Delilah’s hold around my shoulders tightens. “It’s okay to be a little selfish and think about yourself every now and then. Cami would want you to be happy.”
“What if I’m not good enough?” I voice my fear aloud. It’s the same one that has kept me up many nights, rooted deep in years of questioning my self-worth. I’ve spent most of my life running from that worry ever since my father packed his bags and said he wasn’t coming back.
“What if you end up spending the rest of your life regretting not taking a chance when you had it?” Violet wraps her arm around me, right above Delilah’s.
“Or what if Missy opens a shop here instead and ends up becoming the town’s favorite baker?” Delilah teases.
I gasp. “Take that back.”
“I don’t know. It could be possible that someone comes for your crown. I heard Missy was trying to master a tres leches recipe before the Fourth of July bake-off.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I should have suspected something when she was following me around the grocery store last month, asking me all kinds of questions about what brand of condensed milk I like most.”
Violet pinches me in the side, making me laugh. “The point is, you’ll miss out on all the things you could have done if you just asked yourself why not instead of what if.”
“Who knew you could be so deep?”
She taps her temple. “Tequila makes me thoughtful.”
“And horny,” Delilah finishes for her, earning a jab to the ribs.
I wrap my arms around both of my friends and pull them in for a big hug. “You’ll be my first two customers?”
Delilah smiles. “Like we ever had a choice.”
15
CAL
Lana plucks a page from the tall stack of papers on the kitchen table and reads to herself while using her red pen to mark the page. Without any alcohol to artificially inflate my self-esteem, I’m left with a racing heart and an urge to escape before Lana notices me.
Not relying on vodka to numb your problems is a positive thing.
Yeah, except reducing my consumption always seems like a good idea until I’m faced with any kind of adversity.
Just go on and get this over with.
I tuck my thumbs into my front pockets. “Do you have a second?”
She looks up at me. “I’m a bit busy here grading papers.”
“On a Friday night? Riveting stuff.”
She shoots me a look. “Unless you’re here to admit defeat about the house, don’t bother.”
“I prefer the term compromise.”
“I’m sure that’s what all the losers say to make themselves feel better.” The shimmer in her eyes fucks with me. Or to be more specific, my dick.
You’re fucked in the head.
Of course I am. At this point in my life, I’ve had more therapists than friends, and neither stick around for long given my issues.
I pull out a chair across from her and take a seat. “I’m going to make you an offer.”
“Oh, this ought to be good.” She places her pen to the side before giving me her full attention.
“I want you to listen to me completely before you say no or threaten me with taking legal action.”
She motions for me to continue.
Time to bring out the big guns. “Let me sell the house for two and a half million dollars and you can keep all the profits.”
Her face pales. “All the profits?”
“Down to the very last penny. I’ll even cover all the remodeling costs myself, which means you will walk away with everything at the end of closing day regardless of how much money we pump into this place.”
She blinks twice. “But why would you do that?”
“Selling the house has never been about making money for me. I want to be done with this place as quickly as possible, so if it means losing a few million along the way, then so be it.”
Her withering glare doesn’t bode well for me. “Oh, yes. I’m sure that’s such a sacrifice for a billionaire like yourself.”
My clenched fists press into my thighs. “I’m trying to help both of us out while giving you a nice deal.”
“I don’t need your help,” she snaps.
“No, but it would be nice to send Cami to that fancy school she got into with the funds.”
Her eyes narrow. “Now you’re just playing dirty.”
I wink. “My favorite kind of strategy. Is it working?”
“Marginally, although your cocky grin isn’t doing it for me at the moment.”
I wipe the smile off my face. “Work with me.” I’m not above begging on my knees to get her to see reason. “This kind of money can change anyone’s life.”
“How would you know? You made your first billion the moment you took your first breath.”
“I’m not completely detached from reality. I understand the value of money.”
“Knowing how to spend it isn’t the same thing as valuing it.”
My teeth grind together. “Valuing your money means knowing where to spend it, not how.”
“Look at you being all wise.”
“I’m more than just a pretty face, Lana. I have a brain too.”
“Who lied to you and called you pretty?” She bats her lashes.
“You did…while I was between your legs with my tongue deep inside your needy cunt.”
Take that, you little witch.
She chokes on her breath. “God.”
“Please, no need to call me God outside of the bedroom. It gives me a complex.”
She swipes the swear jar off the top of the fridge and slams it on the table in front of me. “Pay up.”
I grab a hundred dollars and drop it in the jar. “Worth every penny.”
“Cami’s college fund appreciates the donation.”
I clasp onto her wrist, and the warmth of her skin bleeds into mine. “You wouldn’t need a swear jar anymore if you agree to sell the house.”
She stares off into the distance.
I can practically taste victory, so I pull out my wild card. “You could open that bakery you’ve always dreamed about.”
She releases a shuddery breath as she looks away, and I think for the first time since I came to Lake Wisteria, I’m finally winning.
Only because you’re using her dreams against her.
Is that what I’m doing? Or am I simply reminding her what she must have forgotten over the years?
She shakes her head, her vision turning clearer as she comes back to reality. “No. I’d rather play it safe and save the money for a house and whatever Cami might need over the years.”
“Play it safe? What happened to the girl who would act first and think later?”
“I grew up, Cal.” She grabs the swear jar and places it back on top of the fridge.
“So what? Growing up doesn’t mean giving up on all your dreams.”
“I didn’t give up. I just realized I’d rather make someone else’s dreams come true a lot more than my own.”
“What does that even mean?”
She pulls her stack of papers into her arms and retrieves her red pen. “I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”
My heart threatens to shrivel up. “Someone like me?”
“Someone who always chooses himself.”
As if her words didn’t do enough damage, the look on her face lands a killer blow.
She takes a deep breath. “I accept your offer on one condition.”
“Name it.”