Page 18 of Mistletoe Missus
Mitt had his back turned toward me when I exited the washroom, and my heels tapped along the floor, drawing his attention. The scene played out before me like in any romance movie where the major lead made her grand entrance. Except this was real life. This moment was mine and the look on Mitt’s face made my heart race. His awestruck eyes took in the sight of me, and nothing could make him turn away.
The beautiful dress Mitt had chosen for his bride-to-be bedazzled him as I ambled toward his side, and the circular train followed behind me. His eyes never wavered, roaming from my head down to my toes and right back up to my eyes. My gaze searched his face for any doubt in his decision, but I couldn’t find an ounce.
Mitt caressed my cheek. “Tinsley. You’re the most striking bride I’ve ever laid eyes on, angel.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, my cheeks flushed.
His fingers traveled down my cheeks and over my plump lips. Further down, his nails grazed my neckline as he continued moving toward my shoulder. He ventured down my arm, leaving tingles in his wake until his fingers looped through mine and he squeezed.
“Let’s go get married.”
We exchanged IDs and signed on the dotted line. The marriage took under ten minutes to complete with not one issue. Neither one of us had been previously married or had any skeletons in our closet. We were husband and wife. We even sealed our union with a tender kiss, the same as I had seen in the movies, except butterflies danced in my belly and took flight when he cupped my face. He deepened the passionate caress, and the world faded away all over again. Until our mouths parted and we smiled at each other. We silently accepted that we were officially tied together for all of eternity. Until death did us part.
TEN
Reception for Two
Tinsley
“Ihave a surprise for you,” Mitt announced after we left the County Clerk’s office and we were back on the road.
Mitt insisted I keep the wedding dress on and kept our destination a secret, except for hinting it was a gift for me before we went back home—back to New York City to reveal we had tied the knot. Mitt would make a statement, and it would be a grand awakening for the press. He was no longer a bachelor and was off the market. His wife was Tinsley Morgan, an event planner he had instantly fallen in love with. At least, that was the story he’d tell. Our fictional love story was far from the truth.
“Where are we going, Mitt?” I asked for the second time, eager for his present. “You’ve got me on the edge of my seat with excitement.”
As exhilarated as I was, I was still anxious about the unknown and tense from our pent-up sexual tension, a pure cluster fuck of raw emotions. I was living on the edge as we rode up a bumpy hill in the mountainside. I was afraid to peer down, with my heart in my throat, for several reasons—my fear of heights, the rocky emotions I was having toward my new husband, and the nagging dread deep in the pit of my stomach.The fear was probably from this hilltop or maybe a bit of everything.
I grabbed Mitt’s hand. “Maybe we should turn back.”
Mitt squeezed my hand. “But this is our first adventure as newlyweds.”
My head spun, beads of sweat coated my forehead, and my eyes hurt. The bottom of the mountainside was a long way down, and I had to force my gaze from the snowy hillside. I shouldn’t stare death straight in the face because it was an icy slope all the way to the bottom.
“Are you sure the driver knows how to get through this mess?” I questioned, focusing on the curving road ahead.
“He’s been doing a good job ever since I gave him a warning.” Mitt answered as he kept his eyes on me and scooted closer. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I replied truthfully.
If we were going to die, I might as well be honest. With the excitement of his wedding day surprise, I struggled to keep my phobia hidden. I didn’t want to ruin his gift with bad news and kept the honesty hidden until I realized I couldn’t anymore. I should’ve expressed my fear sooner and told the driver to turn this car around, but it was too late now.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he turned my chin toward him, and his hazel eyes searched mine after a moment of silence. “Tell me.”
“I’m afraid of heights,” I admitted.
“You know what they say about fears?”
“What?” I asked through parted lips and sped up breaths.
“Face them,” Mitt responded and cupped my face in his hands.
The thought of Mitt eased the terror running through my mind, but the fear wouldn’t shut off. Constant images ran through my head of the limousine tumbling over the side of thecliff or catching a patch of icy road and the vehicle going into a tailspin. It would be a horrific sight, ending in tragedy and making headline news. I could see it word for word typed out in my mind.
Mr. Mitt Morgan meets fateful wedded day doom.
A love story gone wrong and doomed from the time we signed on the dotted line. Our fictional fairy tale would meet a tragic fate in the eyes of thousands. Love was never our destiny; instead, a gruesome end awaited us.
My heart beat erratically and my nostrils flared. It was a hundred degrees in the limousine, and I needed to get out of there. I eyed the door handle, which only brought my attention back toward the window, and I made a huge mistake.
