Page 62 of Worth the Wait

“I have a job there,” I tried to explain, hoping it didn’t sound like as flimsy of an excuse as it felt.

“You could have a job here.” She sniffled and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Mama just said you could. At the resort. You love the resort. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then, you should work there.” She shrugged her little shoulders like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Or at least, maybe it should be.

MY HEART GREW FONDER

ADDISON

Clarabel, Thomas, and Brooklyn headed out of Patrick’s house hand in hand, and I watched them walk all the way to their car, get situated in it, and finally drive away.

“Why do I feel like my heart’s breaking all over again?” I said out loud.

Patrick was there in an instant, his strong arms wrapped around me from the back, holding me tight.

“Because you know this is where you belong,” he said as he spun me around to face him.

His fingertips grazed my chin as he lifted it, and my eyes crashed into his. I licked my lips, and that was all it took for him to lose any self-control he might have been holding on to. His mouth covered mine, his tongue pressing against my own, and I swore if it wasn’t for his arms holding me up, I would have fallen straight to the floor. My knees felt like they might buckle at any second.

“Tell me you remember this house. It’s the one we dreamed up together,” he said as he broke the kiss, but started planting new ones on my neck, my cheek, and my ear.

“Of course I do,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What else do you remember, Addi?” he whispered against me, his breath warm.

“Everything,” I admitted because I did. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

“Then, come home, love. Come back to me. I’m a ghost of a person without you,” he said, and I almost broke down into tears.

My body filled with need. I ached to close the space between us, to feel his skin against mine, to have him inside me. I wanted to forget where I ended and Patrick began. I’d denied myself any kind of emotional or physical connection since I’d moved away, knowing that no one could ever compare to the man standing before me.

“Show me the bedroom?” I asked.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me past the stairway that led up to Clarabel’s room and toward a giant wooden door.

Outside of the room and on the wall was a framed sketch with handwritten notes. It was the original drawing for the house that Patrick had done one afternoon when we were daydreaming about our future. I ran my fingers across the glass and smiled to myself before Patrick opened the door and stepped in.

When I walked into the massive space, I dropped his hand and blew out a breath. The room looked like it was straight out ofCountry Livingmagazine, with oversize windows that looked out at the property as far as the eye could see. I headed straight for them, my eyes taking it all in.

When I spotted what looked like the edges of a couple of structures, I narrowed my eyes and tried to see. “What are those?” I pointed, and Patrick joined me at the window.

“My workshop and the greenhouse,” he said as if they were no big deal.

“You built a greenhouse?”

He shrugged. “You always said you wanted to grow your own herbs and vegetables for cooking. That’s the only way to do it in our climate.”

“So, you just built a greenhouse for me?”

“I built this whole damn place for you,” he said matter-of-factly before adding, “Well, for us. I built this for us, love. It had always been our dream. It was still mine. And I hoped, one day, it might be yours again too.”

How was this man real? Guys like him were only supposed to exist in romance books and movies. But here he was, even better with age and time.

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