Page 27 of Mistletoe Missus
Holly wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. She was my rock, the one solid presence in my life I knew was true. Without her, I don’t know what I’d do or who I’d be. Holly was always there to rescue me.
“But I don’t understand?” Holly whispered in my ear when my sobs quieted. “What the hell happened?”
Holly led me to the sofa, where I slumped down, and she fixed a pot of coffee. I explained everything from the point we last spoke until now. All the surprises Mitt had for me, the intimate moments we shared, even how I overcame my fear of heights because of him.
She opened a tub of ice cream. It was my favorite—mint chocolate chip.
I took a spoon and scooped it in. The mixture of heat from the warm mug and cold from the ice cream was exactly what I needed. The abrupt changes in temperature helped minimize the shockwaves of my new reality I was still coming to grips with.
Mitt would never love me. He loathed me and played his cards right to get what he wanted. Me. But I had fallen out of the deck and wanted out.
“Well, the answer is simple...” Holly said with a shrug and scooped out some ice cream. “Divorce his ass.”
“It’s not that easy, Holly. His dad made that quite clear,” I explained with a defeated sigh and a mouthful of mint chocolate goodness. “If I draw up divorce papers, they will ruin my life.”
Holly exhaled, partially chewing. “Damn.”
“I’m screwed,” I expressed and put the tub of ice cream on the end table. “Doomed to be an unhappy wife, stuck with a man who doesn’t love me and sticks his dick in every woman but me.”
“Not me!” Holly exclaimed and innocently raised her hands. “I wouldn’t touch that asshole even if he was the last man on this earth.”
I giggled. Which turned into Holly giggling too until we were laughing and snorting with our heads thrown back against the cushions. This was the first time I had felt anything good since I found out the ugly truth.
I turned to Holly and shrugged. “At least I didn’t have to take the busy subway to get here.”
“How did you get here? I can’t see you walking in heels like that,” Holly asked as she pointed at my feet.
“Mitt has a chauffeur named Albert. I kind of took his limousine,” I snickered and held my hand over my mouth representing a bad girl who didn’t care. “Mr. Morgan won’t be leaving his mansion soon because I told Albert to keep the car warm for me.”
Something in Holly’s eyes twinkled. They gleamed with a hint of mischief, and I knew she had an idea. The squint she gave me with a wide grin was clear as she stood up from the couch and peered down at me. “What if youmadeMr. Mitt Morgan give you a divorce?”
“I’m not following,” I answered with a perplexed expression.
“Either that or he fesses up to why he’s changed after coming back to New York.”
“But he’s already confessed,” I explained and shook my head. “It was all an act to get me to marry him.”
I clearly wasn’t following.
“But you were already married, and hestilldid wonderful things for you he didn’t have to do. Why? Why would he do that, Tins?”
Holly was right.
None of Mitt’s unforgettable gestures made sense. He only changed when we got back to the city and as soon as Cyprus Morgan was around. He didn’t have to throw a reception for us and spend more money. We didn’t need to spend time on me. We could have gone back to the city immediately.
Something was off, and I had to get an answer or win myself a divorce.
“I’m listening.” I sat up with renewed hope.
“It’s simple, actually. Get under Mitt’s skin.”
“How?” I asked.
Holly bent down in front of me and placed her hands on my knees. “Spend his money. Be the only person he thinks about from the time he wakes until he goes to sleep. Haunt his fucking dreams.”
Suddenly, my cell phone chimed with a text message.
I peered down at the screen. “It’s Mitt.”
