by Nicola Marsh
“You know exactly how good you are.” She rolled onto her side to face him, the afterglow of amazing sex and two orgasms fading as she looked into his startling blue eyes and wondered if their child would have the same unique color.
“Guys have big egos, and we like to be stroked.”
“We’re still talking about egos, right?”
He chuckled, idly caressing her hip in languorous strokes that made her skin pebble. “I was freaking out about the audition when I saw you earlier today, but even in my nervous funk, all I could think about was how it’s been two weeks since we’ve been together and how badly I wanted to spend some time with you again.”
“Wow, that’s the longest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She rested her hand against his chest, savoring the crisp hair beneath her palm. “But yeah, I kind of missed you too.”
“High praise indeed,” he said, his familiar lopsided smile doing weird things to her insides. Or was that their baby already wreaking havoc? “So why didn’t you call?”
“I’ve been busy.”
It sounded like the lame excuse it was.
“Your mom still trying to marry you off to that Indian dude?”
“Yeah, we actually had lunch today.”
His hand stilled, and a tiny dent appeared between his brows. “The three of you, together?”
“Relax, it’s not like it sounds.” She reached out, her fingertip smoothing away his frown. “Mom’s constantly going on about Manny, so I thought by her seeing there’s no spark between us, she might back off.”
“Is that what happened?”
“No, so I told her about you to make sure she got the message.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You told her about me?”
“Yeah.”
His smile returned, part bashful, part proud. “I guess we really are dating, then.”
“Something like that.”
Would that make it easier for her mom to accept her pregnancy? Doubtful. Being of Indian descent and an unwed mother did not make for a happy baby shower. Kushi would love her grandchild, Samira had no doubt about that, but after their discussion regarding the aunties and how the Indian community had rallied around her after her dad died, would they ostracize Kushi all over again?
Their judgment wouldn’t affect Samira all that much; she wouldn’t be around . . . That was the moment reality set in.
Her baby had a father.
An Aussie father.
Who resided in Australia.
Would Rory be amenable to her taking the child to live halfway across the world and thus cutting down his access to minimal?
“What’s wrong?” His frown had returned, deeper than ever. “Is there something you’re not telling me about this Manny guy? Do you have feelings for him?”
“No, absolutely not.” She shook her head. “We’re friends, that’s it. But I’ve got a lot on my mind, what with Pia leaving me in charge of the center for a few weeks while she takes some time off to be with her husband.”
Another complication in this fraught scenario. Pia loved her like a sister, but how would her cousin feel about her conceiving so easily when she’d been trying for years and it still hadn’t happened?
Samira had been gutted to learn about Avi’s impending fatherhood all those years ago, and she knew deep down his cheating hadn’t devastated her as much as the fact that the other woman was having the baby she craved so much.
She knew Pia loved her, but infertility wore a person down, and hearing Samira’s news would be a sucker punch. Pia was the most logical, methodical person she knew, and for her cousin to resort to alternative therapies like crystals meant she was desperate. Samira needed her support to get through this pregnancy, but it might appear callous, like she was rubbing Pia’s nose in her fertility.
“Is everything okay with her?”
“Yeah, she’s trying to have a baby.”
Crap, why did she blurt that out? Then again, it gave her a chance to study Rory carefully for a reaction. A wrinkle of a nose, a screwed-up face, any sign he didn’t like kids and she could hold off telling him about theirs.
But he looked back at her, his expression thoughtful. “She’s great. I really hope it works out for her.”
Impressed by his genuine caring, she pressed her palm to his cheek again. “You’re a good guy, Rory Radcliffe, and I can’t wait to see you on TV.”
A cheeky glint lit his eyes. “Why wait, when you can see all of me now?”
With that, he whipped off the top sheet, leaving him gloriously naked.
Yeah, that was exactly what she needed.
She could mull the staggering news of her baby and the consequences for everyone later.
Twenty-Seven
After another glorious night in Samira’s bed, Rory headed for the rec hall at the housing commission flats. He’d wanted to tell Amelia the good news in person yesterday but had got sidetracked— and how—with Samira.
She’d been different last night, preoccupied and less chatty than previous times they’d got together. It had made him nervous, because he preferred it when she filled the silences between them. He believed her when she said she didn’t like that Manny guy as anything more than a friend, but a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if she was torn over it. It was hard not to bow to family pressure; he should know, considering dear old dad still continued to hound him regarding a change in career. And after not seeing her mom for so many years, it stood to reason she’d want to please her.
Stupid, to have doubts after yet another incredible night together. If she’d told her mom about him, she was into him as much as he was into her. Unless she was using him as an excuse? He hadn’t delved into how much she’d told her mom about him. In fact, he’d been so euphoric he hadn’t questioned much. He’d been content to celebrate in her arms. A simple man with simple tastes. But would he make life more complicated for her if he pushed for answers regarding their relationship and her mother’s acceptance of them as a couple?
