Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

So, against every cell in my body telling me to run far away from the kid, I stay in my room, waiting for the little wrecking ball to come back with whatever she thinks will make me better. Hopefully it’s a bottle of Advil and a glass of water.

A knock on my door has my head whipping in the direction of the sound. The rapid pace of my heart makes my ears pound.

Lana leans against the doorframe. “Do you have a minute?”

I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “Sure.”

She steps inside my room and shuts the door behind her. With the way she stares at me, empty and unflinching, my stomach feels about ready to purge itself of last night’s bar food.

“Last night can’t ever happen again.”

My head drops. “No. It really shouldn’t.”

“I went ahead and took the key back.”

My fists tighten around the comforter. “I understand.”

“I don’t see how that’s even possible.” Her tone is sharper than a blade.

I ignore the churning sensation in my abdomen and focus on her. “About the vase…”

“What about it?” The question comes out icy.

“I plan on getting you a new one today.”

“Do you really think buying your way out of this will make up for you shattering my mom’s vase?”

I blink. “Your mom’s?”

Of all the things to break, it had to be something that belonged to her mother…

She releases a shuddery breath. “I knew it was a mistake agreeing to have you live here. I should have just taken my chances with the lawyers and left it up to a judge. I thought maybe you would have some common sense and be on your best behavior, but obviously I was asking for too much. What were you even doing coming inside the house that late?”

I fidget with my hair. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“I should have never given you a key.”

“Lana—”

“No. You don’t get to Lana me and expect all this to go away.”

“I’m not trying to make things go away. I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Well, you can take your sorry and shove it up your ass along with all the other shit you spew.” She slams the door before I have a chance to even apologize.

“I’m back!” Cami barrels inside my bedroom like a torpedo. The door smacks against the wall, and a bit of plaster from the ceiling falls down.

That looks promising.

“Remember your inside voice.” I wince.

“Right. Sorry.” She bounces from one foot to another.

“What’s up?”

“I made you something to feel better.” She presses a folded sheet of paper against her chest.

“What is it?”

She beckons me closer with her finger. I consider leaning forward but think better of it, instead choosing to kneel down.

Cami’s face lights up as she unfolds the piece of paper. “Tada!”

I flinch at the stabbing pain in my skull.

“Do you not like it?” Cami’s smile falters, threatening to drop altogether.

“My head just hurts.”

“Oh, sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles.

A quick scan of the paper makes my heart catapult in my chest. It’s the simplest of drawings, with a big, wonky heart taking up a majority of the page. Within the red shape, she drew two blond stick figures. One has large squiggles on their arms while the shorter one has a triangle-shaped body to represent a dress. Below the heart, Cami wrote me a message.

Feel better, Cow-L.

Laughter explodes out of me at I trace over my name. Can’t say I’ve seen someone spell it like that before. “I love it.”

Cami’s entire face lights up like a firework, bright and impossible to ignore. “Really?”

“Best card ever.” My lips pull into a sincere grin.

Someone sucks in a breath. I look up from Cami’s face to find Lana staring at us with wide eyes.

“Hey.” I offer her a small smile.

“What’s going on?” She takes a step inside the room.

“I made Cow-l a card so he feels better.” Cami turns to show her mother the sheet of paper.

“Did you?” The tightness in Lana’s voice matches her rigid posture. “What’s wrong with him?”

Cami’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s gots a hangover.”

Lana glares at me like I’m the one at fault for teaching her daughter the word.

I raise my hands in submission. “She overheard you talking on the phone first about a hang-ovary, so don’t go pointing fingers at me.”

Lana turns to Cami. “That’s sweet of you.” She pats her daughter’s head, ruffling the tangled strands even more.

“Do you feel better?” Cami’s big blue eyes look up at me.

“Absolutely. I’m starting to feel better already.” Although the headache and nausea might take some time to wear off, the heaviness pressing against my chest since I woke up feels less intense.

Cami squeals as she clutches the card to her chest, crinkling the paper in the process. “I knew it would work!”

My eye twitches from the high-pitched tone. I discreetly rub my temple, trying to make the pressure go away.

“Why don’t we go swimming and leave Cal alone?”