Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

She opens the pantry door and frowns. “Hmm.”

“What?” I peer over her shoulder.

“Just was wondering if they’re going to paint over this or replace the door and the frame altogether.”

“Probably replace it.”

She makes an indiscernible noise.

“What?” I ask at the sight of her frown.

“It’s a shame.” She traces the different marks etched into the wooden frame—all written in her mother’s handwriting. Five different initials in varying colors mark the entire side: RGK, DLK, CPK, AVC, and CTC. Rowan and Declan’s heights were no longer recorded once they stopped visiting the lake house, while mine continues until my final six-four marking.

“You added Cami’s height?” I squat down and trace over the first small pink mark at the bottom, which is barely two feet tall.

“Yeah. My mom thought it would be a fun idea.” Lana looks at it with a watery smile. “Cami couldn’t even stand yet, but I held her up while my mom used the ruler to mark her spot.”

“You miss her,” I state.

“All the time.” She looks around the kitchen. “Being here… it feels like I’m still connected to her. She spent a majority of her time in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, eating. It was her favorite place in the whole house.”

“And yours.”

“Most definitely.” Lana gives the kitchen counter a loving pat. “It’s hard to believe that by tomorrow, all of this will be gone.”

“Crazy, huh?” I lean against the counter beside her.

“If my mom were here, she would have been excited to say goodbye to the counters. She probably would have begged Ryder to let her take a sledgehammer to them herself.”

I grin. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. She warned your grandpa against picking blue tile as a countertop, but he was very insistent. Mom said it wouldn’t age well and she was right. Plus, she hated cleaning the grout all the time, and after being stuck doing the same, I completely agree.” Lana’s nose twitches with distaste.

“That was Brady for you. Stubborn as a mule and always thinking he knew best, even when he didn’t.”

She walks toward the window above the sink and looks out at the lake. “I still haven’t wrapped my head around the fact that we’re selling the house.”

Neither have I. “Are you going to talk to Cami?”

Her fingers clutching on to the counter twitch. “After we come back from Dreamland.”

“She will understand.” I walk up behind her and place my hands on top of hers.

“I hope so. I just…”

“What?”

“I’m scared to let go.” Her voice cracks.

“Lana.” I turn her face toward mine. Her gaze remains glued to the lake outside. “Look at me.” The glassiness in her eyes guts me, and I’m questioning giving up on my grandfather’s task altogether.

“We can call this off,” I blurt out.

Are you…

A lovesick idiot? Absolutely. Sue me.

If you don’t, your brothers will.

I shove the thoughts of Rowan and Declan out of my head.

Her eyes shut. When they open again, the watery sheen is gone. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

Her fingers interlace with mine, banishing the cold dread spreading through my veins. “I want you to be happy.”

My lips press together. I feel like the biggest dick on the planet for keeping the truth from her.

You don’t have a choice.

Well, I wish I did. My grandpa’s will makes me feel helpless. Dirty. Dishonest.

“We can start somewhere new.” She sighs. Her use of the word we draws a sharp breath from me and latches on to my heart, breaking through the scar tissue.

I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’d like that.”

While Lana and Cami pack for the trip, I sit inside my car with my phone pressed to my ear.

“Callahan Kane. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” The easygoing tone of my grandfather’s lawyer’s voice draws a small smile from me.

“I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“When my grandfather asked me to stay the whole summer at Lake Wisteria, was he specific about how long?”

“I don’t recall off the top of my head. Would you like me to check the will?”

“Yes, please.”

“Give me a moment.” Papers rustle and Leo breathes heavily into the microphone, his confirmatory noise only adding to the growing tension in my shoulders.

“One hundred and twenty days.”

Shit.

“Is there any way of getting around that?” My molars smash together.

He only grumbles to himself.

That can’t be good.

“What’s the rush?” he asks. “You only have a month left.”

“I need to check myself into rehab next week.”

“Rehab?” His voice perks up. It’s a strange way to react to someone who clearly has an issue with alcohol, but Leo was always a weird guy. That’s why he and my grandfather got along so damn well.

“Yes. I have a place lined up in Arizona, but the will is holding me back from going.”

More papers shift in the background. “I see.”