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“And immediately start sniffing out the nearest bottle of whiskey.”

“God help us all.”

We lay there in silence, the ocean murmuring outside, our pulses finally beginning to slow.

Until I said, “Okay, but—Angus and Kimo? What was that all about?”

Cal groaned softly into my shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t know, babe.”

“They locked eyes across a roast pig, and I swear I heard a harp.”

“Do not say twin flames. Don’t do it.”

“I’m not saying it. I’m just saying… somebody’s aura might’ve whooshed.” I tilted my head to look at him. “You saw it, right? I wasn’t hallucinating?”

Cal exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I saw it too. Kimo looked like he’d been hit by lightning. And Angus said he was having heart palpitations.”

“Ithoughthe was fine! But then they locked eyes across the pork platter and everything went slow motion. And did you hear the whimper? Angus actually whimpered.”

Cal laughed under his breath. “Honestly? I think it’s kind of sweet.”

“I do too! I just… didn’t see it coming.”

“Me neither,” he said, smiling up at the ceiling. “But hey—if Angus found something real on this island, I’m all for it.”

Cal’s thumb traced the line of my hip, like he was ready to put the night aside and reset our emotions. But my brain had other ideas.

“Do you think Makani’s really a princess?”

Cal shifted onto his elbow, squinting down at me. “Babe, I was about to get romantic.”

I barely heard him. “Because that would mean Mr. Banks—our Mr. Banks—is romantically entangled with Hawaiian royalty.”

“They were romantically entangled?”

“You saw them!” I sat up a little. “They were holding hands! And whispering! She kissed his cheek like she remembered the taste! There’s nothing past tense about it.”

Cal blinked at me. “So?”

“So…” I said dramatically. “If she’s royal, that means Leilani is royal, which means our child will be part of the royal bloodline.”

“I’m too tired to process anything right now.”

“You were about to make whoopie.”

“Now I’m about to roll over and go to sleep.”

“We need to ask Leilani.”

“About the bloodline?”

“Yes.”

“And if our child is going to be fourth in line for a throne and a scepter?”

“Don’t mock the possibility of inherited tropical power,” I said, curling back against him.

“I’m not mocking. I’m refusing to acknowledge the panic in your voice.”