The Billionaire Ran Away From His Wedding — Then He Fell in Love With a Waitress

To the merger of two empires manned and of course two hearts. Smile wider. The press boat is circling. I don’t even know your middle name. Does it matter? Our fathers signed the paperwork already. Adrian! Is there a bus station or anywhere I can disappear for a while? Depends what you’re running from. Long story. Cape Harlow’s a small town, buddy. We’ve got nothing but time. Here. What do I call you? Alex. Just Alex. Just Alex. All right. Just Alex. Do you have an ID with you? No. Nothing. So you’re a broke stranger who swims into town looking like he escaped a wedding. That’s That’s not far off, actually.

We need dish help in the back. Um pay’s bad, but there’s a cot in the storage room if you’ve really got nowhere else. Thank you. I mean that. Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t met my grease trap. You’re doing that wrong. There’s a wrong way to wash a plate? There’s a wrong way to do everything if you try hard enough. Here. You’re very patient for someone who found a stranger dripping on her dock a week ago. You look like you needed someone to be patient with you. Can I ask you something? Doesn’t this town ever feel small? Like there’s a whole world out there you’re missing? I used to think that. Then my dad got sick. And I stayed to help run the diner instead of finishing school. Now I just try to make this small world good instead of chasing a big one that was never really mine. I spent my whole life chasing a big world I never actually wanted. Is that what you’re running from? The big world? Something like that. You don’t have to to me the whole story. Just don’t lie to me about the parts you do tell me. That’s the only rule I’ve got. Deal. I have genuinely never done this before.

What? Dancing?

Dancing without cameras pointed at me. Oh.

You’ve never once mentioned family. Friends, anyone looking for you? There’s people looking for me. I just don’t know if any of them are looking for me or for what I’m supposed to represent.

That’s a sad way to live. It was.

Until I ended up here. Alex. I know. I know I’m not being fully honest with you. I will be. Just not yet. Okay. Not yet. But someday. I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry.

So, you have to loosen this bolt right here. Let me try. Wow, it’s stuck. You’re actually decent at this now. High praise coming from you. Don’t let it go to your head, just Alex. I don’t want to be anyone else right now.

Not even for a second.

Mia. You’re a billionaire. You let me believe you were some broke guy who washed up on my dock. I need you to leave. Tonight.

Three weeks, Adrian. Three weeks of PR nightmares. Of me telling the board you were handling personal matters. Get in the car. I’m not marrying Vic- Toria.

This isn’t a discussion. The merger depends on this wedding. Your entire inheritance depends on this wedding. Then let it depend on something else. For the first time in my life, I don’t want the inheritance more than I want to stay here. Because of some diner girl? Because of the only 3 weeks of my life that ever felt like mine.

You’ve wiped that same table four times. It’s dirty. It’s spotless, kid.

Talk to me. He lied to me, Dad. About everything. His whole name. His whole life. Did he lie about how he Or just about who signs his checks?

Seems worth finding out before you let him disappear for good, doesn’t it?

You really jumped off a yacht for a diner in the middle of nowhere.

I’m sorry. For all of it.

You didn’t deserve to be part of a business deal disguised as a wedding, either. You’re right. I’ve been trying to get out of this arrangement for months. I just didn’t have the nerve to jump off a boat to do it. You’re not upset? I’m relieved, honestly. Someone should get a happy ending out of this mess. If you walk away from this merger, you walk away from the company. No inheritance. No seat. Then I walk away. I spent my whole life thinking this company was the only thing that made me worth something. I’ve never felt more like myself than scrubbing dishes and fixing a broken motor with someone who had no idea how much money I was supposed to be worth.

What I know.

I’m not here for food. I gave it up. All of it.

I’m not Adrian Whitmore anymore. Not really. I don’t want to be. You don’t have to give up your entire life for me. I’m not doing it for you. Because for 3 weeks washing dishes badly in your kitchen was the first time I actually recognized the person looking back at me in a mirror. I want that person. Not the one from the yacht. You should have told me from the start. I know. You don’t get to disappear on me again. Ever. Even if it’s just for a weekend business trip. There’s no business left to trip for.

I’m so relieved.