Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

“You like my mommy.”

My eyes stretch to their limits.

“I can keep a secret.” Cami zips her lips and throws an invisible key over her shoulder.

Damn, the kid is smart. Either that or my interest in Lana is so pathetically obvious that even a five-year-old child notices.

Probably a combination of both.

The aroma of arepas tickles my nose and makes my mouth water. Cami digs in, taking bites in between telling us about how she went swimming at the community pool today with her summer camp. Between her storytelling and Lana’s questions, the entire meal is filled with laughter, fake gasps, and Lana goading Cami with silly questions meant to stir up controversy.

I love how there isn’t a single moment of silence.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this content while doing something so simple. Sure, I’ve had dinner with my family, but something about being surrounded by two couples only amplified the empty feeling in my chest. Tonight, though, that sensation is long gone.

There was a point in my life that I thought it wouldn’t be possible to feel this complete. But tonight, I can sense it.

For the first time in a long time, I begin to hope. To believe that there is more for me in this life than chronic loneliness and a desperation to fit in somewhere. That I can be sober and happy, so long as I put in the effort.

Or so I wish.

The hum of the dishwashing machine fills the silence as I scrub the counter with a disinfectant wipe.

Lana comes out of Cami’s bedroom and shuts the door softly behind her. She has been at the bedtime routine for an hour already, with Cami asking for ten more minutes of her bath, one extra bedtime story, and a special request for Lana to sing her a lullaby before bed. I tried not to eavesdrop much, but it was hard given how small the house is.

She looks over at me with a strange expression. “You did the dishes.”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner.”

Her head tilts. “I might have to invite you to eat with us every single night if it means you doing the dishes.”

“Deal,” I say too fast, my voice reeking of desperation.

She bites down on her bottom lip, rolling it between her front teeth before speaking up. “It was nice.”

My heart thuds harder against my chest. “What was?”

“Having you eat with us. It felt like…” Her voice drifts off.

I refuse to let her get away with not explaining. “What?” I press.

“It felt like you fit in with us.” She looks down at her bare feet as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. As much as I want to vocalize my agreement, I’m afraid what might happen if I do.

She wouldn’t have brought it up if she was worried about what you might say.

“For a moment during dinner, I wished I did.”

Her brows pull together. “What?”

I shrug, attempting to look like I don’t care but probably failing miserably based on how tense my shoulders are. “I like spending time with you and Cami. She reminds me a lot of myself when I was her age.”

A ghost of a smile crosses her lips. “For my own mental health and sanity, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“By ten years old, you already had three broken bones, one concussion, and an inability to sit still for longer than ten minutes.”

“That doesn’t mean she will.”

“I sure hope not. My insurance co-pay is already through the roof.” She throws her hands in the air.

I end up laughing, which only makes her lips purse.

“I’m serious!”

“You’re about to be a millionaire once we sell the house. I’m sure you can cover a couple of broken bones after that.”

“Right.” Her elation dies, killed along with the small smile taking form on her face.

“Don’t tell me you’re second-guessing everything. I thought we had an agreement with one another.”

Her frown deepens. “No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m going to bed.” She turns toward the hall.

“Why are you leaving?” I follow after her.

“I’m tired.” She walks to her bedroom, which is right across from mine.

When Lana goes to reach for the knob, I stop her by grabbing her hand and turning her toward me.

“What did I say?”

She takes a deep breath, making her shoulders rise and fall. “It’s not what you said exactly, but what it reminded me of that bothered me.”

My hand holding on to hers tightens. “What?”

She lifts her other hand in the air and rotates her finger. “That all this has an expiration date.”

My brows scrunch together. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Her face contorts, confusion etching itself into every wrinkle of her forehead. “I don’t know what I want and maybe that’s my problem.” She releases a heavy breath. “I just forgot what it felt like to—” Her sentence dies as she presses her lips together.

“Forgot what it felt like to what?”

She drops her gaze. “Not feel so damn lonely for once.”

The pressure in my chest builds. “Lana—”