As he parked outside the flats, he caught sight of Davey, the nine-year-old with a bad stutter who he’d talked to the last time he’d been out here. He stood on the outskirts of a group of boys who were kicking a can between them, jostling for position, mucking around. Rory paused as he got out of his car and closed the door, stunned by the overwhelming sensation of helplessness.
He’d been like Davey once, always on the outside looking in, craving acceptance, feeling like a freak because he didn’t talk like everyone else. What would have happened if he hadn’t got help? Considering how gauche he still felt in certain social situations, how he avoided relationships, how inferior he felt to people like his father, he knew exactly what would’ve happened. He’d still be an outcast, and he certainly wouldn’t be fronting a new TV show.
He wanted Davey and the kids like him to have the choices he had, and thanks to the money he could now contribute to the program, they’d have those choices. It made him feel ten feet tall.
Striding toward the rec hall, he waved at Davey, who offered a half-raised hand in return. However, rather than hang back as he’d expected, the kid approached him.
“Hey, Davey.”
“Hi.”
“I’m here to see Amelia about that speech therapy program I mentioned. Have you enrolled yet?”
Davey nodded, a small smile lighting his somber face. “Y-yes. I w-w-want to t-t-talk b-b-better.”
“Good for you, champ.” Rory ruffled his hair. “You need to do all the homework Amelia gives you, okay? I didn’t like it at first, but when I noticed my speech improving over time, it made me want to work even harder.”
Davey gave him a thumbs-up sign and a grin. Rory had often resorted to hand signals rather than talking as a kid too.
“See you around, buddy.”
Hoping Davey would take his advice to hea
rt, he entered the rec hall and spied Amelia in a far corner, hanging up some enunciation posters. He’d seen the same ones in her office years ago, with “ph,” “th,” “kn,” and “fr” sounds to be practiced.
“I remember those,” he called out, striding across the hall.
“That’s because you were the hardest-working student I ever had,” she said, sticking up the last one before dusting off her hands. “How are you?”
“Good. Great, in fact.” He grinned, and one of her eyebrows quirked. “You still after that ten grand?”
Hope lit her eyes. “You’ve got it?”
“Yeah. I had an audition yesterday for a really big role, and I got it.”
“Congratulations, Rory, I’m so happy for you.” She hugged him, before stepping back to eyeball him. “But there aren’t too many stuntman roles that pay that kind of money, so where are you really getting it?” Concern creased her brow. “I hope you’re not taking a loan for this—”
“I landed the role of host on a new reality show, so no leaping off tall buildings or high-speed car chases this time.”
She gaped for a moment, before eyeing him with admiration. “I’m so proud of you. I always knew you could take on a speaking role.”
“I didn’t, but this program and the foundation we’re setting up is important to me, and I want these kids here to have the opportunities I did.”
“You’re a good guy, Rory Radcliffe,” she said, her words echoing Samira’s from last night and making him blush.
“Obviously, I don’t have the money yet, but my agent emailed through the contract this morning, and I get ten grand on signing, and more as filming starts, after the first five episodes, that kind of thing, on a sliding scale.”
A shadow passed over her face. “Are you sure about this? Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. You could put a deposit on a home or save it or—”
“I want to do this,” he said, his authoritative tone brooking no argument. “Give me the banking details, and I’ll forward the money across as soon as I get it.”
She flung her arms around him again and hugged tight before releasing him. “So many kids are going to benefit from this thanks to your generosity.”
“I’m counting on it.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the doorway. “There’s a kid out there, Davey. His stutter is pretty bad, and he’s on the outs with the other kids because of it. He’s keen to work hard.”
“I’ll make sure he does,” she said, her knowing expression alerting him that she knew why he’d mentioned Davey—because he saw so much of himself in the kid. “Thanks again, Rory. You’ve really come through for us.”
“My pleasure. I’ll be in touch.” He glanced around the hall, pleased with how everything was coming together from the vision the two of them first had. “And I’m happy to take as much of an active role in the program as you need, like dropping by occasionally to having informal chats with the kids, that kind of thing?”
“Great.” Her beatific smile made him feel like he’d hung those posters with sheer willpower alone.
As she returned to her task, he wondered if she knew what a difference she’d made in his life and how this donation was a small gesture of eternal gratitude.
Amelia really had changed his life, and he hoped she could do the same for these less-fortunate kids.
Twenty-Eight
Samira had managed to get through the workday without spilling her secret to Pia. She’d wanted to blab so many times but knew it would be better to wait until they met after work for handover.
Knowing Pia, she’d have a stack of files to go through regarding management of the center, despite her only going away for a month. Besides, Samira wouldn’t have to do much beyond oversee any major decisions. Their office manager was extremely competent, and Samira wished she could poach her to run her practice back in LA.
A sliver of unease made her rub her bare arms. Every time she’d thought about returning to LA over the last twenty-four hours she’d had the same reaction. She’d treated this six-month stay in Melbourne as a jaunt, a way to re-bond with her mother while helping her cousin. But LA was her home these days, and she’d looked forward to heading back.
