Page 72 of Mistletoe Missus
I’d go back to my grumpy tendencies and push her away because Tinsley’s freedom was the key to keeping her safe. I made a vow to protect her, and I’d keep my word until the paperwork was done. My wife’s life was in danger because of me, and I’d set the love I had for her free.
THIRTY-NINE
Heartbreak
Tinsley
Abeeping sound woke me up with a slight pain in my head. Over and over, the noise kept going while I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, and I blinked several times. The pain in my brain intensified while my vision appeared blurry and black dots met my eyesight. I pressed my hand to my aching forehead and groaned at the pain. In front of me, there was some movement happening.
Someone was in a chair...I think?
“Who is there?” I whispered in a scratchy throat and coughed.
There was something on my finger with a wire, and my perception grew clearer. It was dark with a bit of light peeking in through a slit in the curtains and the shadowy figure moved from their seated position. The person inched closer as I squinted and made out half of the face who hadn’t answered my question as they stepped into the light.
“Mitt?” I questioned as my hands pushed me up into a half-seated position. “Where am I?”
He didn’t answer. The silence from him was unbearable along with the constant beeping of...A monitor? Was I hooked up to a machine checking my vitals?
Mitt finally answered. “You’re in the hospital, Tinsley.”
“What? I don’t—”
He interrupted, “You have a concussion. You might not remember much.”
“How? What happened to me?” I questioned as I peered down at my body with cuts and fresh bruises.
“There was an explosion,” Mitt responded briefly in a hard tone.
I shuddered. “Explosion?”
Suddenly, I remembered being outside Morgan Estates, ready to leave to meet Mitt at his office for a romantic evening. There were bright flashes of light, and I was hot. The temperature rose to the point I felt I’d burn alive, but there was Mitt’s face with his soft hazel eyes and a dashingly handsome grin on his face. More kind than the face before me, which was hard, emotionless, and unreadable.
“The limousine I sent to pick you up blew up outside of the mansion,” Mitt answered with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “The vehicle must’ve malfunctioned. Police are investigating.”
Everything came back to me in bits and pieces, all jumbled together in my need. I remembered my past movements leading up to me ending up in a hospital bed. Hurt, in a great deal of pain, and lost. Nothing made sense.
“But why didn’t you warn me the limousine driver was coming to pick me up?” I asked with confusion.
“I simply never thought it would matter. I own you, remember?” Mitt replied as he stepped closer and held something in his hand. “You’re my wife. If I send a driver to get you, you get in. If I need you at my office, I expect you there.”
“I was going to show up.”
“Were you?” Mitt asked with an edginess in his voice as he knelt at my bedside and peered into my eyes. “Because you didn’t listen. Again.”
“Christ! Give me a break, Mitt! I was a little busy, almost getting blown up,” I said in disbelief.
“See? That’s just it, angel, you didn’t get in,” Mitt breathed as he brushed hair from my eyes and tucked the strands behind my ear. “Such a defiant wife when you want to be, and that’s why I got these papers drawn up.”
Mitt placed papers on my lap, and I reached for them to read the print. Nothing sunk in until I read further and understood what this meant. Mitt wanted a divorce. He had finally come to terms with me forcing his hand when I hadn’t even been trying. I had given up and wanted to be with him. Everything had changed after the kindness he had shown me, and I knew deep down the man I had first met was the real Mitt Morgan. Not this stone-cold, bitter man who had come out of his dark shell.
Why?
“I’m not giving you a divorce, Mitt,” I answered with certainty. “Because I love you.”
There was a long pause.
The most painful moment of my entire life after I had laid my heart out on the line and waited for my husband to admit he loved me, too. I knew he did; he had to. I couldn’t be the only one who felt the connection between us on top of the desire waiting for us to collide our worlds into one blazing inferno.
