Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(99)

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.”

“Well, I can’t, so do you mind sharing?” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my fraying nerves. Without any alcohol to take the edge off this conversation, I’m stuck facing my anxiety head-on.

Lovely.

“Your grandfather was willing to adjust the time period on one condition.”

“Let me guess: If I go to rehab.”

He laughs. “No.”

My shoulders slump. “Then what? Does he want me to take a breathalyzer test every day for the next however many days? Or maybe he wants me to be homebound with a babysitter?”

“Nothing quite that severe. All he said was the required four months at Lake Wisteria could be null and void if you earn a green chip.”

“A green chip?”

“From AA.”

My lips press together as I consider my two other times attending Alcoholics Anonymous. Green was a color I achieved yet lost not long after.

My grip around the phone tightens. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before I moved in?”

“I wasn’t at liberty to say unless you came to me first regarding sobriety. Your grandfather emphasized the importance of you making this choice on your own, so he didn’t want you to feel enticed to get sober for an inheritance.”

I close my eyes to stop the world from spinning around me.

Leo clears his throat. “Your grandfather already chose an AA program for you as well.”

My laugh comes out forced. “Of course he did.”

The motherfucker set me up.

My grandfather had to have known that if I came back here, it would only be a matter of time before I would want to get sober again.

“Will you please send me the information so I can take a look?” I ask.

“Of course. I’ll have my assistant send you that and the phone number for the person to contact. From what I’ve heard, it’s a small group for those who require discretion.”

Fantastic. Can’t wait to spend my AA meetings with a bunch of rich snobs who can’t get their shit together despite having access to everything.

“Sell the house and get me that green chip so we can get the rest of the inheritance squared away.” He speaks with a light and airy tone, as if getting sober is a simple task.