Page 103 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“She’s a miracle,” Cal whispered.

Leilani smiled and nodded, her voice steady. “She needs a name.”

Cal and I exchanged a look.

We’d talked about it.

And now that she was here in the world, we knew.

“Pualani,” I said.

Leilani’s eyes glistened. She smiled, wide and sure. “Heavenly flower. Yes. It’s perfect. Yes!”

I looked down at her again—her lashes, her cheeks, the tiny rise and fall of her chest.

“Pualani,” I whispered. “Hi, baby girl. That’s you.”

Suddenly it seemed like a name she’d been carrying long before she arrived.

“She’s going to bloom,” Leilani said. “I can feel it. She’s going to grow wild and strong and gentle. She’s going to know where she came from. And where she’s going.”

I nodded. “I think she already does.”

Cal leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Welcome to the world, Pualani. We’ve all been waiting for you.”

CHAPTER 34

The house wasa 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 youmake 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.