Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(120)

That hope was nothing but a lie I told myself to feel good about our situation.

“Mind if I take a seat?” he asks.

I stare out at the lake without replying.

He leaves room between us as he sits down next to me. My pinky finger yearns to interlock with his, but I repress any urge to touch him by holding on to my anger.

“What’s wrong?” He looks over at me.

“A lot of things.” I continue to face forward, although the feel of his gaze tempts me to turn toward him.

“Want to talk about it?”

No, but what choice do I have? It’s not like I can ignore Cal forever, and now that Dreamland is no longer an issue, I’d rather get everything off my chest so he can leave once and for all.

“Why are you selling the house?” I come out and ask the question I already know the answer to. It might be stupid, but I hope he comes clean and admits to his plan, even if it means risking what fragile thing we have built together.

Maybe then I could learn to forgive him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can make out the rare frown line cutting across his forehead.

“We’ve already gone over this.”

My heart pounds in my chest, the pace growing more rapid with each pump. “Then repeat it.”

Tell me the truth. Give me a reason to give you another chance.

He releases a heavy exhale. “I want us to be able to move forward without the house holding us back.”

His roundabout answer does nothing to stop my chest from caving in on itself. Each breath becomes impossible, the tightness in my lungs making them burn with every inhale.

I carry on, my face a mask of cool indifference despite the constant throb of my heart. “What if I want to keep it?”

His fingers tense against his thighs. “Lana…” He whispers my name as if I’m hurting him on some fundamental level, when I know that isn’t the case.

I’m the one who is hurting.

I’m the one who gets to be mad.

And I’m the one who is going to walk away this time. Not because of his addiction, but rather because of who he is regardless of the drinking. Selfish. Self-centered. Self-destructive.

My fingers press into my thighs. “What if it makes me happy to keep the house? After all, I always dreamed of raising a family there. I wanted to enjoy summers by the lake, baking and building ships and swimming with the kids until their limbs cramp up.”

I can see the future so clearly, it takes the pain in my chest and multiplies it by a hundred. Because even after all the lies, I want that future with Cal.

You wanted that future with Cal. There’s a past tense for a reason, so start using it.

God. I’m so stupid.

“Why that house?” His voice cracks.

“Because it’s ours. You might want to forget about all the history there, but I don’t. And in the end, you running from a house won’t solve anything when the real thing you’re running from is yourself.”

“Where is all this coming from?” He looks over at me with wild eyes reflecting exactly how he feels about the inheritance.

Desperate.

For once, we’re on the same page. Because I feel desperate too. Desperate for him to tell the truth. Desperate for me to stay strong despite the urge to crumble beside him. Desperate for us not to lose everything we have built, even if it was built on a lie.

“Did your grandfather leave you an inheritance?” I ask point-blank.

“Yes.” Cal does a good job keeping his expression flat, although the twitch of his fingers gives him away.

“He asked you to sell the house,” I say with certainty.

One single nod makes my heart explode. Like a bomb, it detonates, blowing up any chance of me ever trusting another word that comes out of his mouth.

I already knew the truth, but having it confirmed destroys whatever bit of calm I had left.

“I see.” My tongue scrapes against the roof of my mouth.

“How did you find out?” he rasps.

“I overheard your conversation after dinner. Someone left the window open…” A bitter laugh crawls up my throat, making my ears ache from the shrill sound.

“Whatever you heard, it’s not what you think.” He stumbles over the words.

“Of course it’s not,” I reply sarcastically. “Either way, I contacted the real estate agent and told him to lower the listing price. He said it’s only a matter of time before someone puts an offer in.”

“You did what?” His voice comes out low, his anger dripping from each syllable.

I stand and brush the dirt off my leggings. “Congratulations, Cal. Hope the twenty-five billion keeps you company at night, because I sure as hell won’t.” When I turn to walk away, Cal bolts to his feet and latches on to my hand, preventing me from leaving.

“Let me explain.”

“What for? It’s not like I trust a single thing that comes out of your mouth.” I rip my hand from his grasp, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket in the process.

His fingers curl into a fist. “I couldn’t tell you about the will.”

“Why not?”

His head drops. “Because Grandpa told me not to.”

“Since when do you listen to what people tell you to do? The Cal I knew and fell in love with would have told me about the will. Regardless of who said what, he would have been honest. Forthcoming. Sincere. He would have reasoned with me rather than gone behind my back, using my love for my daughter to work in his favor.”