Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

I’m barely buzzed, yet he speaks to me like I’m a sloppy mess.

“I’m fine.” I shove the plate away.

He grabs my cup and sniffs. “Still masking your issues with vodka?”

I steal it back and drain the rest of the drink in spite. “What are you doing here with me?”

“I want to talk.”

“What about?”

“You can’t keep doing this to Alana. It’s not fair.”

My nails bite into my skin. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re leading her on and making her believe you two have a chance.”

“Because we do,” I seethe.

He gives me a bored once-over, being sure to drive home how utterly unimpressed he is of me. “Not if you keep this up, you won’t. This is why I knew it was a bad idea for you to come back. You aren’t ready.”

I’m not ready? Ready for what exactly?

I keep my face calm and collected despite the rage building within. “What do you want?”

“To help you for some goddamn reason.”

I laugh. “What do you know about helping someone like me? You’ve got the perfect life. Happy wife, good job, bright future.”

His grip on the picnic table tightens. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because you got lucky?”

“No. Because I put in the work.”

My lips press together.

He continues. “If you want to ever get Alana back, then you need to pull yourself together. For real this time. Starting with this.” He grabs my cup and tosses it in the trash bin nearby.

My eyes narrow. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I want what’s best for Alana and Cami, even if it’s you.” He scowls.

“So you think she could do better.”

“In the end, it doesn’t matter what I think because she loves you, so maybe it’s you who should do better by her.”

My heart stalls in my chest. “She loves me?”

His eyes swing over to the dock, where Lana helps a child with their floatie. “I’m not sure she ever stopped.”

I shake my head. “She dated someone else.”

“And? I’m sure you did too.”

“Dated? Hell no.”

“So, you fucked around then.”

My teeth grind together. The period of my life when I was still getting high on Oxy was possibly the lowest I’ve ever stooped. Just thinking about the risks I took and the people I used to get high with makes me sick to my stomach.

On cue like always, the acid in my belly churns.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t been with anyone in over two years.”

“Two years? That’s…” His voice drops off.

The same time I saw Lana with Victor.

If Lana felt even a fraction of what I experienced when I found her kissing someone else, I can’t imagine the kind of pain she went through reading some of the headlines posted about me.

The person I was when high isn’t the man I am now. Yet no matter how many times I repeat the same words, I can’t erase the disgust I feel toward myself when I think back on my past.

Shame makes my throat close up.

His low whistle grates against my nerves. “Damn.” He actually laughs. “That’s rough.”

His comment drags me away from the dark thoughts. “Shut up, Eugene.”

He flashes me a blinding smile. “Delilah is never going to let that one go.”

“Glad my sex life is an amusing topic for all of you.” I take a bite out of my burger to stop myself from saying anything else.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Delilah warned me against doing this but…” His voice drifts off.

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. “If you need a sponsor, I’m willing to be yours.”

My mouth drops open. “You?”

He nods. “We have an AA group that meets at the chapel every night.”

“Since when?” Wyatt was always squeaky clean and willing to do everything to remain in the town’s good graces. Violet used to call it the quarterback complex. The biggest scandal of Wyatt’s life was his parents getting an amicable divorce where they both stayed friends.

“A little less than a year after you left, I transferred to a Detroit precinct to be closer to my dad after his heart attack, but the things I saw while working there… God. They would haunt me even in my dreams.” He looks over at Delilah, who waves at him with her cane. She shoots me a glare while slicing a line across her throat with the handle of the cane.

Glad to know my presence draws such a passion from her.

Wyatt steals my attention back. “The transition from small-town life to the big city was hard. I struggled for a long time with PTSD and alcoholism before I finally got help.”

“Shit. I had no idea, man. I’m sorry.” I reach over and clap him on the shoulder.

He offers me a weak smile. “You’re not the only one who struggled, you know?”

My head hangs. “I see.”

Lana. Wyatt. Señora Castillo. The list goes on and on, making my chest ache.

He rises from the picnic table. “Just think about it. My offer will always stand, even if you decide to move back to Chicago once the house is sold.”