Epilogue II
HOLLY
Cherry Creek Vineyards, the week before Christmas the following year.
The first snow sticks like powdered sugar on the vineyard rows, and the house smells like mulled wine and that special blend of chaos my sisters like to call Christmas.
I swear it doesn’t need to be this bad.
“Don’t.” Rainey points a wooden spoon like a magic wand. “I’m warning you, Hades. Do not touch that garland.”
“It’s just a little extra sparkle,” Hadley defends herself.
Ryleigh smirks as she sits down next to me, a fresh tray of sugar cookies in her hands. “It’s enough sparkle to make a stripper jealous.”
“I don’t know why you all pick on me.”
“You zip-tied mistletoe to the coat closet door last year. Aunt Pat went missing for twenty minutes every time the UPS guy showed up,” Rainey groans.
“He didn’t mind,” Hadley mutters.
I kick my feet up on the coffee table and drag a hand over the undeniable curve under my cranberry sweater. This baby is fueled by candy canes and sugar cookies and kicks my kidneys just to prove me right, calming down as soon as I pick up a cookie.
Sophie steals a cookie and spins in a circle, her tutu puffing out around her.
“Be careful,” I warn her when she gets a little close to Rainey, who stops and guides her away from the stairs. I wouldn’t exactly call the twos terrible, but they’re certainly active. More active than I currently have energy for.
“Status report.” Camden appears in the doorway like a walking winter Abercrombie catalog, and holy fuck, my husband is hot.
Coat open, scarf hanging around his neck, hair dusted with snow, and cheeks flushed from the cold.
He’s carrying a crate of wine like it weighs nothing and like he could body check a polar bear for me if I asked him to.
So hot.
“Down girl,” Hadley grins. “You’re already pregnant. You don’t want twins.”
“Please tell me you know it doesn’t work that way,” Ryleigh deadpans.
“Cookies just came out of the oven,” I tell my husband as he walks my way, his dark-blue jeans showcasing incredible thighs.
“Blame your brother,” he says, stepping into the room and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Luke insisted we rehang the banner, twice.”
Luke and Briggs shoulder in behind Camden. “Seriously. It looked like it said Cher was coming to the tasting room.”
“She’s still hot,” Briggs grins.
“Dude. She’s like eighty,” Hadley gags and throws a cookie at Briggs.
“I’d still do her,” he admits, and we all groan.
“I’d rather do you,” Camden murmurs with a wicked grin.
“Don’t make me put you on the naughty list, Grinch,” I tease.
His eyes go soft and smug all at once. “We both know I live there.”
“Okay,” Rainey claps her hands, switching into badass boss-bitch mode. I want to be my sister when I grow up. “Assignments . . . Ryleigh and Hadley, you’re on the tree.”
“Yes . . .” Hadley does a happy dance and bumps a box that starts playing Christmas music when it’s shuffled.
“Classy ornaments, Hades,” Luke laughs.
“No disco balls,” Ryleigh adds.
“Hold the glitter,” Camden joins in.
“Glitter?” Sophie repeats, firmly planted in her glitter phase at the moment.
“One tiny disco ball,” Hadley negotiates and holds a sparkly little silver ornament into the air.
“I say go for it,” I tell her, and she high-fives me.
“Victory!” she calls out like Braveheart, and I laugh.
Dad picks that moment to walk into the room, Mom’s favorite star tucked under his arm as he offers me his hand. “You ready, kiddo?”
“Born ready,” I smile, then wince as the baby delivers a swift kick to my ribs. I swear this little one is going to be a football player, just like his daddy. “Oof. That one hurt.”
“How’s my new little grape?” he asks with a palm on my bump.
“Kicking like he wants out today.”
“And my granddaughter?” He looks over at Sophie as she attempts to scale Uncle Briggs like he’s a jungle gym. He lifts her up and tosses her in the air, catching her high above his head until her squeal lights up the room.
I double over with another good kick. “Oh my garland, that one hurt.”
“Holly,” Rainey walks over and takes my hand. “How often is the baby kicking?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Are you feeling any contractions?” she pushes, and Camden’s face pales.
“It’s just Braxton Hicks, Rain.” But I start thinking about them and wondering . . .
“How often are you having just Braxton Hicks?” she asks condescendingly, and I grab a cookie and think about it.
“Don’t be a bitch,” I warn and pop the cookie in my mouth as another one hits. “Maybe every three or four minutes.”
“Christmas on a fucking cracker, Holly. You’re in labor.” Rainey looks from me to Camden, who looks like he’s about to pass the hell out. “Lucas, grab him.”
Luke moves next to Camden as Rainey takes my hand. “I’m not due for three more weeks.”
“Sounds like this baby has other plans,” someone says, but honestly, I couldn’t say who. I turn to Camden, and he straightens and opens his arms for me.
“You ready to have a baby, Grinch?” I ask with a sarcastic laugh because in no way am I ready.
“Let’s go have a baby.” Camden picks me up like I’m incapable of walking. “Briggs, you’re on Sophie duty.” And with that, we walk out the door, my entire crazy family following behind.
And when we walk back into Cherry Creek Vineyards two weeks later, it’s as a family of four.
Merry Christmas from The Monroes
Camden, Holly, Sophie, Cole, and Madden
The End.
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