Page 36 of The Billionaire's Paradise

There were woven mats on the floor, books stacked sideways on low tables, and a cluster of carved turtles gathered on a shelf like they were in the middle of a very slow conversation. The airfelt lived -in and loved. It felt as though it was welcoming me to stay… yet I wasn’t sure if we even belonged.

He gestured us toward a couple of low sofas in the center of the room. I sat a little too quickly. Cal followed with more grace, naturally, setting himself down next to me.

Leilani brought out cold hibiscus tea and joined us. “My grandmother will be out in a minute.”

“Oh, we’d love to meet her,” I said.

“Would you now?” came a voice from behind us, weathered yet strong.

Cal and I stood to see a woman in her late seventies, perhaps early eighties, step into the room. She was barefoot, wearing a loose cotton dress and a hibiscus flower tucked behind one ear. Her skin was warm bronze and softly wrinkled, her dark hair streaked with silver and pulled into a long braid.

She moved like the wind knew her name.

Her eyes were impossibly bright.

She looked at us for all of one second before saying, “You brought flowers, but no donuts. We have a garden full of flowers. Yet no donut tree.”

“I—sorry. I didn’t—”

Leilani rolled her eyes. “Don’t apologize. She’s just teasing. Cal, Matt… this is my grandmother, Tutu Makani.” She turned to the old woman and said, “Tutu, please tell them you’re just teasing while I go get some refreshments for our guests.”

“Of course I’m teasing,” she said, with a smile that crinkled all the right places. With a wave of her hands she said to me and Cal, “Sit. And scooch over, the both of you. I want to sit between you and hold your hands.”

“Hold our hands?” I asked.

“So I can get to know you a little better. Don’t worry, I’m not about to ask you to the prom just yet.”

We did as we were told and Leilani’s grandmother easedherself down between us. She took our hands, her palms warm and etched with wrinkles.

For a moment she sat in silence, before turning to me and saying, “You’re the worrier, but your fear is not as strong as your love. You will make a wonderful father.”

I almost cried—again—before she squeezed Cal’s hand and said, “And you, you’re the warrior. You have great power. But do you have the courage to do what’s right?”

Cal and I looked at each other, confused, before he said, “I… I hope so. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You will. In time.”

She released our hands gently, then patted her knees and sighed like she’d just read three chapters of our souls. She folded her hands in her lap and looked between us, calm and steady.

“Family is not a hobby,” she said. “It’s a promise. You love, you show up, and you keep showing up. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

She looked at me, then at Cal. “If you’re here to start a family… then lay each stone like you plan to walk it every day.”

Leilani appeared in the doorway holding a small tray of sliced mango and what looked suspiciously like banana bread. “Tutu, stop scaring them.”

“I’m not scaring them,” Makani replied, reaching for a slice of mango. “I’m testing their spiritual fortitude. And their manners. We’re yet to see if they pass.”

“You’re not the one conducting the interview,” Leilani said, setting the tray down on the table.

“I conduct everything,” Makani said. “I’m old. That’s the rule.”

She looked at Cal again. “You love this one?” she asked, jerking a thumb in my direction.

Cal smiled. “Yes. Very much.”

“Good. He’ll need you.”

Then she turned to me. “And you. You think too much.”