Page 59 of Mistletoe Missus
My husband repeated the verse, and I was stunned. He didn’t suck! He was fantastic! Too damn wonderful!
Bewildered, I spun around with my jaw open so wide it probably hung to the floor. There was Mitt clapping his hands to the beat while the crowd had gathered around the stage and followed his lead. Hands up high toward the sky as he continued to sing with the microphone in his hand and an enticing smile on his face.
“’Cause in a sky, ’cause in a sky full of stars...” Mitt recited as he got closer to the front of the stage and pointed out toward everyone. “I think I saw you.”
On beat, Mitt began jumping. He bounced up and down to the upbeat tempo while everyone joined in. The crowd came alive and loved him. Mitt Morgan was a goddamn rockstar. My husband had an incredible voice, and no one had a clue.
I picked my jaw up off the floor and shouted, “Oh my God!”
My hand covered my mouth in delighted excitement, and Mitt drew me in. I clapped my hands to the infectious beat, and my head bobbed to the tune. He was good, and people were singing along. The atmosphere was alive, and my heart was too. The organ throbbed in a fast-paced rhythm as I watched Mitt kick out at the air, rocking out to the music as if he was meant to be there.
I danced and my hips swayed as I made my way closer to him. Directly in front of me, Mitt moved in my direction, and there was an immediate connection. I pushed past thrilled guests and couldn’t help myself from being closer to him. My hands reached out and wanted to touch him. To feel him, hold him, and be one with him. My husband, my rockstar, the rock of my world who held it together, so everything didn’t fall apart.
Gratitude didn’t even describe the weight of everything he had done for me, and all his grumpiness fell away. He was no longer a man I couldn’t trust, no longer the Grinch I once knew. Mitt meant everything to me. He was my universe at this moment of my life because he had saved me. He had done this for me.
Tears of happiness glistened in the shimmering light, and Mitt found me in the sea of the crowd. I sang along with him even though my voice drowned out with everyone else’s. I was closer to him than I ever had before. His beautiful hazel eyes were full of joy, and I had never seen him this alive. He set my world on fire.
“You’re such a heavenly view...” Mitt sang as he reached out for me and the last lines of the instruments played along with the ending of the song.
The crowd erupted with cheers; the noise reverberated in my ears. Women chanted for more as his name repeated on their lips, and men encouraged him to rock on. The sight was unbelievable—one I had never experienced in my entire life. Thethrill was unlike anything else and kept my adrenaline pumping. I couldn’t imagine how Mitt dealt with such an unreal reality, but his eyes never left mine, and the next song came on.
“Tinsley, please join me on stage,” Mitt voiced over the intro of “Yellow” by Coldplay and he bent down.
A hand on his knee, he reached for me. My hand had a mind of its own and, against my better judgment, grazed his fingertips. Until he engulfed my palm and walked me up the steps of the stage.
“What are you doing, Mitt?” I asked with confusion as he let go of my hand.
This near, I could see the sweat beaded on his face. His hair was all over the place as he raked a hand through it, and I drooled at his deliciousness. Mitt Morgan was a fucking stud, and he was all mine.
“Trust me, Wife,” he breathed before he sang the opening lyrics.
Mitt never turned away from me. He locked his sights on me, and my heartbeat thudded in my ears. He sang of the stars and how they shine for me with everything I do, but they were all yellow. Then he came along and he wrote a song for me of all the things I do and he called it yellow.
He reached out and touched me. “Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones. Turn into something beautiful.”
Then his finger lingered on my lips, and he sang about how much he loved me. Within that moment, I felt his love even though he swore he never could. Light replaced all the stains of everything he had done. A huge glow enveloped me, trapping me in time. I was locked away in this moment with my husband, a man I knew could be so cruel, yet so kind.
Then the music kicked up, and Mitt dropped his hand while he turned back toward the crowd. The short, sweet instant we had shared was gone in the blink of an eye as he capturedthe guests, and they all swayed to his beat. The rhythm was mesmerizing, and I danced along too. Caught up in him and his energy.
Until fireworks soared overhead.
The bright colors lit up the sky through the huge skylights, and gasps filled the early evening air. The sun had only recently set, and the array of blasting sparks was happening far too early. Thankfully, Mitt didn’t break character, and the music went perfectly with the bursts in the sky. He sang his last tune, and my mind ran without an answer for this mix-up, but the explanation was simple. Hopefully, the excuse gave me time to fix this damn mess I hadn’t known was coming yet again.
I reached for the microphone and spoke into it. “A huge round of applause for my husband! Wasn’t he amazing?”
The crowd broke out in cheers.
Once the sound died down, I added, “The fireworks display is only a warmup for the actual show at midnight. Enjoy your evening everyone!”
Little did the guests know, I had no clue how I’d get out of this mess.
THIRTY-TWO
Cold Threat
Mitt
Itook the microphone from Tinsley and thanked the crowd for being wonderful. The energy they had given to me was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had never performed for such a vast audience—only in a garage band when I was in high school. No one except them knew of my talent, and I had ensured it stayed that way. After all, money was no object, and I had used it to keep their silence. But my hidden garage band days were over.
