Page 29 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“That sounds… incredible,” he said.

I nodded, too overcome to speak.

There was a pause. Then Doug the rooster strutted into frame, flapped dramatically, and knocked over a plastic cup.

“Doug!” Leilani barked, snatching the cup. “We’re having amoment!”

I cracked up, full-body laughter this time, and even Cal lost it beside me.

“Well,” Leilani said, turning back to us with a shrug and a smile. “That’s me. A little loud, a little messy, full of heart.”

She tilted her head. “And I’d be honored to do this with you. If you want me.”

I felt Cal squeeze my hand. I squeezed back.

“We really, really do,” we said together.

CHAPTER 11

I flungopen the door to the flower shop like a man who’d just won the lottery, the little bell above the door giving a joyfulring-a-ding-dingto my grand entrance. The scent of lilacs, eucalyptus, and whiskey wrapped around me like a hug from a tipsy aunt.

Mrs. Mulroney looked up from behind the counter, where she was hacking away at a stubborn ribbon with her rustiest pair of scissors. “You better be bringing me gossip or Irish coffee,” she said. “Preferably both.”

“I have news,” I announced, bursting into the shop with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for discovering a ten-dollar bill in the pocket of an old coat. “I have huge news. Amazing news.”

“If you’ve come to tell me you finally cleaned out that drawer in your kitchen, I’m gonna need to sit down.”

“No, but that’s on the list.”

“Because I was starting to worry something was going to hatch in there. The last thing the sewers in this city needs is another baby alligator.”

“This is better than a clean junk drawer. Way better.” I grinned, breathless. “We met her.”

Mrs. Mulroney froze mid-snip. “Her?”

“Leilani,” I said. “Our potential surrogate. We met her over Zoom last night and she’s… she’samazing. Like, funny and warm and grounded and real, and Cal and I just—” I broke off, too happy to speak.

“Sweet Jesus in a Kleenex commercial, are you about to cry?”

I nodded, words still failing me.

Her eyes softened, the scissors forgotten. “Well, now I’m either going to have to sit down… or pull out the good stuff.”

She stepped out from behind the counter, her old green cardigan half -covered in rose petals, and pulled two mismatched champagne flutes from the cabinet under the sink.

“I wasn’t planning to open this till noon,” she said, reaching under the counter and hauling out a bottle of champagne. “But what the hell.”

“You keep champagne at the flower shop? You’ve got a bottle of something everywhere, don’t you?”

“You best believe it, Sonny Jim. You never know when you might need a good pick-me-up. Church. The park where I like to go and vent to the pigeons. Hell, there’s probably still a bottle in the cistern of the third toilet stall in that downtown courthouse where I served jury duty.”

She popped the cork on the champagne with the ease of a woman who has opened more bottles than doors, then poured us each a glass.

“We’re going to Hawaii next week, to meet her in person. Leilani.” I raised my glass. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

“Speaking of new beginnings…” Mrs. Mulroney reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “I have news too.”

“You do? What is it?” I took the paper and unfolded it. It was a real estate contract… an offer.