Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

That night I don’t go to bed drunk and numb. Instead, I go to bed alive and angry at my grandfather for putting me in the exact situation I knew would happen if I stuck around the last time.

I can’t replace the vase I broke. It’s a useless effort to even try, but I head out Sunday morning to the local mall an hour away from the lake with the hope of finding something to make up for my drunken accident.

Finding a vase is easy. The selection is endless, and I choose the nicest, most expensive one. Lana won’t care about the price tag, but maybe my effort won’t go unnoticed.

While the cashier is carefully wrapping my purchase so it won’t break, I walk around the rest of the store. A bright cherry-red standing mixer on a high shelf catches my eye. I think of Lana and her rickety old hand mixer that is on its ninth life before calling over the associate and asking her to charge the item to my card.

I’m not looking to buy Lana’s forgiveness.

I’m looking to buy into her dream, even if she doesn’t anymore.

Since Lana took my key away when I was drunk, I have to ring the bell and wait for her. At some point, I place the heavy standing mixer on the porch and bounce on the tips of my toes while she takes her sweet time answering the door.

It creaks open, and she blinks up at me. “What do you want?”

“I came to make amends.” I hold out the bag with the vase.

“With gifts?” She frowns at the bag.

Safe to say gifts aren’t a part of her love language.

My hope dies along with any excitement about the mixer. I step in front of the bag before she can see it while still holding out the other that contains the vase. “I know I can’t replace what I broke, but I wanted to get you a new vase anyway.”

She doesn’t reach for it. “What’s the point?”

“I’m trying to fix a problem I caused, not start more of them.”

“Then fix what actually matters here, and spoiler warning, it’s not the vase.”

“I…” I lose the rest of my sentence.

“What was the point of going back to rehab if you were only going to start drinking again?”

My heart feels like someone split it apart with the jaws of life. “I had lost my reason for getting sober in the first place.”

Her brows furrow. “What? Money? Hockey? The will to live a normal life?”

“You, Lana. I lost you.”





I shake my head hard enough to make my vision blurry. “You don’t get to stand here and blame me for your addiction.”

He clasps on to my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just being honest about what happened the last time.”

“What last time?”

His fingers clutching my chin tighten. “I came back. Even though I swore to you I wouldn’t, I did it anyway because I was a stupid, hopeful fool.”

I suck in a breath. “When?”

“Right before my grandpa was taken off the ventilators.”

“But that was—” Over two years ago.

Oh, no.

The look on his face drives an invisible dagger through my heart.

“I didn’t believe it at first.” His gaze drops. Tension bleeds from his shoulders, each of his muscles rigid underneath the fabric of his shirt. “But then I saw you with my own two eyes, kissing that guy, Victor, right by Last Call.”

My eyes narrow. “Who told you about him?”

His upper lip curls from disgust. “Does it matter?”

I look away.

His chest rises and falls from his deep exhale. “You know what? It shouldn’t because that’s not my point.”

My eyes shut. “Then what is?”

“I failed you for the final time that night.”

My head shakes hard enough to rattle my brain. “How? I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“Because instead of fighting for you—for us—I chose the easy way out that night. The familiar one. The wrong one. Instead of dealing with my problems, I wanted to drown them in alcohol until I couldn’t feel any more pain. Until I numbed the part of my brain that saw you in the arms of another man. It was so fucked up after all that effort to get sober, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I didn’t want to. My main reason for getting better was stolen away from me, which was exactly what my grandpa said would happen.”

He bares his soul to me, and I find it impossible to tear him down at the moment.

“I know I ruined our chance at something more. It was selfish of me to even try the last time, knowing the kind of mental state I was in and that us getting together could very well ruin our friendship.”

“Why take the risk then?” The question I obsessed over flies out of my mouth, along with any sense of self-preservation.

He takes a deep breath. My stomach twists into a knot, the muscles stretching tight enough to hurt.

His gaze locks on to mine. “I always thought we were meant to be. I might have screwed up the timing a bit, but that doesn’t change the fact that there is no one I want more in this world than you.”

Breathing becomes exponentially more difficult.

“I was biding my time before because it was never the right moment for us. Three years doesn’t sound like a big difference anymore, but back then it felt like a whole other lifetime. By the time you turned eighteen, I was already a twenty-one-year-old loser with one stint in rehab under my belt. I was a fuckup and you were…” He stalls.