Harper Apple

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I ask, my boots squeaking through the dry snow with every step as we trek up the mountain.

“Because you wanted to cross Colorado off your list,” Royal says. 

“And having been here before, you should have warned me that my Arkansas ass couldn’t handle it,” I say. “Snow is pretty and all, but this cold—”

I break off when a blast of icy December air steals the breath right out of my mouth. 

Royal chuckles. “Someone told me she was a badass who could handle it.”

“Trust, I did not call myself a badass,” I say. “Clearly, I’m a dumbass. Don’t gloat.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Ugh, you’re gloating,” I say. “Come on, let’s catch up to the others. I can’t have a toddler show me up.”

Royal squints ahead at his twin and her brood. “Which one are you calling a toddler?”

“The one toddling?” I say, gesturing vaguely to his twin’s family in front of us. 

Royal smirks. “And which one is that?”

“Honestly? I have a hard time keeping them straight,” I admit. “Probably a good thing we decided not to have any of our own.”

“Yeah,” Royal says, wrapping an arm around me. In our puffer parkas, it’s like two marshmallows hugging. 

“Do you regret that?” I ask carefully.

“Never,” he rumbles. “I only need one brat in my life.”

“Hey,” I protest, laughing as we hurry to catch up to the others. 

Just as we do, one of King’s kids falls down, and a domino effect ensues. They all end up rolling around in the snow, half of them laughing and half of them crying. Crystal bends to scoop up the toddler, then slips on the snow and falls too. The baby strapped to her chest starts howling. Devlin pulls her up and brushes her off, checking the baby. The toddler is still wailing, abandoned in the snow.

“It’ll be a miracle if we make it back without losing one of these gremlins,” I say, glancing at Royal. 

I expect to see him grimacing at the chaos, but he’s smiling fondly at his niece as she stares up at him, her face all red and scrunched up. He scoops her up and dusts her off, and she quits crying, her little lip trembling and her eyes full of glassy tears as she snuggles into his chest. 

“See, it’s not so bad,” he says. “Just need to knock off the extra.” 

He tosses her in the air, and she shrieks with laughter and terror, grabbing onto his hands. 

For a second, I’m reminded of another kid, her joyous shrieks when Duke spun her around. Olive’s been gone for a year and a half, and I know she’s back with her sister where she belongs, but I still miss her. My first two Christmases with Royal were spent with Olive too. She helped me adjust, to feel like I wasn’t such an outsider among all these posh, wealthy people. This will be our second Christmas without her, and without Duke. 

My heart skips when Royal tosses the kid up again and her shrieks echo over the snow. But unlike the day when Duke spun Olive around, Royal isn’t out of control or drunk. He’s just playing with his niece. She’s still sniffling when he brings her down into the crook of his arm. 

“All good?” he asks her. “Or you need a few more knocks?”

“No,” she squeals, holding on tighter. 

By then, King and Eliza have managed to right the rest of the fallen soldiers, and we make our way up to the stand of evergreens where we’re supposed to cut a tree, for reasons I’m still not clear on. I’m the only poor here. Everyone else in the family has enough money to buy the fanciest tree at the store for every room without breaking a sweat. 

I heard something about “Darling tradition,” which must be why Preston and Colt went ahead and picked a tree before the rest of us reached the grove. A long sled full of more kids sits in the snow behind them, the runners leaving tracks in the sparkling white wonderland. 

I take a moment to breathe in the icy air, to marvel at the remoteness and breathtaking starkness of the mountain. I’ve gotten used to the cold in New York, but it’s different in the city. Here, the cold feels more potent, even dangerous, in the secluded wilderness with the mountains towering above us, jagged and majestic. 

“I think this one,” Colt says, pointing to an evergreen monstrosity. “Who’s going to shake the snow off it?”

“Sounds like a job for Baron,” I say, then look around. “Where is Baron?” 

“He and Mabel said there were plenty of hands on deck already,” Crystal says. 

“I thought this was a mandatory family thing,” I say. “I’m not a Darling or a Dolce. How come I was required to participate, and they got to weasel their way out?” 

“They’re probably enjoying having the lodge to themselves,” Eliza says. “I think all these kids overwhelm them.” 

“Isn’t one of these kids theirs?” I ask, gesturing around to the hoard of small humans surrounding us. Most of them look like their Dolce parents, so it’s already hard for me to tell them apart, but today, they’re all bundled in hats and scarves and mittens, which makes even the blond ones blend into the sea of chubby cheeks and button noses. Okay, they’re pretty cute, even I have to admit. 

“Speaking of, I believe this belongs to you,” Royal says, handing Crystal her daughter. 

The kid protests and clings onto Royal.

“Looks like she’s yours now,” Crystal says, holding up her hands. 

“I’ll shake the snow off,” Preston says, putting up his hood and fighting through the branches. 

