Page 34 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“I could cry,” I whispered.

“You already are,” Cal said, bumping his shoulder against mine.

Mr. Banks wandered out onto the veranda holding a tropical fruit he’d plucked up off the coffee table. “The dragon fruit mustn’t be in season yet. Tastes a little soapy.”

Rashida didn’t flinch. “That’s probably because it’s a candle.”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “That makes sense.”

“I call the bedroom with the best view of the sunset!” Mrs. Mulroney shouted, dragging her suitcases to the stairs.

“I call the hammock!” yelled Angus, sprinting barefoot toward the mango trees.

Mr. Banks wandered off toward the koi pond and muttered something about seeing Atlantis.

I turned to Rashida. “Thank you. This place is amazing.”

She adjusted her sunglasses. “You’re welcome, sugar. This trip is a big deal. If things work out with Leilani, you might be spending more time here than you know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to evict Mrs. Mulroney from my room before she uses the ladies’.”

As she made her way upstairs, Cal slipped an arm around my waist. “You like it?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, blinking fast.

He kissed the side of my head. “Then let’s make ourselves at home.”

CHAPTER 14

“I still don’t understandwhy we’re not allowed to come,” Mrs. Mulroney huffed, standing on the veranda in a pair of oversized sunglasses and a kaftan that looked like a floral print tent. “I even sanded back my bunyans so I could wear these sandals.”

“This is their first meeting,” Rashida said, not looking up from her phone. “They need space, quiet, and at least one conversation without you asking if they’re planning on teaching the baby Gaelic.”

Angus swung from side to side in his hammock. “I’m fine staying here so long as someone promises to take me shopping for Hawaiian shirts tomorrow.”

“I once owned a Hawaiian shirt made entirely of pineapple rings,” Mr. Banks chimed in. “It didn’t breathe well, but I was very popular with the bees.”

Cal grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the door. “We’ll be back before sunset.”

“And if Leilani has made any banana bread, we’ll bring some back,” I promised, not sure if that was a thing or if I was just panicking. “Okay. Wish us luck.”

Mrs. Mulroney crossed herself dramatically. “May the storks be with you!”

Leilani lived with her family on a lush piece of land tucked behind a cluster of kukui trees, where the path from the road narrowed into a shaded driveway lined with plants and wind chimes.

We pulled up in a cheap rental car, having agreed that a limo would make us look like rich, arrogant jerks.

The house itself was a low-slung, weathered beauty—white shutters, slatted windows, a long lanai that wrapped around the front like a welcoming arm. Children’s flip-flops were scattered in a pile near the steps. A sleepy dog lifted its head, then promptly went back to sleep.

Leilani met us at the gate, wearing a soft pink dress and a wide, beaming smile. “Hi,” she said, brushing back a curl. “You made it.”

“Of course,” I said. And then added, “Sorry, I’m very sweaty.”

She laughed. “You’re in Hawaii. It’s expected.”

Cal handed her a small bouquet of white orchids we’d picked up from a roadside flower stall along the way. “Thank you for having us.”

“I’m glad you came,” she said, then turned toward the house. “My family are all very excited to meet you. Which is code for ‘please be brave.’”

I glanced at Cal. “I was brave once. I returned soup at a restaurant.”