Page 14 of Worth the Wait

“What? Why?” I asked, even though it was kind of a dumb question.

Seeing Patrick’s face every time I reached for my phone should have caused me constant pain, but sometimes, it gave me comfort instead.

“There’s a guy I want you to meet,” she said before polishing off her glass in one large gulp.

“Sarina, no,” I breathed out. “I thought you were just saying that to get Mother off your back earlier.”

“Come on, Addison. You have to at least be open to the possibility of meeting someone new. Right?”

Her words made me grow defensive. Why did I have to meet someone new? What if I didn’t want to? Plus, I didn’t have time for a relationship.

“I really don’t.”

“Are you going back to Sugar Mountain when your agreement with the restaurant ends?” she asked.

It was something I still didn’t know the answer to.

Even though most restaurants didn’t require chefs to sign a contract for a specific employment term, I’d verbally agreed to work for one year. It was a promise I’d made to the man who’d given me this shot and to myself. A year felt like a respectable length of time. I had about six months left.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, even though I knew the exact day my verbal contract ended and was subconsciously counting it down.

“Then, change that wallpaper. Please. Just for tonight.” She put her hands together in prayer pose and gave me a pout.

I pulled the phone away from her gaze; responded to the text, asking where the fresh basil was hiding; and did not even remotely think about changing my phone’s background. Doing that would signal to the world that I’d officially given up. I wasn’t ready to do that, even though any sane person would most likely tell me that it was over a long time ago. If that was the final nail in our coffin, I refused to be the one to hammer it in.

“Is there anything I need to know about this event? Do we have talking points?” I found myself asking as I finished off my glass.

“We’re not going on a talk show, Addi.” Sarina laughed, her eyes narrowing with my apparently inane question. “Just be yourself. I’ll do the rest.”

She poured us both some more bubbly, and we downed it right as we arrived. When the limo pulled up to the building where the event was being held, I felt myself fighting back an audible gasp. It looked like a scene out of a movie—the red carpet lining the center of the stairway while a plethora of press and paparazzi, with cameras and microphones in hand, lined each side.

“This is crazy.” I looked at all the fancy decorations and lights.

Sometimes, New York could be charming, and this was definitely one of those times.

“Ready?” Sarina asked as she angled her body toward the car door.

“As I’ll ever be,” I answered because I had no idea what we were in for.

Our driver stopped the car, and a gentleman in a suit opened our door immediately. He extended his hand toward Sarina. I watched as she expertly navigated getting out of the car without showing off her goodies in the process. The cameras snapped and flashed, and her name was being shouted from every direction.

I’d known my sister was popular, but I’d had no idea it was like this. When the gentleman returned for me, I gave him my hand, and the flashes were blinding. I’d figured they’d all take one look at me, know I wasn’t anyone famous, and not bother even taking my photo.

“Sarina, who did you bring with you?” someone shouted from somewhere.

My eyes were trying to adjust to the lights, but it was no use.

“This is my sister, Addison. Addison Whitman. Isn’t she gorg?” she announced like I was the star instead of her, and the flashes and cameras went wild once more. “She’s a big up-and-coming chef,” she declared before I could stop her.

I must have looked uncomfortable or something because she leaned toward me and whispered, “Smile, Addison.”

I did as she’d requested, and honestly, it wasn’t too bad. We moved the way the photographers asked us, looking in one direction before spinning toward the other. I’d figured being the focus of their attention would be unnerving, but it was more thrilling than anything else. But when two guys appeared at our sides, acting like they belonged there, I instantly tensed.

“Oh. Mason, Jamison, hi. Take some pictures with me and my sister, please, and escort us inside,” Sarina insisted.

Before I knew it, I was on the arm of some guy I didn’t even know, posing for photos and walking up the long staircase with him.

Honestly, I was grateful for his help because the flashes didn’t stop until we were all the way at the top.

---