Page 20 of Worth the Wait

“Nice pictures.” Matthew grinned, and a gruff laugh escaped.

“Tell her it’s time to come home,” Thomas pushed, his voice dead serious.

I shook my head in response. “I can’t do that.”

Even though I wanted to. God, I wanted to text Addi every single day and tell her that it was time. Time to come back. Time to come home. That I was still waiting for her. That I’d always be waiting.

But it had to be her decision. Her choice. If she returned to Sugar Mountain, it couldn’t be because I’d asked her to do it. Addi needed towantto be here. It had to come from her. Otherwise, she’d eventually hate me for making her leave New York. Maybe not right away, but somewhere down the line, resentment would rear its ugly head and bite mine clean off. I wouldn’t survive losing her twice.

“Have we all forgotten that Addison was clearly on a date last night? With someone who wasn’t our charming brother here,” Matthew mentioned.A-fucking-gain.“He can’t call her now. It’s too late. She’s moved on.”

Thomas waved both hands in the air. “Maybe it wasn’t a date?”

“Sure looked like a date,” Matthew added before taking his helpfulness a step further. “Do you think it looks like a date?”

He shoved his phone in front of my face, and I smacked it away harder than necessary. It crashed to the floor, and Jasper barked.

“I swear, if the screen is cracked, you’re getting me a new one.”

Matthew reached toward the ground, picked up his phone, and inspected it. “Phew. You’re lucky.”

“I don’t care,” I said through my annoyance. “Are you guys leaving anytime soon?”

Them being here wasn’t helping a damn thing. And I wanted to be alone with my shitty feelings and my even shittier mood. I felt the need to build something, but I swore that every single plan on my list was because of Addi. The wedding barn at the resort. This entire house, down to the color of the window trim. And the restaurant on Main Street.

The one no one knew about. Not even my brothers. Only the out-of-towner I’d bought it from and the notary at the bank knew that I owned the space. And if Addi never came back home again, it would stay that way forever.

THIS IS WILD

ADDISON

My cell phone was blowing up in a way that hadn’t happened since I’d graduated from high school. Granted, the majority of those texts had been from distant relatives, but still. When I grabbed my phone from my pocket and saw the number of messages waiting for me, I almost turned it off. But then my mind instantly flew to Patrick. What if something was wrong with him?

I clicked on the first message just to make sure it wasn’t about him. It was from a number I didn’t recognize, asking me for a statement. Confused, I quickly scrolled through the rest of the texts and saw the same type of question being asked over and over again, all from numbers I didn’t recognize, each one claiming to be a different member of the press.

Assuming they had the wrong person, I powered it down until my shift at the restaurant was over. I didn’t have time to deal with my phone blowing up while I was trying to work. With my feet aching and my head pounding, I wrapped up my shift and untied my apron before hanging it in my staff locker.

“You looked stunning last night, Chef,” one of the kitchen staff said, and I looked around to see if he was talking to me.

I pointed a finger at my chest. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Didn’t know you knew Jamison,” he said with a grin, and I had no idea what the heck he was talking about.

“I don’t. Not really. Just met him last night for, like, two seconds,” I overexplained, which almost made it sound like I was lying.

“Well, the pictures look really nice, Chef,” he said.

I still wasn’t sure what he meant, but I wasn’t in the mood to ask.

I just wanted to get home, drink about a gallon of water, and soak in a hot bath. As I made my way out of the restaurant and onto the street, a man suddenly approached me.

“Chef Whitman?” he asked.

I scanned the length of his body to check out his appearance. He was severely overdressed for the middle of the day.

“Maybe?” I answered, unsure of who this man was or what he wanted.

He laughed and extended a hand. “I’m Frederique Ferdinand,” he said, and my mind spun.

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