The Boy Toy

by Nicola Marsh

  This time when Samira stepped forward and reached for her, Pia allowed her to bundle her into her arms, as she heard a whispered, “It should’ve been me.”

  Samira’s heart ached for her cousin as she held her tight, waiting until her tears subsided before easing away.

  “It will happen for you—”

  “Please don’t give me platitudes right now.” Pia shrugged off Samira’s arms and stood, backing away. “I need time to process.”

  “Okay.”

  As resentment replaced the sorrow in Pia’s gaze, Samira wished things could be different. She hadn’t expected Pia to be over the moon about her pregnancy, but they’d been best friends for a long time, and Pia hadn’t even offered congratulations. In fact, Pia was so consumed by self-pity and resentment she’d pretty much forgotten how Samira had once yearned for a child and how shattered she’d been when she couldn’t have one.

  Considering her oligomenorrhea, conceiving naturally at her age was nothing short of a miracle, and a part of her wished Pia would acknowledge that rather than . . . blaming her.

  “I have to say, it’s pretty irresponsible of you, what with you taking on the role here for six months and—”

  “Are you kidding me?” Samira shook her head, unable to bite her tongue a moment longer. “You’re telling me off like I’m a child for something that is so incredible for me I can hardly believe it?”

  She pressed her hand protectively over her stomach, an instinctive reaction she’d seen other mothers-to-be do and had been envious of each and every time. “I was worried about telling you my news, but I also hoped you’d share in my excitement. You know how much this means to me . . .”

  She trailed off as Pia’s lips compressed in disapproval. “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you’re happy for me? That you love me and you’ll support me through this? That you’ll be here for me?” Samira flung her arms wide. “I need you—”

  “And I already told you, I need time,” Pia muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t do this right now.”

  With that, Pia spun on her heel and marched to the door, leaving Samira stunned and incredibly hurt.

  “Pia, please . . .”

  In response to her plea, Pia slammed the door.

  Twenty-Nine

  Rory may never have had a real relationship, but when Samira called asking him to meet at her place ASAP, he knew something was drastically wrong.

  She exuded a vibrancy he loved, and that carried through to her voice, whether she was discussing her work or LA or her family. But she’d been subdued on the phone, and her request had a hint of plea about it. It scared him. Just his luck when he was on top of the world professionally and personally, something had to go wrong.

  Was she dumping him before they’d barely started up? Crazy, considering their afternoon together yesterday and the way they’d left things this morning. They were dating. Officially. So why would she do a backflip so soon?

  He’d made it to her place in record time and tried not to appear too cagey as the security guard who took him up to her room kept casting suspicious glances his way. He knew why. He fidgeted whenever he was nervous, so the constant watch checking, belt tightening, finger flexing must make him look like someone up to no good.

  When they reached her door, he stabbed at the bell, trying to ignore the guard’s stare. She took an eternity to answer, and when she opened the door, the dread in his gut solidified into a solid ball of worry.

  Bloodshot eyes. Red-tipped nose. She’d been crying.

  “Thanks, mate, I’ve got it from here,” he said to the guard, who waited until Samira gave a nod of approval before striding away.

  “Are you okay?” He took her into his arms without waiting for a response, hoping a hug could do more than words ever could. Besides, if he held her, he wouldn’t be tempted to blab, Are you dumping me?

  “Hmm,” she mumbled against his chest, squeezing him tight.

  When she showed no signs of wanting to let go, he held her tighter. How many times had he craved a comforting hug when he was younger? Too many, courtesy of his dad’s callous indifference, especially when he asked questions about where his mom was. He’d given up asking after a while; because of his nerves, he’d inevitably stutter worse than usual and would earn one of his dad’s impatient glares, and he hated those as much as his lack of answers.

  After what seemed like an eternity, her grip loosened and she eased out of his arms. He braced—for her to avoid his eyes or for a cold expression—but to his relief, she slipped her hand into his and tugged him toward the sofa.

