Stinger (A Sign of Love Novel)

"That is the saddest tree I've ever seen," Audrey muttered, tilting her head to look at it.

I laughed, standing back and admiring the half bare, leaning tree, weighed down by the heavy strands of outdoor lights, standing in the middle of our cabin.

"I love it," I sighed. "Anyway, it's our first tradition. Don't knock it." It would look even more beautiful later after we had hung this year's Andrew ornaments on it.

Audrey continued to look at the tree with a disapproving expression. I swatted her playfully on her ass.

She let out a shriek and jumped away from me, laughing. "Fine, fine. Maybe I'll learn to love it too." She looked at the tree and tilted her head again.

I grinned, shaking my head. I started to turn toward the kitchen where I was in charge of basting the twenty-pound Christmas Eve turkey we had in the oven, when the door burst open and all the men came crashing loudly into the cabin.

"We're back, ladies," Josh yelled. "Who's in for naked hot tubbing?"

I laughed and Audrey rolled her eyes. I saw her look around Josh, her eyes landing on Dylan. He caught sight of her and stilled, adjusting his glasses. I'd have to ask her about that later. I'd noticed a lot of heated looks going on between those two this week.

Just as Carson had promised me a year ago, we had come back to Snowbird for Christmas. Only this time, our family and friends were with us and instead of lots to worry about, we had lots to celebrate.

Unfortunately, there was one person who hadn't been able to join us and that was Abby. But she had a really good reason–she was eight months pregnant and not able to fly. Her little boy, Kyle, and the new baby would only be thirteen months apart, but as Abby said, that's what happens when you drink three margaritas on your first night out post-partum. A warning to us all. Truthfully, her and Brian were thrilled.

We had rented a big, ten bedroom "cabin," and had spent the week skiing, snowboarding, and playing in the snow, with me strictly doing the latter. My muscles still remembered last year's lesson and weren't interested in signing up for more. Everyone had at least one gift. Snowboarding was not mine.

"Carson missed an epic afternoon on the slopes," Leland said, hanging his jacket up.

"I was busy doing something way better," Carson said, coming out of the bedroom, our daughter curled up on his chest. "I was cuddling in front of the fire with my girls," he grinned, "and decorating our tree." All the men looked over at the tree Carson was referring to and tilted their heads as a unit. I huffed out a breath as Carson walked up to me and put one arm around my shoulders, kissing my head.

"Oh, God, he's choosing cuddling and decorating over sports," Josh muttered. "Time to hand in your man card, Carson." Josh shook his head, feigning sadness.

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, your day is coming, my man. Mark my words. And when it does, payback is a bitch."

"Hey, watch your mouth, all my girls are in this room," my dad said, coming out of his room where he had been napping.

Carson looked appropriately repentant as he said, "Sorry, sir," but a corner of his lip quirked up as my dad walked by and punched his shoulder lightly.

The truth was, my dad and Carson couldn't have been any closer. My dad loved both his sons-in-law, but he and Carson had a special bond. Maybe it was because Carson had never had a dad of his own, and my dad got the "man's man" he always wanted in a son, but whatever it was, they loved and respected each other. It warmed my heart in a way that had me constantly fighting back tears when I watched them together.

We had invited my mom to come for the weekend too, but she had declined, even when my sisters and I suggested renting two cabins. I wished we were closer, especially now that I had a daughter of my own, but I couldn't do all the work in our relationship. Maybe someday she'd realize that she had responded to loss, by creating more loss, and seek to repair it. I hoped that would be the case, but I thought more likely that too much time had already passed. It was one of my biggest heartbreaks, but I vowed everyday that it was going to inspire me to pull people closer, not push them away.

Carson had written his own mother a letter and sent her a picture of our daughter, Ella, when she was born–an olive branch that he extended to the woman who had given him life, but simply hadn't been capable of giving him much more than that when he was a boy.

She had written him back and they were corresponding with letters and pictures. He still seemed cautious, but it was a start.

I smiled up at my husband, and then I turned my eyes to our baby and kissed her on her blonde head. "Hey little miss," I said. "How come you're not sleeping?"