Page 68 of Worth the Wait

This time was different somehow. I was older now and supposedly wiser. Walking away from him a second time felt more permanent. Like I was burying our relationship six feet under with no way to revive it.

As I drove away from his house, the tears were falling nonstop, blurring my vision almost completely. I had to pull over on my way to wipe the water away, but it was no use. They wouldn’t stop pouring out of my eyes.

Patrick must have thought that I was absolutely insane. Probably assumed that he didn’t know me at all anymore when that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I knew that all the cruel things he’d said to me stemmed from his own pain. I also knew that I was the one who had caused it all, so in a way, I deserved to hear the words he tossed at me like knives. They’d still hurt like hell to hear though.

The man had built us a home. With his own bare hands. Who the hell did that kind of thing? The man who loved me—that was who. And that was exactly why my dad had told me to come over here. He knew that I had to see with my own eyes what was waiting for me. What Patrick had done. How much he still loved me and wanted a life with me.

Our love had always been bigger than we were. It wasn’t childish or something you got over. No. What Patrick and I had was the kind of thing that stood the test of time; it didn’t fade with the passing of it. How was I supposed to go back to New York and pretend like I could live without it?

When I could finally see again, I pulled onto the road and into my childhood home, wiping the stray tears from my face, knowing that my cheeks had to be stained from all the salt. Sarina flew through the front door and ran toward me, her voice loud and obnoxious.

“You’ve been gone for hours,” she complained, but I knew there was no way she’d even been awake for that long.

Glancing at the clock on the radio, I figured she’d been up for an hour at most.

She pulled open the driver’s door, her face contorting. “You’re crying. What happened?”

She looked so concerned before her demeanor changed completely.

She started sniffing the air around me like a dog searching for a treat.

Swatting her away as I moved to get out, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“Sex,” she said with a devious grin. “You had sex. I smell it on you.” Her jaw dropped open. “You little hussy.”

I could deny it, but there would be no point. She was right, and I was a crappy liar anyway.

“How do you expect me to resist him? Especially after I saw the house he freaking built for us. He built us a house, Sarina! A WHOLE HOUSE!”

“Was it amazing? The house, not the sex. I assumed it would be some little shack or a tiny bungalow.” She waved a hand. “You know, like a love shack for two.” She waggled her eyebrows, and I fought back a laugh as I wiped at my face once more.

“Oh, it’s definitely no shack. And it’s for far more than two,” I said, shaking my head. I still couldn’t believe what Patrick had done.

“Really? Did you take any pictures?” she asked, and I realized that I hadn’t. My phone had been the last thing on my mind.

“No. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Ugh. It’s like you don’t even have a social media influencer for a sister or something. Let’s go inside. I’m freezing.” She started shaking her shoulders before turning her back to me and running inside.

I slammed the car door shut a little too hard before walking slowly toward the house. The conflicting emotions warring inside me were almost too much to sort through. I wasn’t unsure about my feelings for Patrick. I’d never questioned those.

It was this stupid offer for the restaurant and all the people I’d let down if I said no. I hated that I felt so obligated to them when, logically, I owed no one, except myself, a damn thing. And of course, the offer was exciting and flattering, but was it what I even wanted anymore?

I finally stepped inside the threshold, and my dad shouted from his chair in the living room, “So? How was it?”

Making my way down the hallway, I passed the framed pictures on the wall without looking. I had them all memorized anyway. When I got into the living room, Sarina was sitting with her legs tucked up underneath her, a knowing smile on her face, and my dad was looking at me like he already knew how seeing that house had made me feel.

“Sit. Tell me everything,” he said.

Sarina started coughing before she slapped her chest with her palm. He whipped his head to look at her before his eyes met mine once more.

“Maybe not everything.” He dragged out the last word.

I shook my head at my little sister before plopping down on the couch next to her.

“Dad,” I breathed out, and the tears started to fall again. “I can’t stop crying,” I said, as if he couldn’t see that fact for himself.

“I noticed,” he quipped.

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