  “I have to say, you’re kinda scaring me,” he said, sitting next to her. “What’s going on?”

  “I had a massive fight with Pia.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, disappointment in her eyes. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t blurt the first response that came to mind: Is that all? They were family, so he figured this wouldn’t have been their first falling-out. But she was seriously rattled, so whatever was said, it must’ve been big.

  “You two are close, yeah?”

  She nodded, staring at their clasped hands rather than meeting his gaze. “Best friends as well as cousins, so I expected more from her . . .”

  She shook her head and raised it but still couldn’t meet his eyes. “I told her something earth-shattering, and while I didn’t expect her to like it, I expected more support.”

  Earth-shattering? That didn’t sound good. Was she sick? Leaving early? At least he could strike dumping him off his list of suppositions; considering they’d barely got together officially, breaking up definitely wouldn’t classify as earth-shattering.

  “Family can be hard to deal with at times.”

  Didn’t he know it.

  She cast him an odd look. “You never talk about yours. What are they like?”

  “Mom left when I was a kid, almost four, so I barely remember her. Dad and I aren’t close.”

  Thankfully, he couldn’t see pity in her stare, merely curiosity. “No other extended family? Cousins?”

  Her sudden interest in his family confused him. Then again, maybe she was trying to deflect attention from hers and would rather focus on his.

  “No, both my parents were only kids, and all my grandparents are dead.”

  He’d hated grandparents’ day at school because he had nobody. Other kids who didn’t have grandparents had one of their parents turn up, or a close relative. His father had always been too busy with “important legal work,” so Rory would sit quietly in the back corner of the class, trying to force a smile when other grandparents politely inquired about his latest art project or portfolio because they felt sorry for him.

  Though it could’ve been worse. In third grade, his teacher from the previous year must’ve given his dad a subtle hint about his lack of attendance, because his father had actually sent one of his PAs from work. Rory had met her only once previously. It had been beyond embarrassing, and he’d remained mute rather than attempt to answer her faux-interested questions, because he knew his nerves would exacerbate his stutter and he was bad enough in front of strangers.

  “So it’s just you and your dad?” She hesitated, gnawing on her bottom lip. “It’s a shame you’re not close if it’s just the two of you.”

  “I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask me over to talk about my crappy relationship with my dad,” he said, not willing to discuss the many reasons he didn’t get on with the illustrious Garth Radcliffe. “So is your argument with Pia the only reason you’re so upset?”

  “Who says I’m upset?”

  Her response came out a tad high, and he raised an eyebrow, earning a bashful smile. “Okay, you got me. I have something to tell you, and I’m hoping you won’t freak out.”

  Intrigued, he squeezed her hand. “I pretty much guarantee there’s nothing you
can tell me that will make me freak out. I’m a laid-back guy.”

  “Yeah, but this is big . . .” She huffed out a breath, and as her gaze collided with his, he glimpsed genuine fear.

  “I know we haven’t been dating long, but I’m here and I’m listening.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. “Tell me.”

  She stared at the back of her hand, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real, before gently withdrawing her hand from his to clasp both of hers in her lap. Tight, by the skin stretched taut across her knuckles.

  The silences between them before today had been comfortable. That was one of the things he liked about her, that she didn’t expect him to talk to fill the quiet. She let him be. But this bordered on awkward, and as he reached out to touch her arm in reassurance, she eyeballed him and blurted, “I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”

  Rory heard the words, but he didn’t compute them above the roar in his head. He’d never wanted kids. Stuttering could be hereditary, and no way in hell he’d risk passing on this bloody affliction to a child of his.

  Pregnant.

  With his kid.

  Fuck.

  “I know it’s a shock—”

  “Are you going to keep it?”

  She recoiled as if he’d slapped her, and he regretted speaking before engaging his brain. He didn’t mean it to sound so callous, but it was a legitimate question, considering she was carrying their child and it was ultimately her choice whether she wanted to or not.

