Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

“I had no idea.” I sigh.

Her brows rise. “He didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope.” I look away, focusing on the crowd of people making their way through the rows of vendors selling strawberry jams, desserts, and deep-fried food.

“Why would he agree to wear that in the first place?” Delilah asks.

“Because he is too buzzed to care otherwise,” I grumble.

“He’s drinking?” Wyatt’s jaw ticks.

“So he says.” I look down at my clasped hands.

“Let me go talk to him.” Violet rises from the bench, only to be dragged down by Delilah.

“Just leave it.”

“Why?” Violet frowns.

I speak up. “Because Dee is right. It’s not like he is bothering anyone, so there is no reason to make a show.”

Violet looks at something over my shoulder. “Really? Then why is he walking over here right now?”

My eyes widen. “He found us?”

“Yup.” Dee slurps on her strawberry smoothie.

My lips purse. “How?”

“Probably because this is always where we hang out every year.” Violet knocks back the rest of her drink.

“Hey.” Cal’s voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Violet and Delilah shoot daggers over my head while I remain frozen with my fists clenched in front of me. Wyatt is the only person to acknowledge his presence with a small tip of his chin.

“Lana, can I talk to you for a second?” Cal’s soft voice makes me frown.

“She’s a bit busy right now.” Violet scowls.

“I think she can talk for herself,” Cal replies with a light tone.

I rise from my seat. “Will you watch Cami for me?”

“Sure. I’ll go let her know now.” Wyatt takes off toward the bounce house.

I turn to find Cal no longer dressed in the strawberry costume. I’m unsure if he burned the monstrosity or returned it to Town Hall.

“Thanks.” He leads us away from the loud music toward the walkway surrounding the park. A few people I know spare us a pinched look, but I wave away their concern with a small smile.

“So…” I kick a rock.

“Mind if we walk and talk?”

“Okay.”

Cal leaves space between us as he walks beside me. “I wanted to talk about what happened earlier and get something off my chest.”

“What for?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Except isn’t it? I’ve seen the bottle of vodka you keep in the freezer, so it’s not like I didn’t know you were drinking.” Day by day, more of the clear liquid disappears, so I’m well aware of his habits.

He tears his eyes away from me. “I’m not proud of it, you know?”

My stomach drops.

“It makes me feel like a weak piece of shit knowing I need to carry a flask on me at all times, just in case I get anxious or wired. Just the thought of going somewhere without it makes me feel all panicky, especially when I might be forced into a situation that makes me uncomfortable.” He tucks his clenched hands behind his back.

My mouth opens, but I struggle to form any words.

“I haven’t gotten drunk since I broke your mom’s vase.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“So? You’re still drinking daily.”

“Taking sips throughout the day to cope isn’t the same as getting shit-faced. Trust me on that one.”

“But they’re both part of the same issue regardless.”

“True. But can’t you see I’m trying to cut back here?” His voice cracks.

My head shakes. “Yes, but who knows what will happen the next time something difficult happens? I’ve already been through this with you before.”

“This isn’t like the last time.”

“Of course, it isn’t.” A bitter laugh crawls up my throat.

He stops walking to look me in the eyes. “For starters, I’m not on Oxy anymore.”

I break eye contact first. “I know.”

“I’m not going to make that mistake again. That much I can promise.” His deep sigh makes me tense. “It took me a long time to let go. Too long. But I swear I will never ever go back to that shit or else I give you permission to shoot me.”

My lips twitch. “Anywhere I want?”

“If you want to aim for the dick, make sure to land a bullet in my skull first.” He smiles.

I begin walking again to escape the tingle in my chest. “Do you ever think about getting sober?”

“Lately, all the damn time.”

I want to believe him. I really do, but something still holds me back.

You don’t trust him.

No, I don’t. And I’m unsure if I ever will after everything we have been through together. I’ve been through enough life lessons to learn that the more someone lets you down, the higher probability there is of it happening again.

I clear my throat. “I’m proud of you for getting off Oxy. I know that must have been hard.”

“Not nearly as hard as coming to grips with how badly I hurt you while on it.” He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

My chest aches when he lets go. Cal continues walking, so I fall in step with him as comfortable silence surrounds us.