Page 85 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
“Have a good evening, Mr. Mitchell.”
“You do the same.”
I walked into the boutique Avery always used when she needed gowns tailored for galas and company events.
“Mr. Mitchell,” the receptionist said with a polite smile, “your wife and daughters are just through those doors.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, heading down the corridor.
“Mrs. Mitchell,” a voice drifted through the air as I entered the dressing lounge. “The girls will be an absolute vision tomorrow—a stunning statement for both the company and their father,” announced Avery’s tailor, Jacques.
I stepped in and froze. Jesus.
Izzy stood in front of the mirror in an emerald green dress that shimmered like crushed velvet under the lights. She looked utterly adorable in her white stockings and patent shoes. Her curled hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail with a matching velvet bow. She looked like a perfect portrait of a porcelain doll come to life.
My heart stopped when Addy pulled back the curtain from her dressing room.
Even Jacques gasped before immediately flurrying around her, adjusting the hem of her floor-length burgundy gown. Her long, black hair was curled over one shoulder, and even her irritated eye roll, aimed at the tailor fussing over her, made me smirk.
She was all Avery. Beautiful and poised and just annoyed enough to remind me of the first time I dragged her mom to one of these things.
Avery stood nearby, laughing with Jacques and admiring the finished looks. And before I could stop it, something cracked open in my chest.
Our beautiful girls looked older.
Too old.
Addy didn’t look fifteen; instead, she looked ready to take on the world. God help me, and next year she’d be driving. And Izzy? She still had that tiny nose like Avery, and my green eyes, but even she was growing too fast.
God, where did our little girls go?
I had to inhale and reel it in. I had to refocus.
Honestly, this wasn’t the time for nostalgia, nor was it for me to be a dad unwilling to let my baby girls grow older. It was a time for celebration. Tomorrow, the girls and I would throw a party no one would forget—something magical. It would be a night that would rival anything Cat and Avery had put together.
And seeing them now, knowing how they’d shine tomorrow? I was more determined than ever to make sure the night we created together would outshine every last candy-cane-covered square inch of Paramount Studios.
Avery turned and saw me, and as always, she looked gorgeous when she was caught off guard.
Her eyes hit me like a direct current, sharp, alert, and a little surprised. But then that signature spark lit behind them. The look that said she already knew I had something up my sleeve.
I leaned against the archway, arms crossed, doing my best not to let the smirk hit full tilt across my mouth. But hell, watching her try to stay composed in that sleek little coat, cheeks still flushed from being held under my gaze? It was impossible not to enjoy the effect I still had on her.
“You’re early,” she said, walking toward me.
I took her in like a man starved. “I wanted to see my gorgeous wife before I stole the girls away for the evening.”
Truth, plain and simple. But I also wanted to take a look at the gowns and see the girls in all their holiday regalia before we headed out. And, if I were being honest, I wanted to get the edge. Avery’s party was going to be some type of London winter masterpiece. But mine? Mine needed tofeellike Christmas morning. And it would.
“Also,” I added, leaning down just enough that my breath brushed her ear, “I wanted to get a preview of what I’m up against tomorrow.”
Her soft laugh was everything.
Her blue eyes glistened while we talked quietly, “That’s not happening here. This is just dress fittings.”
I let my lips graze her temple. “I’ve been raised to understand how outfits serve the purpose of their destination. So, whatever our girls are wearing just allows me another peek into your London party.”
She smiled, “Good, then I hope you approve because these are their dresses foryourparty.”
