16. Sebastian
I had never been this happy.
It was a foreign sensation, happiness. I knew satisfaction. Accomplishment. The grim pleasure of closing a deal or outmaneuvering a competitor. But this? This bubbling, ridiculous feeling that filled my chest every time I looked at her?
New. Terrifying. Addictive.
We spent our days together now. Wandering the hotel like we owned it, which I supposed one of us eventually might.
The competition had faded into background noise.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd thought about acquisition strategies or profit margins or any of the things that had consumed me two weeks ago.
We kissed in the garden, hidden behind a wall of hibiscus.
In the empty ballroom, dust motes floating in the afternoon light.
In the kitchen after hours, when the staff had gone home and the only witness was an industrial refrigerator humming in the corner.
We learned each other's bodies when we got the chance, quick and urgent in a supply closet, slow and thorough in the hours before dawn.
It should have felt strange. It didn't.
The nights were ours.
We'd stopped pretending to maintain separate rooms. Aria's things had migrated to my suite piece by piece. A toothbrush on the bathroom counter. A sundress draped over the chair. Her sandals by the door, kicked off carelessly, nothing like the precise way I lined up my shoes.
We fell asleep tangled together and woke up the same way. Every morning, I opened my eyes to dark hair spread across the pillow next to mine, and I had to remind myself this was real. That I hadn't invented her. That she was here, warm and solid and mine.
The tightness in my chest had eased. That constant pressure I'd carried for so long I'd stopped noticing it. Gone. In its place, something lighter. Something that made breathing feel less like a chore.
I could say what I felt now. The words came easier than they ever had. Aria didn't flinch when I was honest. Didn't use my vulnerability as a weapon. She just listened, and held my hand, and sometimes kissed me quiet when the words got too heavy.
My phone rang while Aria was out on the balcony, curled up in a lounge chair with a book.
I watched her through the glass doors as I answered.
The ocean breeze was playing with her hair, lifting dark strands and setting them down again.
She tucked one behind her ear without looking up from the page.
"Dad?"
I turned away from the view. "Hey, princess. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that Gigi is taking us out today. Me and Aunt Isabelle." A pause. "To lunch. At some fancy place."
"That sounds nice."
"I guess." She didn't sound convinced. "Aunt Isabelle says I shouldn't worry because Gigi's been acting weird. She’s nicer. It’s so weird."
"She's trying. Give her a chance."
"I know. I will." Another pause, longer this time. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"You sound weird."
I almost laughed. "Weird how?"
"I don't know. Just... different. Like, less stressed or something."
I glanced at Aria again. She'd set down her book and was watching the waves, her profile soft against the bright sky.
"Something good happened, actually," I said.
"Is it about the hotel?"
"Not exactly."
Silence on the other end. I could picture Evie processing, that furrow between her eyebrows when she was thinking hard about something.
"What is it?" she asked finally. "I mean, if you want to tell me. I know you might think I'm not old enough to know stuff."
I closed my eyes. This was the part where the old Sebastian would deflect. Change the subject. Keep his personal life locked away where no one could touch it.
I was tired of being the old Sebastian.
"How would you feel," I said slowly, "if Aria and I were... more than friends?"
"You mean like dating?"
"Something like that."
The silence stretched so long I started to worry. I could hear her breathing, could picture her sitting somewhere in the townhouse, phone pressed to her ear, trying to figure out how she felt about her father suddenly having a love life.
"I think I'd be happy," she said finally. "If you were happy." A pause. "And if she was still around for me, too."
My throat tightened. "She would be. Nothing would change between you and her."
"Okay then." Her voice brightened, the tension dissolving. "I like Aria. She's kind and caring. She's not like you at all, Dad."
"Gee, thanks."
"You know what I mean. She's warm. She actually talks about feelings and stuff." A beat. "Does she like you, too?"
"I think she might."
"That's surprising."
"Ouch."
"What? You're talking to me about your feelings, Dad. That's literally never happened before."
I laughed. The sound surprised me. "Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Definitely good." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Maybe Aria's rubbing off on you."
"Maybe she is."
We talked for a few more minutes. Evie filled me in on life at the foundation, the projects Priya had her working on, how Nalani was teaching her about community outreach.
She complained about the reading list Isabelle had given her, some books about fashion history that sounded tedious but she was powering through. Normal stuff. Father-daughter stuff.
It felt easy in a way it never had before.
After we hung up, I stood there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at the screen. Then I slid the door open and stepped onto the balcony.
Aria looked up, squinting against the sun. Her book was face-down on her lap, her place marked by a pressed flower she'd found in the garden yesterday.
"Everything okay?"
I sat in the chair beside her. "Evie approves of you."
Her eyebrows rose. "You told her?"
"Figured she should know. If we're getting serious."
The words hung in the air. Aria's expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes that I couldn't quite read.
"Are we?" she asked. "Getting serious?"
"I think so." I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. "If that's what you want."
She looked away. Out at the ocean, at the waves rolling endlessly toward shore.
The panic hit fast. I'd pushed too hard. Assumed too much. We'd been in this bubble for less than a week and I was already talking about serious, about labels, about a future that existed beyond these two weeks.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have brought it up like that. Should have talked to you first before saying anything to Evie."
"It's okay." But her voice was careful. Measured. "It's just... things are moving fast."
"I know."
"A few days ago we were at each other's throats. And now..." She shook her head. "Now I don't know what this is."
I was quiet for a moment. Thinking.
"Do you want to put a label on it?" I asked.
She looked at me then. Something scared in her eyes. "What if this is just Hawaii? What if we get back to New York and everything's different? What if this whole thing just... dissolves?"
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know how I felt when I kissed you in New York." I squeezed her fingers. "Before Hawaii. Before any of this. That wasn't the island, Aria. That was real."
She was quiet. The waves crashed below us. A bird called somewhere in the distance, high and sweet.
"Maybe we wait," she said finally. "Until we leave this bubble. See if it survives in the real world before we start putting labels on it."
It wasn't the answer I wanted. But it wasn't a no.
"Okay," I said. "We wait."
She smiled then. Small, but real. She squeezed my hand back.
We sat in comfortable silence, watching the waves, fingers intertwined. Like teenagers. Like people who had all the time in the world.
I knew this couldn't last forever. The evaluation ended in three days. We'd fly back to New York, back to our real lives, back to all the complications we'd been ignoring. The hotel. The competition. The families who'd been circling each other for decades.
But for now, I let myself pretend it could.
For now, I let myself be happy.