Page 81 of The Billionaire's Paradise

“No,” Kimo said. “I mean you need to getinit. Move. Swim. Float. Splash. Remind yourselves you’re mammals, not ticking time bombs.” He quickly glanced at Leilani. “No offence, cuz.”

“None taken,” Leilani said flatly. “But if you think I’m getting on a paddleboard, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“No one’s making you. Not in your condition.”

“Wow,” she muttered sarcastically. “Being pregnant really does have its perks.”

“Sorry,” Mrs. Mulroney said, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “What the hell is a paddleboard?”

“It’s like a surfboard, but better,” Kimo said with way too much enthusiasm for the room. “Imagine walking on water. With a paddle. It’s meditative. It’s healing. It’s transformative.”

Mrs. Mulroney slammed her puzzle book shut. “The only person who ever walked on water was Jesus, which, if you ask me was a complete waste of his talents. Turning water into wine, on the other hand… now that’s a miracle worth performing.”

“You don’t have to stand up,” Cal said. “You can kneel. Or sit.”

“Which is what I’m doing quite comfortably right here on this couch,” she replied. “Where no one’s watching me flail around like a harpooned sea cow.”

“Come on, Mrs. Mulroney,” Tilly said, grabbing her hand. “It’ll be fun. It’s a family thing.”

“Family things involve smelly cheese and stale crackers. Not water sports and the risk of death.”

“No one’s dying,” Kimo assured her.

“Jesus walked on water and look what happened to him.”

“Come on, Mrs. Mulroney,” I said. “Even I’m willing to give it a go. I think we all need this. Together. It’s good for the baby if we stop snapping at each other like a bunch of moody meerkats.”

Mrs. Mulroney looked at each of us. One by one. Then down at her sandals.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if I so much as see a jellyfish, I’m calling my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer,” Rashida said.

“Not yet I don’t.”

And with that, we all changed into our swimsuits and slathered on the sunscreen while Kimo raced home and returned with a trailer full of paddleboards and Tutu riding shotgun in the passenger seat.

Mr. Banks beamed. “My princess! You’re joining us?”

“Oh no, Basil. I came to watch. I couldn’t miss the chance to see my man in action.”

I caught sight of Angus rolling his eyes.

I had to admit I wasn’t exactly excited about things either.

But I was desperate.

For movement.

For distraction.

For something to break the cycle of slow-building tension and third-trimester claustrophobia.

While Leilani and Tutu sat together on the sand to watch, the rest of us shuffled down to the beach like a herd of uncertain tourists being led toward a scam… that is, until we saw the ocean.

The water was absurdly perfect—blue, calm and shimmering. It was the kind of day travel brochures faked with Photoshop, and Kimo was practically vibrating with smugness.

“See?” he said, gesturing to the water. “Ideal paddleboarding conditions. Flat as a pancake. Gentle as a hug.”