“Me too,” cries one of the toddlers in the sled, holding up her arms.

Colt lifts her out of the lineup and stands her on her feet, tucks her dark hair into her hood, adjusts her scarf, checks her mittens. Then he leads her into the branches with Preston, her little hand gripping his finger as she stumbles through the snow. 

“Sure you don’t want one of those things?” I mutter to Royal, eyeing the kid in his arms. 

“Do you?” he asks. “You keep bringing it up.”

“I’m sure,” I say. “But I do miss Olive this time of year.”

He’s quiet a moment, looking up at the tree as snow swirls down in a sparkling cloud of dust. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

“She would have loved this,” I say, imagining her jumping in to knock snow off the tree. She would have been the first to volunteer—and probably climb up it like a monkey while she was at it. I smile at the thought. Wherever she is, I hope she has trees to climb and maybe some snow to play in. 

I lean my head on Royal’s shoulder and watch the others fussy over the kids, checking on wet mittens and runny noses. 

“You miss him too, don’t you?” I ask quietly.

“A hundred times a day,” he says. 

Gloria steps in front of us, phone held up, and we smile. She snaps a few pictures and then turns to capture more of the scene. 

“Official photographer of the tree cutting event?” I ask.

“Basically,” she says. “I’m the only one not herding cats.” 

There’s a moment of awkward quiet, where my eyes automatically go to Colt and the toddler he’s still carrying around like she’s his.

“Think you’ll have a cat anytime soon?” I ask. “Seems like your man might have baby fever.”

“He’ll be a good dad,” she says. “But not anytime soon. We’re still traveling, and we’ve already scandalized his family enough this year with the announcement that we’re never getting married.”

“Never?” I ask, surprised. 

“You know that,” she says, giving me a funny look. “I told you before that it’s not in the cards for me.” 

“I guess I thought… You’d change your mind. You’ve been with Colt so long.”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t believe in it either. It’s an outdated institution. We’re happy the way we are.”

“Sounds like an excuse to cheat,” Royal says.

Lo gives him a cool look. “That sounds like a you problem. We don’t need a piece of paper to know we’re committed to each other.”

“Whatever works for you,” I say. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Thanks,” she says, smiling. “We are. We don’t need his family or our friends or anyone to understand it. We understand, and that’s what matters.”

“I can respect that,” I say. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you. I was just surprised.”

Devlin comes over, holding out a hand saw. “Your turn,” he says to Royal, trading it for the toddler in his arms. 

Royal goes in to saw at the trunk of the tree, since apparently all the guys take a turn at it. I go to hold the branches aside while Royal maneuvers his giant body under the tree. He crouches, sawing at the last bit of wood. The tree creaks and groans, and everyone outside cheers as it tips with a last splintering of trunk and a whoosh as it lands on the soft padding of snow. Royal stands and backs up, grinning, the saw in one hand. It’s nice to see a smile on his face. It’s been a tough few years for his family. 

Our family, as he likes to remind me. We’re not married yet either, but it’s definitely in the cards for us. Royal wouldn’t have it any other way. And neither would I. 

He drops the saw into the snow and scoops me into his arms, his hands circling my waist as he lifts me high into the air, above his head. He smiles up at me, then brings me down into his arms. “Why do I feel like a Viking right now?” he asks. 

“Because you are one.” I wrap my legs around his hips as he cups my cheek with one gloved hand, bringing my chin up and pressing his lips to mine. 

“I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you into a cabin and throw you on my bed and fuck you until you can’t walk,” he says. 

I smile up at him. “Hmm, too bad we’re sharing the Darling lodge with five other families.”

“Maybe I’ll just tie you to my bed for the whole week and use you any time I want.”

“You don’t need to tie me to the bed for that,” I say, giving him my most salacious smile.

“You better stop that or I’ll fuck you right here and now, in front of all of them.”

“You can’t do that,” I say. “I’ll get frostbite on my ass.”

“I’ll spank it to keep it warm.”

“I’d rather you fuck it,” I say, biting my lip to hide my grin as I watch his pupils blow wide with desire. 

He growls and grinds against me so I can feel how hard he is—and how big. I know I’ll pay for the teasing later, when he does exactly what I asked for, in the warmth of our room. 

“Can you guys stop humping in front of my children?” Crystal says. 

“Like you don’t do it all the time,” I say, but I dismount her brother anyway.

“Yeah, but that’s how mommies and daddies show love,” she says, flashing a smile. 

Out of all of us, somehow she maintains the most innocence, even though she has like five to seven children, so she’s definitely not innocent in all ways. But in the ways the rest of us have been damaged, she’s unscathed. Except for losing her father and brother. So I guess we’re all fucked up by now. 

“You might want to pay less attention to what we’re doing and more attention to your kids,” Royal says, nodding to where one of the clan is making a break for the mountaintop. “Prince is about to summit.” 

