Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(56)

She takes a deep breath. “Don’t move. Let me go put some shoes on before coming down there.”

“You got it, babe.” I salute her, which only earns me a death glare.

I’m not sure how long it takes her to get her sneakers on, but I stare at the wall, questioning how I ended up in this mess.

Lana. Cami. Graduation.

I smack my forehead. “Right. That’s how.”

“I can’t believe this right now.” Lana scowls as she walks down the stairs. It only deepens as she assesses the mess surrounding me.

I flinch. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

Her eyes glaze over, looking shiny underneath the chandelier. I hate the look on her face almost as much as the silence building between us as she analyzes the broken shards of glass.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I promise.”

“I don’t want a new one. I want this one,” she snaps.

“I’m sorry.” My bottom lip juts out. I saw Cami do it once and it automatically worked on Lana, so maybe I will get lucky too. “It was an accident.”

“Accidents happen, but getting drunk is a choice.”

“You’re right. A bad choice.”

“Yet you keep making it anyway. God, Cal. You’re thirty-three years old. Act like it.” She points at the spot I’m standing in. “Stay right there.”

She disappears around the corner before returning a minute later with a broom, a dustpan, and a trash bin. Her anger is like a fire, sucking all the oxygen out of the room as I stand there, useless and silent, while she begins sweeping the mess into a corner opposite of me.

“Who got you flowers?” I point at the mix of wildflowers strewn across the floor. “Was it a guy?”

Smooth, Cal. She will never suspect a single thing.

She shakes her head and keeps sweeping. “I’m not getting into this with you right now.”

“Why? Because it’s true?”

“Because you’re drunk and acting like a jealous idiot over someone who doesn’t even matter.”

“So what if I am jealous?”

“Why would you be?”

“Because…”

“Because what?” She shoots me a pointed look.

I bite down on my cheek to keep my last shred of dignity after throwing away most of it tonight. She gives up waiting and begins sweeping harder this time, making a few pieces of glass fly across the hardwood floor.

“Did you even bother going to rehab again?” she asks after the longest minute of silence. Her question comes off nonchalant, but there is a tightness in her shoulders as she sweeps.

I laugh. “Of course. Want to take a guess on how that turned out?” I try to bow but my coordination is severely lacking, so I nearly topple over. This time I don’t have a table to save me, so I flap my arms until I regain my balance.

Pathetic, Cal. Absolutely pathetic.

She stares at me with an expression I can’t make sense of given how much alcohol is pumping through my veins.

“I don’t want to pity you, but I do.”

“Exactly what every man wants to hear from the woman he loves.”

She blinks once. Twice. Three times before she strings a sentence together. “And that’s our cue to get you to bed.”

“Are you joining me?”

She grabs my arm and leads me up the stairs and toward my old room while grumbling to herself in Spanish. We walk in tandem to my bed. My center of gravity is thrown off when the tip of my sneaker catches on the floor, throwing Lana off-balance too.

“Whoops. My bad.” I laugh it off.

Her heavy sigh makes my chest hurt. She guides me toward the bed without any other incident. Once my ass safely lands on the foam mattress, she steps away, but not before I latch on to her wrist.

I tease the inside of it, earning the softest gasp. “I’m sorry.”

She tries to tug her hand free, but my grip holds. “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

“Because words have meaning, and your actions cheapen them.”

My grip on her hand loosens, so she takes advantage and detaches herself from me. The crack in my chest expands, revealing the emptiness within.

“Sleep it off” is the last thing she says before my bedroom door clicks shut, leaving me alone with my demons to keep me company.





23





CAL





I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and the urge to hide from Lana after last night. Unlike my father, I’m not a mean drunk, but I am a stupid one who can’t keep his mouth shut.

To make matters worse, I broke Lana’s vase and then made her clean it up afterward.

I throw a pillow over my head to muffle my frustrated groan.

You have no one to blame for your behavior but yourself.

The door to my room creaks open. I pop my head out from underneath the pillow, expecting to find Lana in the doorway.

“Hi!” Cami shouts.

My head throbs in a silent reply. “Let’s use our inside voices.”

“Sorry,” she whisper-shouts.

Close enough. “Where’s your mom?” And how do I avoid her for the rest of the day?

“Making lunch.”