Page 64 of The Billionaire's Paradise

Leilani pointed out the window. “That hotel right there—my cousin had his wedding there. And over there’s the park where Aunt Pikaki used to do free yoga for the neighborhood until she got banned for yelling at a tourist who tried to bring a parrot.”

“Why did the parrot cause a problem?” I asked.

“She said it disrupted the energy. But mostly she just hates birds.”

I laughed.

She kept pointing things out, each one laced with some odd, vivid detail.

“That statue over there? One of my uncles proposed to his third wife in front of it. I wasn’t there, but apparently she said yes and then passed out. Oh, and that diner there… best pancakes on the island. Also where my cousin gave birth unexpectedly in the bathroom. They now have a framed photo of the baby… right next to the dessert cart.”

She gestured at a tall banyan tree by the roadside. “That one? My uncle’s pig truck crashed into it on my twelfth birthday, and he never lived it down. Three pigs got out and ran through that church over there. One of them bit the priest. I can’t blame him. Father Fernandes was never very nice.”

“Your family doesn’t just live in Hawaii,” said Cal. “YouareHawaii.”

Leilani shrugged. “I know this place looks busy from the outside, with all the beaches and hotels and tourists everywhere. But Hawaii—I mean, the real Hawaii—isn’t very big at all. That’s why we need to do our best to protect what we’ve got.”

The car slowed as we turned off the main road and entered a quieter stretch lined with tidy trees and elegant signage.

And then we saw it.

The clinic.

White stone. Clean lines. Tall, tinted windows. Peaceful and professional and somehow slightly terrifying in its composure.

Leilani went quiet.

So did I.

Cal reached over and took my hand. “Well… here we are.”

The fertility clinic smelled like lemon wipes and espresso coffee from the pod machine in one corner of the waiting room.

The three of us stood side by side at the check-in desk, trying to look composed and competent while a receptionist with suspiciously flawless handwriting asked for our IDs, confirmation numbers, and signatures on a clipboard that might as well have said“please confirm you’re ready to be parents while strangers handle your fluids.”

Leilani stood between us, radiating calm.

Once we finished checking in, a nurse appeared and smiled warmly at her. “Leilani? We’re ready for you.”

She turned to us and took a deep breath. “Well… good luck.”

“You too,” Cal and I both said.

Then, just before she disappeared down a nearby corridor, she smirked and called back, “Shoot for the stars, boys! Make me proud… and don’t break anything!”

As her giggle followed her down the corridor, every head in the waiting room swiveled toward us.

I smiled too wide. Cal gave a tiny wave to the strangers staring at us.

“She means well,” I said.

“She really does,” Cal agreed.

A moment later, another nurse appeared—clipboard, badge, slightly amused expression.

“Matt and Cal? Tessa said it was okay for you to use the same collection room. We’ve got you set up just down the hall.”

Cal and I exchanged a look.