Page 78 of Fashionista's Playbook

Travis laughed and gestured for me to turn around. “Moriah, I wanted to make sure I introduced you. This is Lincoln Mercer, Outlaws General Manager and one of my first college coaches.”

Mercer was almost as tall as Travis, with wavy golden hair, and an obvious tan. The man was model attractive, right down to his Gucci loafers. “We met briefly at the Jones event.”

His hand was strong, warm, and slightly calloused as he shook mine. He might dress pretty and wear a suit, but he’d been a player for sure.

“We did. And again, it’s my pleasure.”

“Don’t flirt with my girl, Linc.” Travis joked with a stern look.

Mercer smiled, slow and wicked. “What are you going to do about it?”

The phone in my pocket buzzed. I checked the message while the guys goofed off around me.

“My parents are here.” My hands shook as I moved out of the room and toward the front door.

I stepped into the entryway, Travis right behind me. The elation of seeing my parents swept across me in a rush of emotion. My father’s smile, the softness in my mother’s eyes—how long had I missed them? I’d buried all that, ignored the twinge of sadness that came when one of the happy memories bubbled up.

I froze with my arms half open to jump into my father’s arms. A familiar blond head bobbed beside my mother; pretty mouth upturned in a bright, insincere smile.

Elise.

I grabbed for something, anything, to steady me. Travis’ arm was warm, solid, and strong beneath my grip.

When I glanced up at him, he was watching me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

Leave it to Elise to clear things up with her own brand of phony sunshine. “Sister!” she swooped in on me, wrapping her spindly arms around me and pressing her face to mine. She smelled almost sickly sweet, of raspberries and ChapStick. The same fragrance she’d worn when we were teenagers.

I wanted to vomit.

Rage, anguish, and disgust battled in my chest. It was a war that made me tremble with sickness. And here my sister was, acting as if we were close as could be. A sister I hadn’t heard from or spoken to in years—since the worst night of my life.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked, desperately searching behind my parents for any sign of Elise’s husband.

She pulled away, genuine hurt flashing in her eyes before she covered it up with a saucy smirk. “Missed you too, Moriah.”

But it was Mom who stepped forward. Her hair was dyed a light red color, reminiscent of the strawberry blond it had been in her youth. “She’s here because I’m not spending another holiday choosing which daughter to be with. We’re a family, it's time we act like it.”

If I said no to Elise, Mom would turn around and leave too. I saw it, not in her eyes but in my father’s as he silently pleaded with me.

“You should have asked, first.” I whispered.

And then Travis. “Just the five of you?”

I’d not even seen the boys. The older one danced along the brick planters that lined the sidewalk and the younger clung to my mother’s leg.

Elise sized him up with the slightest narrowing of her eyes. “Yes.”

Relief flooded in.

“You can do this.” Travis whispered against my hair, placing a kiss on my head, and shifting so our fingers laced together. “Whatever you decide, I got you.”

My father, on the verge of tears, sealed the deal for me. They’d come all this way. I’d never told them what Elise had done. Now, years later, I realized I’d done her a great kindness.

But I hadn’t wanted to break my father’s heart. I didn’t want to now, either.

Fighting for what I hoped was a genuine smile, I stepped back and held the door wide. “Please, come in.”

The two small boys roared into the house without hesitation. I was relieved that Elise followed after them, not forcing me into another awkward embrace.

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