Page 41 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“I’ll translate that as—you’re thriving.”

“Exactly.”

A little ahead, a woman in a vibrant green muumuu turnedfrom the firepit with arms outstretched. “Aloha, my sweets! You made it!”

Leilani beamed. “This is my Tutu.”

Tutu enfolded both of us into a warm, fragrant hug that smelled of ginger and sea air and comfort. She held us tight, then stepped back and looked into our eyes with a steadiness that made the world quiet.

“Welcome to our family,” she said simply.

The words landed with ease… and gravity… and so much sincerity that I had to blink the smoke out of my eyes.

Cal cleared his throat.

And then, behind us, a soft gasp.

“Princess Makani?” came Mr. Banks’s voice, breathless, trembling. “Is it really you?”

We all turned. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket at some point and was holding his top hat in both hands like a man at a funeral—or “dancer number five” in the chorus line of a Fred Astaire musical.

Makani blinked. For a moment she looked startled. Then her eyes widened, her hand moving slowly to her mouth like she was witnessing a miracle. “Bratwurst? Baron Bratwurst Schnitzelstein? Could it be?”

Mr. Banks nodded. “I—I go by Mr. Banks now. Basil Banks. But yes. It’s me.”

She stepped closer. “You’re older.”

“You’re… still perfect.”

And just like that, they were embracing. Gently, reverently. Her hands pressed flat against his back as if to confirm he was real. His head bowed to her shoulder like it had always belonged there.

Nobody spoke.

Even the crackling fire seemed to hush. A nearby toddler dropped a musubi. Somewhere behind us, a ukulele gave a single startled twang.

Mrs. Mulroney blinked like she’d just seen an angel—or a tax inspector. “Did he just call herPrincess?”

Cal leaned forward, squinting. “Did she just call himBaron?”

“I’m sorry,” I uttered to Cal. “Have we been living with German royalty and didn’t even know it?”

Cal shook his head. “Surely not. Mr. Banks makes up stories all the time.”

We all stared at the intimate embrace between Mr. Banks and Leilani’s grandmother. “That doesn’t look made up to me,” I said.

Angus’s mouth was open so wide you could’ve parked a canoe in it. “Hold on. Back up. Mr. Banks’s first name isBasil? Since when?!”

Mr. Banks didn’t look at us. His eyes were only for her.

After a long moment, Makani pulled back, her smile soft and radiant. “You disappeared so quickly, I thought the ocean took you.”

Mr. Banks gave a little shake of his head. “You know I couldn’t stay. Your father was never going to accept me.”

I turned to Cal, stunned. “What is happening?”

“I have no idea,” he whispered. “But I think we just got bumped to second place in the romance department.”

A low murmur rippled through the family, but it was cut off by a firm voice from the far end of the firepit.