Page 24 of Mistletoe Missus
Winded, I watched Mitt open some double doors, and I blurted out, “I’ll divorce you!”
Finally, Mitt stopped slightly past the doors. He didn’t turn around as I breathed rapidly and strands of my hair caught in my mouth. I wiped the hair away to get a better view of him. His broad shoulders were rigid, and he glanced over to his left.
A gruff voice said, “You’ll do no such thing, young lady.”
Suddenly, Cyprus Morgan stepped into view. Mitt’s father. He was a middle-aged man with graying dark hair slicked back, and I could imagine him running a comb he’d pulled out of his suit jacket pocket through it. The expensive Ralph Lauren suit he wore must have cost him thousands. He gazed down at his wristwatch and up at his son, who turned away.
I ambled forward. “Mitt? What’s going on?”
Mitt didn’t answer. Shocker. Not a surprise at all, but his harsh attitude still hurt.
I ignored his father, who I recognized from the tabloids. He had gained headlines right alongside his son. After all, he ran Morgan’s Law & Associates with his son.
Instead, Cyprus walked toward me with his hand extended. “I’m Cyprus Morgan. Mitt’s father.”
I glanced down at his hand and ignored it. Cyprus might be my new father-in-law, but first impressions always stuck, and he made a rude one. Not to mention his alleged criminal activity always making the news. I wanted nothing to do with him, only Mitt. My husband was my sole priority because he had made me his. Or at least, I thought so until five minutes ago.
“I know who you are.” I glared.
Cyprus behaved in a cutthroat and calculated manner. Headlines had labeled him as such and he had a hard time staying out of the latest news. Mitt differed from his father, or else I wouldn’t have married him. I had experienced his warmth and a depth to him his father didn’t have. His father had a bone chilling side, which gave off an eerieproceed with cautionvibe. The man practically had yellow caution tape wrapped around him and a big bright sign stating, “Watch your step.” A sudden mishap, and I’d be tripping to my unexpected death.
I turned my attention to Mitt. “Why is your father here?”
Mitt said, “He’s here for brunch, as usual.”
Finally, he speaks! Took Mitt long enough.
“Good work, Son. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s smart, too,” Cyprus answered for Mitt, looking at me from head to toe.
Tension was in the air—thick, raw, and heavy. A knife blade could cut into the stiffness and hit bone and nick a major artery, sending us straight into cardiac arrest.
I leaned into Mitt and whispered, “Well, your dad can go now because we have an important matter to discuss.”
Mitt peered down at me. His eyes were serious. “He stays.”
Mitt walked away from me as a whoosh of air followed him. He made his way toward the table, and his father grinned at me. It was a satisfied smile with a hint of something sinister, and a chill ran down my spine. I bit back tears of hurt, anger, and frustration with this change in the situation.
“Fine,” I grumbled and spun on my heels. A fake smile was plastered on my face as I shoved the emotions down. “Brunch it is.”
A long table was in front of me, and Mitt took a seat at the other end. I wanted to be closer to him and my insides ached for him, but I wouldn’t press the issue. A new wife should sit beside her husband, but perhaps he was the old-fashioned typeand expected husband and wife to be seated at opposite ends of the table.
Cyprus pulled out a chair and said, “Come sit, dear. We have much to discuss.”
I wanted to disobey, but Cyprus’s stern expression made me second guess my decision. Especially with a husband not taking my side at this moment. I took the seat without a word and watched Mitt’s father take his seat in the middle of the table.
He resembled a referee, with the sole purpose of keeping the game in check. Except this wasn’t ice hockey. This was my life. Our life. Together. But I had never been more alone.
The aroma of freshly made breakfast surrounded me and it smelled wonderful. Whoever the cook was, they deserved a raise. The spread was huge with waffles, pancakes, bacon, omelets, scrambled eggs, toast, French toast, bagels, fruit, coffee, and tea. There was even orange juice if anyone had a sweet craving. All the food to make a morning breakfast cheerful and welcoming after Christmas Day. But there was only an icy chill of awkwardness and evil in the air.
I grabbed the fancy scoop for the egg platter and added the fluffy eggs to my plate. Next came a couple strips of crispy bacon, just the way I enjoyed them. I took two slices of toast and lightly buttered them. I was about to take a bite when someone cleared their throat.
“I heard the wedding went off without a problem,” Cyprus said as he took a sip of tea and lowered the cup back onto the saucer.
“Yes. It was rather lovely, and Mitt even surprised me with—”
Cyprus interrupted, “A wedding dress and ring.”
“How did you—”
