Fuck the scotch. He needed something more like bare-knuckle boxing than golf on the highlands. “The biggest, highest-proof shot you’ve got.”
The bartender didn’t ask twice; he just reached for a bottle of clear liquid on the bottom shelf and poured a double. “Woman or family?” he asked as he set the shot down in front of Will.
“Both,” he said before downing the liquor. It left a burning trail of fire from his tongue to his gut, and he couldn’t wait to have another.
“Well, don’t look now,” the bartender said. “But I’m guessing the family just walked in.”
Will looked over his shoulder and there was Web. His brother must have followed him, and he was in too much of a fog to notice. Web sauntered over and sat down on the stool next to him.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” Then Web turned to Will. “So you really fucked this up, huh?”
Will lifted his empty glass in the universal sign for one more. “You really have to ask?”
“Not judging by how shitty you look.” Web sniffed the single shot the bartender put down in front of him and then downed it.
“Is that your new thing, telling me how crappy I look? You do realize we look exactly the same.”
“Maybe, but at least I’m wearing shoes that match, and I look like I slept sometime in the past twenty years.”
The bartender didn’t say anything, but the look he slung at Will when he dropped off another shot—a single this time—pretty much yelled he’s right. Will scoffed and slammed back the liquor. Whatever was in his glass tasted like radioactive poison, but that was fine. It’s what he deserved.
“Why don’t you go home,” he snarled at his brother. “Just leave me alone.”
Web laughed as if he were having the time of his life. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You just take a cab and bam, you’re there.”
“You aren’t going to figure out how to fix this on your own. You’re fucking it up even more than you already have by wimping out.”
Fury and whatever he’d been drinking had him up off the stool on the inhale, then grabbing his brother by the shirt collar and hauling him up on the exhale. “Don’t tell me what I’m doing. I know what I’m doing. I’m walking away because she doesn’t want me.”
Web didn’t flinch. “Or is it because you just can’t stand to admit you were wrong about her, about how you feel, and about what’s really important?”
Important? Will had always known what was important. He’d been protecting his brother practically since he was born. That’s what older brothers did. They watched over the younger ones. They protected the family fortune. They made sure that they always won, they were always right, that nothing bad ever happened. Like their parents dying. Like going to boarding school when they were so young. Like falling in love with the woman he’d thought was out for his brother’s money and then accusing her of being a gold digger to cover up his feelings.
Fuck.
He let go of Web and slumped back onto his stool, realization like a million-pound weight on his shoulders.
“I failed at everything. I’m sorry.”
“My God, you’re an idiot. You’re one of the most successful people I know, but you can’t control everything. Anyway, you’re my favorite brother.”
“I’m your only brother.”
“What can I say, I have low standards.”
But Hadley didn’t. “How do I make this up to her? Diamonds? That’s what our grandmother always wanted.”
Web grimaced. “Oh yeah, nothing shows affection and esteem like sparkly things.”
“That was about as close to a nursery rhyme as she ever told us,” Will said, covering the shot glass with his hand when the bartender held up the mystery bottle again.
He’d spent his entire life thinking that buying someone’s affection was normal, and then he met Hadley. Seeing her with her family was like stepping into another dimension. For them, it wasn’t the money that mattered but time and togetherness. Even with all his money, he couldn’t buy that. Hell, even if Hadley had his money, she’d probably spend it on helping her family’s new business, charities, and getting out to see them more often.
Something settled in his chest, a certainty that he knew what he needed to do next.
“I gotta get to that fundraiser,” he said. “I have to get Hadley back.”
“Finally.” Web held up his car keys and jingled them. “Let’s go.”
The Porsche logo on the key fob caught the light and on the next heartbeat, Will knew exactly what he needed to do to show Hadley he understood exactly how wrong he’d been about her. The chances of it working might be slim, but as a space cowboy once said, never tell him the odds.
Fuck the odds. He had to believe this would work.
Chapter Twenty
Toes pinched from the shoes she’d borrowed from Fiona and wearing a cocktail dress tailored via safety pins, Hadley kept her chin high and her steps steady as she walked by the coat closet—yes, the coat closet—at the hotel ballroom. Of course, up until that moment, she refused to notice the coat closet. She’d barely even glanced in that direction. Certainly, she hadn’t found an excuse to walk by it multiple times while working the floor at her very first fundraising event run by her fledgling company.
Nope.
She’d stayed clear.
And that whisper of “maybe he’ll show here, since he never appeared on your doorstep,” could just shut up already. Will was out of her life and good riddance to him. It wasn’t like she missed him or thought about him or dreamed about him every single night.
She didn’t.
Not.
At.
All.
He’d left. She’d blocked his number. Life went on.
Still, she searched the crowd in the ballroom, looking for the absolute worst man who she still loved because emotions were a bitch. If she could, she’d have hers surgically removed. Scientists really needed to get to work on that one. Maybe that could be her next charity funding recommendation.
Shoving all thoughts of Will into a deep, dark hole where they belonged, Hadley worked the room, talking with donors and influencers about the Holt Foundation Fund and the work it was doing to support Harbor City’s charities. Then the band started playing the first notes of a song that stopped her in her tracks. It was the song from Adalyn’s reception dance that they’d listened to repeatedly until she and Will had the steps down.
In half a breath, she could feel his arms around her again and could practically smell the musky scent of his cologne. Unable to stop herself, she whirled around to face the stage as her heart hammered in her chest, expecting to see Will standing up there. Her disappointed breath came out in a whoosh. It was just the band.
“May I have this dance?” Will asked, appearing all of a sudden on her other side.
Fighting a battle within herself, she took in the sight of him. The bastard didn’t just look good. He looked amazing. He wore a custom-made suit without a tie and the black cowboy hat she’d had every intention of burning before it had disappeared during the family festivities.
“Where did you get the hat?” Because that should really be the first thing you say to him. Way to go, Hads.
He tipped the brim and gave her a wink. “PawPaw sent it.”
“I should have known.” Was there anything her family didn’t lovingly involve themselves in? No, thank God.
Will held out his elbow to her. “Dance?”
There really wasn’t a way to get out of it without drawing attention, so she nodded in agreement, slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and made her way onto the dance floor.
The second he placed his palm on the small of her back and took her other hand in his so they could two-step, she gave in to the tide of rightness that followed. For a second, she allowed her eyes to close and let that sense of everything falling into place fill her. Did that make her weak? Maybe, but that was the thing with love. Even when it was inconvenient or wrong or perfect, it was there. A person couldn’t stop that. So she gave herself that moment to remember what could have been and pretend it still could be before opening her eyes to the reality of the situation.
Will was looking down at her, the depth of feeling in his eyes the best and worst thing to see at that moment when it was taking everything she had not to fall prey to that old fake-it-until-you-make-it feeling.
“Hadley, I’m sorry,” he said as they moved along to the music, each step bringing their bodies closer together until they were aligned, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. “I was wrong. I know that.”
She managed not to flinch, years of covering her true feelings coming in handy, but that didn’t mean his words didn’t hurt. They were all she’d wanted to hear, but how could she trust them after everything that had happened?
“I should have known all along what an idiot I was, but it turns out that defense mechanisms are a helluva thing to realize you’re using,” he went on. “It took Web telling me that I was acting like our grandmother for me to really open my eyes to what I was doing. Please, say you’ll give us another chance.”