Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

Cal knows something is up. I haven’t done a great job at hiding it, but Cal reads me like his favorite book—every single highlight memorized and every other page tabbed.

His ability to recognize my tells is what makes him perfect at playing me like a fool. He knows which buttons to push and what magic words to say, leaving me vulnerable to his manipulations.

Not anymore.

I stare up at the night sky. Water slaps against the dock, filling the silence. Besides the quick rustle of Cami’s sheets making the baby monitor crackle, I’m left alone with my thoughts.

What a miserable place to be.

I’m not sure how long I sit under the stars, watching the moon’s reflection dance across the water. Coming out here was a risk, but one I found worth taking.

I knew it was only a matter of time before Cal cornered me on the dock. After all, it’s where our story began.

“You’re going to fall in if you’re not careful.”

I look away from the glittering water. My neck cranes as I take in the tall kid with hair that matches the sun shining above us and blue eyes that rival the water in front of us, clearer than a cloudless day.

Everything about him screams money. Boat shoes. Pastel shorts. Striped T-shirt.

I haven’t seen him before, but that isn’t saying much. My family only just moved here from Colombia.

My nose wrinkles. “No hablo inglés.”

His eyes sparkle. “Que raro. Te he escuchado hablar con tu mamá en inglés antes.”

Damn. Busted.

“My name is Cal.” He smiles.

“Cal?” My accent peeks through, accentuating the ah sound.

He laughs as he drops on to the dock and crisscrosses his legs next to me.

“What are you doing?” I try my best to annunciate my words like how I learned from watching too much American TV after school.

“Grandpa told me you moved here from Colombia a few weeks ago.”

My chest tightens as I think about home. Mami wanted a fresh start after Papi left us, so she called a cousin who moved to the States and bought three one-way plane tickets. Anto has spent most of her days locked in her room, while I’ve hung out by the lake by myself, ignoring my mom. If I’m going to protest living here, I might as well enjoy the view.

“Yup.” Maybe if I keep my answers short, he will go away.

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any friends here?”

I release a heavy breath. “Why are you asking?”

“You looked lonely.”

Because I am. “So?”

“So, I thought we could be friends.”

“I don’t want any.” Making friends with anyone might make Mami believe I’m happy about living here. And if she thinks I like it here, then we will never move back to Colombia.

His smile widens, taking up the lower half of his face. “Okay. No friends.”

He doesn’t leave, which only annoys me more. Instead, he stares out at the lake and taps his fingers against the wood plank in a mindless patter.

I clamp my hand over his to stop the tapping sound. “Will you stop?”

“Sorry.” His cheeks turn pink. “I can’t help it sometimes.”

“Why?”

He looks away from me. “Because I’ve got issues.”

“Says who?”

“My dad.”

My lips purse. “Sounds like a pendejo.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “What does that mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, but I think it’s a bad word. My mom said it to my dad when he made her cry.” My chest aches at the memory, but I do my best to push the thought away.

“Pendejo. I like it. What other bad words do you know?”

I spend the rest of the afternoon teaching Cal a bunch of bad words I have overheard, and he teaches me the English equivalent. By the time my mom is calling us in for dinner, I realize the sun has already set and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Are you eating with us tonight?” Cal offers me his hand.

I take it and gasp at the little tingle in my fingers. “You shocked me!”

He laughs, which makes me laugh.

For the first time since I moved to America, I wonder if it isn’t the worst thing in the world to make a friend…

“Lana.”

The memory shimmers away, and the younger version of Cal is replaced by the man. The same man who broke my heart again, although this time feels even worse than the last. Before, I had hope he could get better. That he would snap out of his selfish behavior and choose to be a bigger, better version of himself.

That hope was nothing but a lie I told myself to feel good about our situation.

“Mind if I take a seat?” he asks.

I stare out at the lake without replying.

He leaves room between us as he sits down next to me. My pinky finger yearns to interlock with his, but I repress any urge to touch him by holding on to my anger.

“What’s wrong?” He looks over at me.

“A lot of things.” I continue to face forward, although the feel of his gaze tempts me to turn toward him.

“Want to talk about it?”

No, but what choice do I have? It’s not like I can ignore Cal forever, and now that Dreamland is no longer an issue, I’d rather get everything off my chest so he can leave once and for all.