Crystal curses under her breath and takes off after the stray child. 

“Told you we’d lose one,” I say, shaking my head. 

The guys load the tree onto the sled, which means there’s four more kids to herd down the mountain. Colt and Lo pull the sled, laughing and goofing off whenever it starts sliding too fast or going off to one side. At one point, Gloria scoops up some snow and pelts Colt with a snowball, and he chases after her, tackling her in the snow while she howls with laughter. The sled careens off down the hill, and Devlin has to shout at them several times before they come up for air and go racing after it. They lunge for the sides and brace their feet as they try to slow its progress, but they all end up in a heap at the bottom of the slope, well before the rest of us. 

They come up laughing and coated in powdery white flakes. They’ve lost as much as the rest of us—Gloria a brother, Colt his mother, if in a different way—but they seem happy and carefree together. It makes me feel better about not starting a family as young as Royal’s siblings did. 

The Darling dads seem to have a system, lining up all the kids who can walk and carrying the rest, with the help of King and Eliza. Royal and I each take one too. Somehow, we all make it back to the huge lodge where we’re all staying for a week, owned by the Darling family. Devlin stands at the door doing a headcount as all the kids file in. Preston stands inside, double checking so we don’t end up with a Home Alone situation. 

“Hey, we all made it back alive,” I say, stopping next to him. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“Baron wasn’t there, so I don’t think it qualifies as a miracle that we lived,” Preston says. “Just good luck.” 

Mabel slips into the chaos like a ghost, whisking Hemlock from Royal’s arms and crouching down in front of her to hear about the little girl’s adventure as she pulls off her boots and mittens. Dolly comes padding in with her big pregnant belly, wearing a pair of pink Santa pajamas, to help corral the kids and get them out of their winter gear. 

“Let’s sneak away,” Royal says, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. “They’ll be busy getting the kids changed for the next hour.”

I grin and hide my face against his side. “Lead the way, Viking.”

We convene an hour later to decorate tree. When I step into the room, Baron’s sitting in a chair in the corner, slouched down, staring off with haunted, hollow eyes that make me shiver. I swallow hard and let Royal step in front of me, and by the time Baron comes back into view, he’s sitting straight, his face back to it’s normal expressionless blank. 

“Are we missing someone?” he asks once the room is full of squirming kids and chatting adults. 

No one answers him for a second, and then King puts an arm around his brother and gives him a squeeze. “Yeah,” he says. “We’re all missing him right now.”

Baron scowls. “I meant a kid,” he says, his gaze roving over the dozen little bodies in constant motion. “Are we missing a kid?”

“No,” King says. “Everyone’s here. Even the baby.” 

He nods to a bassinette someone brought in. Another baby is in a swing, which is softly playing “Silent Night” as it sways back and forth. 

I don’t know how they keep the kids straight to even know if one’s missing. Baron frowns around for another minute, taking stock of all of them, and finally shrugs it off. 

The parents all help each kid hang an ornament, and then all of us get a turn. Royal smacks my ass as I climb up the ladder to hang mine. 

“Hey,” I protest, slapping his hand away. “You gotta give that time to recover before you go smacking it.” 

“I’ll give you an hour,” he growls, staring hungrily at my ass the entire time I’m above him. 

When we’re finished, we turn out the light and stand back, staring up at the beautiful tree, the scent of it tinging the air with Christmas vibes. Even the kids fall quiet, staring up in awe as the lights gently twinkle. 

One of the staff brings in a liquor cart, and Royal gets us drinks and pulls me down into his lap in the love seat. Devlin and Preston pour themselves glasses of whiskey. Dolly isn’t drinking since she’s pregnant.

Colt is still sober and doesn’t touch the stuff, so he drops into an armchair. Baron slides onto the arm of his seat, and they look up at the tree together, the lights glimmering in the lenses of Baron’s glasses. It’s weird to see him sitting with Colt, like they didn’t hate each other for years. 

Then again, Baron hated everyone. He probably still does. He just doesn’t try so hard to kill us anymore. 

Colt starts to say something, and Baron twists around toward him, a certain expression on his face that looks so much like Duke that for a second, it takes my breath. Drink in hand, King joins them, standing on Baron’s other side and resting a hand on his shoulder. Baron turns back to look up at the tree, and whatever Colt was going to tell him remains unsaid.

Mabel folds herself to the floor and pulls Hemlock into her lap, pointing up at the tree and murmuring something to her, probably the history of Christmas trees or the reason behind the star on top or some other random fact that only she would know. Crystal and Eliza agonize over the liquor cart, chatting about breast milk and whether they can have a glass of wine if they plan strategically. 

Gloria elbows me and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Remember when pump and dump meant something entirely different?” 

I can’t help but laugh. 

After everything, all the loss and trauma and horror of the first few years with this family I’ve found and made my own, that feels like the biggest miracle of all.