Page 41 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

The house was a riot of joy.

And noise.

And bouncing.

And cooing.

And an impromptu harmonica solo from Mr. Banks because he sensed that a future career on Broadway was in the cards.

Pualani, for her part, was wrapped like a sleepy burrito and handling it all in her stride as she was passed from one set of adoring arms to the next. Cal and I had barely held her since bringing her home from the hospital the day before.

“I think we’ve been demoted,” I whispered, watching from the kitchen as Tutu gently bounced the baby while singing a lullaby in soft Hawaiian.

“We’ll get visiting privileges again once we prove we’re trustworthy,” Cal joked. “Or bribe someone with pineapple cake.”

In the living room, Rashida stood with a timer and a clipboard.

“Okay, people,” she called over the din. “New baby rules are now in effect. Twenty minutes per person. No exceptions. If you make the baby cry, your slot is cut short. If you make the baby caca, that’s on you.”

“Can I dress as a clown and make funny faces?” Angus asked, already pulling out a bright green wig.

“No!” the entire room answered.

“Angus, she’s been here one day,” Rashida said flatly. “Let’s not traumatize her just yet.”

She pulled a laminated chart from the clipboard and stuck it on the fridge. It was titled: Pualani Time Blocks: Version 3.1 . There were colored columns, nap buffers, feed buffers, and a diaper roster. I didn’t know whether to salute her or hide the baby.

Behind us, Mrs. Mulroney was pouring whiskey into a baby bottle. “It’ll help strengthen her immune system. It may also put hair on her chest, but hey, I’ve never had any complaints.”

Kimo was showing the baby surfing poses, while Angus gazed adoringly at his shiny shirtless torso.

Meanwhile, Tilly was reading Pualani a chapter from Moby Dick —“So she gets used to the sea and excessive metaphors.”

All Leilani could do was giggle… and tip out the bottle that Mrs. Mulroney just poured.

“Our baby’s going to be so weird,” I said, misty-eyed.

“Yeah,” Cal smiled. “In the best possible way.”

Then Rashida appeared beside us, sliding a folder discreetly across the countertop toward Cal.

“Here’s that list you wanted,” she said.

Cal nodded, slipping it quickly under his arm.

I blinked. “What list?”

He looked at me. Then down. Then back up again. “Can we talk?” he asked quietly. “I think we need to talk. Somewhere private.”

I froze for half a second. That sentence— we need to talk— those were the four scariest words in the English language.

“Babe? Is everything okay?”

Cal offered his hand. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the water. ”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just took the folder, walked to the back door, and stepped out into the early evening light.

I followed, my feet bare and my breath shallow.

The sun was starting to dip behind the palms, turning the ocean silver-gold. Cal led me down the short path, past the swaying hammocks to the lava-rock wall that overlooked the beach.

We climbed up and sat there, side by side. Quiet for a moment.

The tide whispered before us.

The horizon shimmered.

Cal still hadn’t said a word and I didn’t dare speak before I knew what was going on.

Eventually he said, “I’ve been thinking. About a lot of things. About you. Me. The baby.” He took my hand and looked at me. “I want to give it all away.”

I gasped, my heart shattering, my voice panicked. “You what? You’re breaking up with me?”

Suddenly his voice turned to panic. “What? No! No, of course not!”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“My career. My job. My fortune. I’m ready to give it all up. For you. For Pualani. For us!”

My heart stopped twisting in my chest, and I let out a long sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. For a minute there—”

He leaned in and kissed me, stopping my paranoid trail of thought before pulling back and saying, “Matt, I could never leave you. You’re my life.

And now so is Pualani. After everything that’s happened—after Hal and all the stupid decisions I made—I know now where I need to be and who I need to be with, every day, every night, every minute of my life. I love you. So much.”

I laughed and forced back tears. “I love you too.”

He held the folder in his lap for a moment, running a thumb along the edge like it was something precious. Then he opened it, gently, and passed it to me.

Inside were pages—neatly printed, tabbed, color-coded. Rashida’s work, no doubt.

“This list. I asked Rashida to put together a document outlining a number of charities. Foundations. Programs where my money will actually do some good.”

I flipped through the pages slowly.

Literacy programs.

LGBTQ equality groups.

Indigenous land protections.

Cancer research.

Maternal health networks.

Climate action groups.

Housing plans for the homeless.

Pages and pages of goodness.

He took another breath. “What happened with Hal, it made me realize I’m doing things all wrong. I’ve got so much money. I want it to start changing lives for the better.”

I didn’t say anything at first. Then I kissed him again and said, “That’s… incredible. You’re incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

“Of course, I’ll keep enough for Pualani’s education. And so that we don’t have to worry about anything. But the rest? It doesn’t belong to me anymore. It never really did.”

He let the silence settle between us. And then—gently—“There’s more.”

I laughed, half -choked. “Of course there is.”

“I want to sell the penthouse.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

He nodded. “I don’t need to be in New York anymore. What would you say if I told you I think we should stay? Here.”

I stared at him.

“ Here ?”

He smiled. “Rashida talked to the owners. Quietly. They’re open to selling. No listing. No press. Just a quiet transfer. If we want it.”

My heart swelled so fast I thought it might lift me off the ground.

“I want this to be our home,” he said. “Not just a house. Not a rental. Home. I want Pualani to grow up with salt in her hair and mango on her chin and sand in her socks. I want her to have Tutu stories at bedtime and Leilani five minutes away. I want to stay near the people who made all of this possible. I want us to raise her here. As one big, beautiful, slightly insane, chosen family.”

I didn’t answer.

I just wrapped my arms around him and kissed him so hard we almost fell off the rock wall.

We both laughed, then held on to each other so tight it was as though we were trying to stop the wind from carrying us away.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“You sure?” he said.

I pulled back to look at him. “Cal, this isn’t just a house. It’s paradise . And I want to spend the rest of my life making it ours.”

He exhaled, smiling, his eyes shining. “Then we’re home.”