Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, 3)

Living with Lana and Cami is a completely different experience than seeing them every now and then back at the main house while I was cleaning out the attic. For starters, the entire house is filled with toys. Boxes upon boxes of toys. The whole living room is a minefield of Legos, princess dolls, and enough stuffed animals for Cami to play pretend school.

The kid is cute as fuck as she acts out her mother’s Spanish class, switching from English to Spanish, with Lana correcting her every now and then while she prepares dinner in the kitchen.

Cami points a paper towel roll at the mini whiteboard she wrote on. “Vamos a apprendo español.”

“Vamos a aprender español.”

Cami repeats the phrase before earning a flour-covered thumbs-up from her mother.

I chuckle underneath my breath, giving away the fact that I was pretending to read.

“Cal, do you want to play with me?” Cami runs over to me and tugs on my hand.

Lana looks up from her cutting board. “I think Cal is busy.”

She’s been rather icy the last couple of days, ever since the day after she moved in. I’ve tried to break through with a few jokes, but nothing seems to get past her. Even my attempts to not drink do nothing to lighten the mood.

She has been careful to not leave me alone with Cami for longer than a minute, which wasn’t the case before.

What changed?

Honestly, not knowing is driving me a little crazy. I’m not sure what happened between her offering to be my friend and now. Whatever is going on in her head can’t be good, and I’m tempted to corner her and get some answers.

Maybe once Cami falls asleep I can.

“Please?” Cami blinks up at me with her long lashes.

“Sure. I’d love to play with you, kiddo.” I stand and follow a beaming Cami, all while Lana glares at me.

I spend the next twenty minutes impersonating a student while Cami attempts to read me a book in Spanish. She trips over the words, and I do my best to help her out, with Lana interjecting every now and then on words I mispronounce.

My neck and spine prickle every now and then. When I look around, I find Lana quickly busying herself with something in the kitchen.

What’s going on?

“All right, Camila. Time for dinner.” Lana tugs her apron over her head.

The smells coming from the oven make me wish she extended me the same invitation, although I know that won’t happen.

Cami latches on to my hand and tugs. “Vamos a comer.”

Lana doesn’t say anything, but the silence between us doesn’t bode well. As good as a home-cooked Colombian meal sounds right now, I’m not about to give Lana another reason to be annoyed with me.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I have plans.”

“Like what?” The kid lacks any personal boundaries or social skills.

She is five. Give her a break.

“I’m going to eat at the diner.”

Her face scrunches in the same way Lana’s does. “Booooo.”

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any lower, I get heckled by a five-year-old.

Great.

Lana walks up to Cami and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “Maybe next time.”

“Right.”

“But my mommy’s the bestest cook in the whole wide world.” Her beaming smile is a force to be reckoned with. I doubt I would stand much of a chance at telling her no if it weren’t for Lana glaring a hole into the side of my face as I address her child.

“I know. She learned from the second bestest cook in the whole wide world—her mom.”

Cami gasps, and I instantly know I said the wrong thing.

“You had Abuela’s food? When?” Cami looks up at me with wide eyes.

I glance toward Lana for approval before I say something I shouldn’t. She gives me a small nod, and I let out a breath of relief.

“She worked here while I visited in the summers growing up and cooked the best food I’ve ever had. After your mom, that is”

Cami’s eyes look about ready to pop out of her head from how hard she is straining them. “Really?”

Lana looks away, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Yup.”

Cami’s grin widens even more. “Did you like her?”

“It was impossible not to. Every person who met her loved her.” I mean every word. Señora Castillo had this energy about her that made everyone want to stick around. She loved to cook, clean, and tell stories while doing both, which was a welcomed change compared to the nannies I spent time around growing up.

It’s one of the reasons I loved visiting for the summers, although my brothers didn’t share the same feelings.

“Do you miss her?”

Cami’s question makes my chest pinch with uncomfortable tightness.

“Yes, I do. I wish I could have said goodbye.”

Lana’s hands grasping on to Cami’s shoulders tighten.

“Where were you?” Cami’s brows pull together.

Lana shakes her head. “Por favor, no más preguntas. Me has hecho suficiente por hoy.”

“But—”

“Why don’t you go set the table while I talk to Cal?”

“Okay!” Cami barrels toward the small kitchen table we pushed into a corner to allow for more space for all the toys.

“If you want to have dinner with us, you can.” She brushes some flour off her apron.

“I don’t want to impose.” You’re such a rotten liar.

My stomach betrays me as it growls loud enough for Lana to hear it. She cracks a small smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen directed toward me in days, and I soak it up like a plant deprived of sunshine.

“Just go take a seat at the table while I get the arepas.”

“Arepas?”

“Y chorizo.”

My mouth waters. “Chorizo? Do you need any help?”

“I’ve been cooking food for years without any help, so I think I can manage just fine on my own, but thanks.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to make a man feel useful every now and then.”

She bats her lashes. “Would you like me to find a lightbulb that needs changing?”

I give her a little shove on the shoulder, and she curls over laughing. The sound feels as if I just injected pure serotonin into my veins.

The timer on the oven beeps, stealing Lana and that rush of happiness with her.

I take a seat next to Cami and give her my attention while ignoring the pull I have toward the woman working around the kitchen.

Lana places my plate in front of me. Before she has a chance to move back, I clasp on to her hand and give it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’m so happy you invited me.”

Lana’s cheeks, already pink from exertion, turn red. “You’re welcome.”

I brush my thumb over her skin. “I missed your food.” I missed a hell of a lot more than her food, but it feels like a safe way to express myself. She squeezes my hand back in silent acknowledgment before I release her.

While Lana grabs a juice box from the fridge, Cami leans over the table to whisper in my ear.

“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—”

“It sounded even more pathetic when I said it aloud. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.” She tugs her hand free and slips inside her room before I can ask her anything else.

I go to my room and climb into bed. Merlin jumps up on to the mattress and cuddles at the foot of the bed, filling the silence with his steady purr.

I consider what Lana said about her not knowing what she wanted. Of how she didn’t like being reminded that everything has an expiration date.

If she hadn’t rushed off to her room, I would have told her I feel the same. That I also struggle with crippling loneliness and a desire to fill the chronic void in my chest.

I swore to myself that I would only be here until I sold the house. That there was no point to sticking around longer than that, especially when I wasn’t wanted here.

But what if…

No. There is no possible way she would give me a chance.

Right?

During all my hypothetical situations about returning back to Lake Wisteria, I didn’t even consider the possibility of Lana being interested in me. Wouldn’t even entertain it because I couldn’t get my hopes up.

But what if she is open to us trying something new together? Something that isn’t weighed down by drugs or depression or bad decisions made out of desperation to feel something other than pain?

I could help lessen the loneliness both of us suffer from. It would be easy to become her companion. Friend. Lover.

My mind takes off, a plan forming as I mull through all our interactions up until this point. If Lana is confused, it’s time I clarified a few things—starting with my feelings toward her. I might not have an answer for everything, but I do know one thing.

Lana is the only woman I ever loved, and it’s time I started acting like it.