EIGHT | Christmas Day | Tinsley
EIGHT
Christmas Day
Tinsley
I woke up to the pilot announcing our incoming landing at the Colorado airport. As we descended toward the tarmac, Mitt held my hand through the unexpected turbulence. I was grateful for the gesture and clung to him until we hit the ground. The plane bounced once, then twice as the brakes kicked in and we arrived safely in another state.
“We made it,” I sighed with relief.
Mitt kissed the back of my hand. “We did it.”
“Now what?” I asked as he moved from his seat, and I followed his lead.
My skin tingled from Mitt, holding my hand and not letting me go. The act was purely innocent, but my heart fluttered, and he made me blush—a reaction I was getting used to while being in his presence.
He answered, “It’s time for you to become my wife.”
“Right now? At this hour?”
I gathered my purse and headed toward the stairs leading to a limousine that was ready for us on the landing strip. Morning light slowly crept through the cloud-covered sky, trying to break past the fluffy snow falling from the heavens. Mountains were in view, but the early morning made them harder to see. I was sure the view would be beautiful once the sun finally shone through. The mix of cloud cover, sunny skies, and a light snow would make for a magical Christmas morning.
“Yes. The County Clerk’s office has everything set, and they are waiting for our arrival,” Mitt replied as he led me toward the limousine, and his dress shoes crunched in the snow. “All we need is our IDs and to sign the marriage license.”
Flabbergasted, I asked, “That’s it?”
“Yes, angel,” Mitt breathed as he smiled at me and opened the door. “You’ll soon be Mrs. Morgan, and I can’t wait.”
I climbed onto the leather seat, and my heart hammered until it was up in my throat. My belly swirled with nerves, but excitement all at the same time. This was it. I was getting married, and Mitt had set the plan in motion. But a nagging sensation stirred in the pit of my stomach, catching me by surprise that I hadn’t thought of this before.
With all the rushed decisions, high emotions, and a lot going on, I hadn’t stopped to question Mitt’s reason for marriage. I was consumed with finally being a bride and desperate for marriage because of my age. I hadn’t bothered to discover why he was committed to this. He knew me before I even knew him, and maybe he found me compatible. Perhaps he had the same reason as me and wanted to get his life started. A successful career wasn’t everything, a family was, and even though we weren’t in love, the devotion could bloom with time. This had to be the logical reason behind his reckless decision to marry a woman he had only kissed under the mistletoe once a year.
Right?
Questions swirled in my head on the ride from the airport to the County Clerk’s office. The back end of the vehicle swerved with the curves in the roads and the snow covered pavement. I’d prefer the driver to not be hasty and slow the fuck down, but I wanted to get this over. Instead of letting all these scattered second thoughts play tricks with me.
This marriage to Mitt Morgan was what I wanted. I want a family, a life outside of work, and I was tired of being alone—sick of spending holidays on my own. But today I wasn’t. I was with my husband-to-be.
Wet beads of moisture glistened on the windows of the limousine, with the sunlight coming through breaks in the clouds, and snowflakes melting from the heat of the vehicle. I watched buildings pass by and noticed there was little traffic on the roads. It was a holiday, and people would celebrate with their families, but Holly was my only family.
With my parents gone after their tragic deaths, after I moved away, the small family I had left vanished. I grieved my loved ones and losing them forced me toward independence. But this marriage gave me hope of someday creating new traditions with a family of my own.
“Wait a minute...” A thought occurred to me as I folded my arms and turned to Mitt. “It’s a holiday. The County Clerk’s office is closed.”
“I told you, angel, they are expecting us,” Mitt said as he ran a finger across my cheek. “I made sure of it.”
“How?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. “No one wants to work on Christmas Day.”
“They’d agree to for a million dollars.”
My mouth dropped open in shock at Mitt’s response. This man paid a million dollars to ensure we got married on Christmas Day? Holy shit!
“Mitt!” I exclaimed with wide eyes. “Are you out of your mind? You spent a million dollars just for us to tie the knot?”
“Yes, I did, and I don’t regret it,” Mitt admitted as he took my chin and pulled me closer. “Because you’re worth every damn penny.”
Breathless, he kissed me with tender ease as his tongue lazily crept past my parted lips and danced with mine. I fell into him and an unexpected moan escaped me. His hands were in my hair as the kiss escalated, and I found my teeth nibbling his lower lip. An animalistic urge made me want more as my fingers dug into his shoulder blades, and I never wanted this intoxication to end. I was drunk off his desire to have me, and he was caught up in me too. The deep rumbling groan from him was undeniable proof.
Suddenly, we jerked forward as the vehicle came to an abrupt stop and our lips parted. Mitt peered over my shoulder. His lips were glistening from my clear lip gloss. The appearance suited him, and I wanted him back in my arms—our mouths colliding, hands exploring, and passion searing.