Yet the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant, the ties that bound her to Melbourne tightened around her, and oddly, they didn’t feel so constricting. The baby’s father lived here. Her mom lived here. Her best friend/cousin lived here. A support network a single mother needed.
But could she do it?
Move back to the city she’d fled because an entire community had judged her and found her lacking?
Have her mom love the baby but give her side-eye because of who the father was and their lack of wedding rings?
Give up the comfort of having an ocean between them when her mom’s matchmaking grew unbearable?
She knew Kushi. The minute she learned about this pregnancy, she’d be booking the town hall for a reception. Not that her mom needed an excuse, but having a child on her own without being married would plunge Kushi back into matrimonial machinations; and the rest of her cronies too. Not too many babies were born in the local community without both parents wed. And those who were would be gossiped about over countless cups of chai.
Interesting, that when the news of Avi’s infidelity had broken and she’d left him, it seemed like she’d borne the brunt of the gossip. Never mind that Avi’s first child had been born out of wedlock. His family had such a huge standing in the Indian community, they’d glossed over that salient fact and thrown a lavish traditional wedding the month after her divorce had been finalized.
Not that she cared what the local community thought of her, but Kushi did, and the fact her mom might be ostracized again after Samira left was a sobering thought.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” Pia breezed into the conference room and shut the door. “You look like this.” Pia pulled a weepy face. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing like that . . . How did you know I’ve been with Rory again?”
Pia grinned and tapped her temple. “He called me this morning to thank me for all the dialect coaching and to tell me he got the job.”
“But how did you know—”
“I saw you two sneaking out of here yesterday afternoon, and I figured you ‘celebrated.’” Pia made cutesy quotation mark signs around the last word. “How’s it going with you two?”
“Good,” she said, nerves making her palms clammy. She needed to tell Pia about the pregnancy, but she knew firsthand how hard it was to hear about other women’s fertility when struggling with your own.
They may be cousins and best friends, but deep down, Samira knew this would test their bond.
“Good seems pretty tame considering how fast you two wanted to get somewhere more private yesterday.”
Samira’s cheeks flushed. “He’s great, actually. We have a lot of fun together.”
“So that’s what you’re calling it these days.” Pia snickered before nodding her approval. “He’s a nice guy. Perfect fling material while you’re in town.”
Samira had to tell Pia that Rory was more than a fling. He was the father of her child. She dragged in a steadying breath and blew it out. “Yeah, but is he daddy material?”
Pia’s eyes widened with shock before she gave a short laugh. “You’re crazy. Why would you consider trying to get pregnant with a guy you won’t see again when you head back to LA?” Her gaze slid away. “Not to mention the fact you had major problems conceiving years ago with Avi and you’re older now—”
“I’m pregnant,” Samira blurted, unable to keep the news in a second longer. “I know it’s madness because I rarely get periods and we used protection, but the condom broke, and I’m reeling from the shock, but I’m happy too, and I had to tell you.”
All the color drained from Pia’s face as she stood ramrod straight, he
r fingers curling into fists before unfurling, over and over, like she wanted to pump blood to the rest of her body.
Pia’s stricken expression and rigid posture made Samira wish she’d couched the news in better terms, but what could she say other than the truth? “I know it doesn’t make sense considering how hard I tried to conceive with Avi, but who knows, maybe there’s something to Mom’s belief in fate or karma or whatever, and this is the right time for me?”
Pia’s pallor hadn’t improved. If anything, she looked worse, and Samira took a step toward her. Her cousin flinched, and Samira stopped, unsure whether to approach to give her a hug or not.
“I know this is a shock—”
“What do you mean you’re pregnant?”
Pia spoke slowly, enunciating every single word with icy emphasis, her tone frigid. Her catatonic, unblinking stare unnerved Samira, but she’d had to do this, had to tell her cousin everything; it would be better than Pia finding out from someone else, and Samira had no doubt that could happen once she told her mom and the Indian grapevine got hold of the news.
“It’s nuts, I know—”
“No, you don’t know.” Pia stalked toward her on wooden legs, her steps jerky, before pulling out the chair next to Samira and collapsing onto it. “You have no fucking idea how nuts it really is.”
Samira startled and reached out to comfort Pia, only to have her scoot away like her touch was abhorrent.
“I know this must be tough on you—”
“Tough?” Pia snorted, an ugly sound ripped from deep within. “Tough doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now.”
Samira had expected Pia to have a hard time with the news of her pregnancy, but she hadn’t expected this cold disdain, like she’d somehow done this deliberately to hurt her. But then she glimpsed the truth in Pia’s eyes.
Pain. Potent and raw. Complete and utter devastation.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Pia barked out. “I know I’m being a bitch, but I can’t handle . . . I mean, I can’t deal . . .” She let out a sob that raised Samira’s hackles.
