The Wedding Date Disaster - Avery Flynn Page 0,94

She got two steps before his voice stopped her.

“I was wrong. My assumptions most definitely made an ass out of me. But you? I want to make you the sole beneficiary of the Donavan Trust. You’ll be one of the richest women in Harbor City.”

Shock poured over her like ice water and she whipped around to face him. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to transfer everything into a trust for you,” he said as the upper crust of Harbor City gawked, taking in every syllable. “I want to make it yours. All of it.”

It took Hadley a second to process the meaning of his words. All of it? Hers? And by the time she did, the entire room was buzzing and cell phone cameras were aimed right at her.

“I don’t care about the damn money, Will,” she said, fury filling her like the bonfire she should have burned that damn cowboy hat in. “I wanted your love, not your money, but you never understood that. I’m not sure you can.”

Frustrated tears beating at the back of her eyes, she turned and rushed away before they had a chance to fall, going through the first door she passed.

What in the hell had he done?

He’d made it so no one could ever call Hadley a gold digger again, not when she was one of the richest women in the city. It all made perfect sense. How could she not see that, especially when he did it because he lo—

Realization rolled over him like the midtown bus rolling over an empty beer can.

Oh, fuck.

He was the dumbest human being alive.

Eyes wide and mouths agape, the Harbor City elite in tuxes and ballgowns split like an ocean parting as he made his way to the coat closet. Without a doubt, the news would be on the front pages of tomorrow’s paper. His grandmother would be on her way back to Harbor City from Paris on the family jet as soon as someone texted her the news so she could try to bully him in person. This was about to land him exactly where he hated to be—in the middle of the public eye—and he didn’t give two shits about the money or the exposure or anything else. All he cared about was Hadley, and he’d been an asshole to her.

Exhaling a deep breath, he turned the doorknob and walked inside. Hadley had her back to him as she stood at the back of the tiny room filled with jackets. The light from the single bulb above them gave him just enough light to see how her shoulders were shaking as she cried silently.

“Hadley. I fucked all of this up. Again,” he said, staying where he was so he wouldn’t crowd her or make her feel trapped. “The thing is, I love you. I’ve always loved you. It just took me a long time to realize it because, quite frankly, all the private schools I attended and my Ivy League MBA didn’t prepare me for you. Hell, I don’t think anything could. You are a force of nature.”

She didn’t turn, but he could tell from the way her body stilled that she’d stopped crying and the tilt of her head told him she was listening. Christ, this was hard. Feelings. Who in the hell had invented those? They were swarming him, making him hot and cold at the same time while his heart was going fast enough to make him worry he’d keel over before he could get the words out, but he’d be damned if he’d let that stop him.

“Here’s the thing: I should have realized I loved you the first time I saw you standing along the sidelines of that rugby game. Your nose was red with cold, you were white-knuckling that dripping coffee travel mug, and when I offered you my coat, you turned me down because you didn’t need a damn thing from me.”

Hadley turned around. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she nailed him to the wall with a glare anyway. “I didn’t want anything from you. Not then. Not now.”

“I know.” Knowing there was no way it was a good idea but unable to stop himself, he stepped forward, just enough to be within touching distance if she reached out. He wanted to always be there for her, whenever she needed him—all she had to do was reach out. “The money, it was a gesture—a stupid one, I’m realizing—to show you that you never had to worry

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