Instead, my cheeks instantly burned from us getting carried away in the heat of the moment. I was a schoolgirl making out secretly with a forbidden crush, but he was far from that. He was about to be my husband, and I had to get used to this.
“We’re here,” Mitt declared as he met my eyes and smiled at me, making my heart swirl.
The door behind me opened and broke me from his trance. It was showtime, and we exited the vehicle. My anxiety kicked up a notch. Nothing beat pre-wedding jitters.
“Hold the car for us,” Mitt instructed the chauffeur as he handed him two hundred-dollar bills and leaned in close. “But this time, slow down. The future Mrs. Morgan is precious cargo.”
Mitt patted the driver, whose Adam’s apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, on the shoulder, and he escorted me inside. I should have felt bad for him, but I didn’t. His driving skills were lacking, and he needed a reality check. Mitt had given him an obvious message—proceed with caution.
We walked through the wooden double doors. Mitt held the door for me, and there was no one there except a man with a briefcase. The balding older man was busy on his cell phone until he heard us and glanced up. A welcoming smile appeared on his face as he stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Mr. Morgan, I presume?”
“Yes,” Mitt replied as he shook his hand and nodded toward the briefcase. “I expect you have what I asked for?”
“Absolutely,” he assured Mitt as he turned his attention toward me and extended his hand. “I’m Elliot from Harry Winston jewelers.”
“Hello, Elliot.” I shook his hand and glanced at Mitt in confusion. “What’s going on here?”
“Look for yourself,” Mitt answered with a nod at the briefcase.
Elliot wasted no time and flipped the latch to reveal what was inside the black leather case. I didn’t know what to expect. Everything was happening quickly. A proposal, a flight to another state, and my feelings blasted into overdrive. This was all too much and I...
Ate my words.
My hand slapped over my agape mouth, and I couldn’t believe the stunning sight before me. Two Harry Winston diamond wedding rings—and not just any regular bands. They were huge! Probably worth thousands of dollars.
“Here we have a 33.36 carat light pink diamond with a flawless rectangular cut and one-of-a-kind gem by Harry Winston worth $14 million,” Elliot explained as he showed off the wedding rings, and they sparkled in the light. “And next we have a 32.42 carat diamond with a unique pear-shape that is roughly the size of a cherry tomato by Harry Winston, worth $3.7 million.”
“Oh. My. God,” I breathed out each word, completely awestruck.
“Which will it be, angel?” Mitt asked me as I glanced from him and down toward the rings.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I am dead serious. I contacted them from the jet,” Mitt answered with certainty.
“I can’t accept this.” I shook my head. “This is too much.”
“No, it’s not. My bride deserves to pick out the wedding band she’ll be wearing for the rest of her life.”
“But these are worth millions!” I exclaimed with my hands up in the air.
Mitt grabbed me by the wrists and peered straight into my eyes. “And you deserve millions more.”
The pressure to cave was unbearable, and the rings were remarkable. They were beyond my wildest dreams for a ring on my finger, but everything about this marriage was out of the ordinary. Mitt was extraordinary. He was perfection.
“Mitt... I don’t know.” I hesitated.
“Pick one,” Mitt urged as his lips brushed each knuckle on my hand, and I crumbled at his feet. “If not for yourself, do it for Elliot, who took this time away from his family to be here on Christmas Day.”
Shit. He had a point. No wonder the poor man kept looking at his cell phone. His family was probably wondering when he’ll return home. But here I was, unsure about accepting a ring worth more than anything I had ever imagined I’d ever own!
“Well, the pink ring caught my eye...” I shrugged my shoulders and flashed a shy smile. “It can’t hurt to try it on, right?”
“That’s my girl,” Mitt grinned, and he reached out for the diamond ring. “Let’s see if I have the right size.”
Mitt slipped the ring on my finger with ease, and it didn’t get stuck. The wedding band fell into place where it should, and the ring was the perfect fit. The $14 million ring was a match made in heaven.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered.
“Exquisite,” Elliot said.
“It’s beautiful,” Mitt breathed as I peered up, and he was staring straight at me.
Mitt lost himself in me and I fell into his spell. We were a swirl of emotions as we peered into each other’s eyes and the world melted away. His hand held mine, and the pad of his thumb stroked back and forth. His touch was a dangerous concoction that would surely explode.
“And my work is done!” Elliot snapped the briefcase closed, and the sound startled us back to the present.
Mitt cleared his throat. “A job well-done. Thank you for your time.”
“It was my pleasure, Mr. Morgan, and congratulations to you both. You make a lovely couple,” Elliot said as he carried the briefcase toward the door and glanced back with a wave. “Merry Christmas.”
He departed through the double doors and out into the frosty morning. The breeze blew back at us, but I barely experienced the chill. Mitt had me as warm as logs smoking on the fire, and if I wasn’t careful, I might burn. Go up in a puff of smoke, but from the gleam in Mitt’s eyes, he’d go up in flames with me.