with my underwear showing.”
Abby laughs. “I hope someone has that on video.”
I groan. “They did, but thankfully, my grandparents aren’t that tech-savvy, so who knows where it is now.”
She wipes tears from her eyes. “You have to find it.”
“I really don’t.” But if it would make her laugh again, maybe I do. “Do you have any?”
“Other than wanting to be an elf and asking the mall Santa for a job application when I was eight, no.”
I can picture her doing that. Probably while her parents made sure Rachel didn’t have a hair out of place for her photograph with St. Nick. I doubt they would do the two girls together.
“What childhood dreams did you have?” I ask, wanting to know more—everything—about Abby.
Her smile falters. “Oh, you know, the standard stuff. Wanted to be a vet or a teacher. Maybe even a famous author. But here we are.”
“You’re a brilliant financial consultant. You’ve done well for yourself.”
She shrugs, picking at a loose thread on her pajama sleeve. “Yeah, I guess. But it never feels like enough, you know?”
I lean toward her. “What do you mean?”
“As you’ve noticed, Rachel has always been the ‘golden child.’ No matter what I did or do now, it never measures up to her in my parents’ eyes.” Abby laughs, though it sounds hollow. “Now that Jake’s proposed—on Christmas Eve of all nights—I’m just here. Still single. Just the other daughter.”
“I hate how they treat you.” My voice tightens. “You deserve so much more from your family. I can’t believe they don’t see how successful you are.”
“Thanks, but my mom will switch gears soon and only care about how soon Rachel and Jake will have kids after they get married, and I’m over here with my spoiled cat and wearing reindeer pajamas.”
“Hey. Look at me.” I wait for her to meet my eyes, and she does. “Your worth isn’t determined by how many kids you have or if you’re ‘settling down.’ You’re creative, smart, and one of the most hard-working people I’ve ever met. Anyone who doesn’t see that needs glasses.”
“Th-thanks.” She takes a slow breath. “I really miss my grandpa tonight. He was the one who made me feel like I was enough. Exactly as I am.”
I brush my thumb over the back of her hand. “Tell me about him.”
