Page 79 of Worth the Wait

He reached out his hand once more, and I grabbed it firmly.

“Of course it does. She’s all yours, Patrick. She always has been.”

“Thank you, Jeremiah. I’ll take good care of her,” I said as my heart pounded inside my chest.

“I have no doubt about that. Can’t believe she’s really home.”

“I know. It’s about damn time.”

He jutted his chin. “Go. Cut that mop on your head.”

“Fine,” I growled before pointing at him. “But you’re coming to Sunday dinner at the farm. Don’t even think about getting out of it.”

He smiled, his teeth on full display. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

NEVER SEEN A HAIRCUT BEFORE

PATRICK

“What were you and my dad talking about?” Addi asked as soon as I got in the truck.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” I teased, and she forced a frown.

“I might slip and buzz your hair clean off.” She grimaced, but I couldn’t have cared less. It would grow back if she did that anyway. “I wouldn’t do that,” she said, taking back her threat. “I’m excited to cut your hair.”

“I thought you liked it long?” I tossed her a look.

“I do, but I always used to cut your hair.”

A laugh escaped from somewhere deep in me. “Yeah. Ever since you watched me get harassed by a pair of boobs in high school at the salon.”

She made an annoyed sound. “She was shoving them all over your face. In your cheek when she cut the sides. In your freaking nose when she stood in front of you for no reason at all, I might add.”

“You were jealous,” I declared, actually loving that particular memory. It was one of my favorites.

“Hell yes, I was jealous. She was, like, twenty-two and trying to steal my man with her perfect boobs,” Addi shouted, and Jasper whined. “I barely even had boobs then. I couldn’t compete with that.”

I reached my hand across Jasper’s body to grab on to any part of Addi I could. “There was never any competition, love.”

“I still didn’t like it. No more haircuts for you,” she huffed, acting like it had just happened a minute ago instead of years.

“Why do you think I haven’t gotten one?”

She whipped her head to look at me so fast; I saw it in my peripheral vision. “That’s the real reason?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed.” I gave her a lopsided grin as she swatted my shoulder. “My personal stylist moved to New York. I’ve been lost without her.”

“Well, I’m back now!” she declared by throwing a hand in the air. “Only boobs in your face during a haircut will be mine. They finally grew in, by the way, in case you didn’t notice.”

Another laugh bubbled up. “Oh, believe me, I noticed. They’re the only boobs I want anyway.”

She let out a dreamy-sounding sigh. “We have so much history together. It feels like everything has some kind of nostalgia tied to it.”

“I know. I couldn’t get rid of the things that made me think of you.”

It was a simple statement, but it was true. She’d touched so many parts in my life that I’d become a hoarder of sorts. A collector of memories. An Addi connoisseur.

“Like this truck?” she said, but it came out as a question.

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