  She nodded, her neck stiff, her lips thinned with disapproval. “I had fertility issues in the past. I didn’t think I could have a baby. And I’m thirty-fucking-seven, so yes, I’m keeping the baby.”

  He couldn’t recall hearing her swear before, so the fact she did now meant he’d seriously pissed her off. He didn’t know what she wanted from him. He would support her decision and offer whatever financial support he could, but he didn’t want a child. He couldn’t go through the heartbreak, and the accompanying guilt, if the one thing he passed on genetically was the one thing he loathed about himself.

  “Okay,” he said, sounding like it was anything but, and she wriggled back on the sofa, disappointment etched across her face.

  “I don’t expect anything from you.” She stood, her movements jerky, like she couldn’t quite coordinate her muscles to work in sync. “And I’m exhausted. So let yourself out, and we’ll talk more about it, if you want to, another time.”

  She stalked toward her bedroom, her back rigid. He should go after her. He should reassure her everything would be okay. He should say something to erase his stilted, unenthusiastic response a few moments ago.

  Instead, he sat there like a dummy, regretting a lot of things, most of them centered on a broken condom and the far-reaching consequences for them all.

  Thirty

  Since her divorce and fleeing Melbourne, Samira had been proud of her independence. She didn’t need anybody. She did everything on her own: building her physical therapy clinic from scratch, buying her apartment, dating if and when she felt inclined.

  But two hours after Rory left, she still lay on her bed, curled on her side with her legs drawn up, craving comfort. Pia would be the person she’d usually reach out to, but her cousin had left her in little doubt how she felt about this baby.

  Her mom would be the next obvious choice, but after dealing with Pia’s reaction and then Rory’s, she couldn’t face Kushi’s disapproval too. She needed to be in a stronger state emotionally when she told her mom the good news. And it was good news. Sensational, in fact, because once she’d got over the initial shock, she couldn’t help the elation filling her, expanding like her belly soon would.

  That was what nobody had understood about Avi’s betrayal. His cheating had been bad enough, but the thought of him having something she’d wanted so badly . . . it had gutted her.

  Maybe she’d already sensed his withdrawal from their marriage early on and she’d thought having a baby to love would soothe some of her loneliness. So when he told her the truth, she’d mourned for the baby they never had more than the loss of her marriage.

  Now, she’d have the baby she’d always wanted, without the encumbrances or expectations of a partner. Because Rory’s response to the news told her exactly how much of a part he wanted to play in their child’s life: absolutely none. He’d been stunned, understandably, but the first question that popped out of his mouth about whether she would keep the baby or not spoke volumes.

  He didn’t want to be a dad.

  And she didn’t need him to be.

  But she’d been disappointed, nonetheless. She’d hoped he’d hold her in his arms and tell her how excited he was. In fact, a small part of her had envisioned him being so swept up in her euphoria he’d try to convince her how they could make this work. Co-parents. A team. Pathetic, considering she’d given up on fairy tales around the time she realized her marriage didn’t live up to the Bollywood hype.

  Her cell buzzed with a text, and her heart leaped. Seeing either Pia’s or Rory’s name on the screen would cheer her up.

  However, when she glanced at the screen and saw “Manny,” her hope deflated. She speed-read his text.

  HAS YOUR MOM BACKED OFF?

  OR R U FALLING IN LINE WITH HER PLANS AND

  FALLING 4 MY CHARMS?

  For the first time all day, the corners of her mouth twitched into a semi-smile.

  She fired back: BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN U.

  She expected to see tiny moving dots on the screen to indicate he was responding, so when the cell rang, she jumped.

  When she answered, Manny said, “I thought talking would be easier than typing with my gammy thumbs.”

  “How can a doctor have gammy thumbs?”

  “Probably signing all those exorbitant paychecks before I cash them.”

  This time, her smile turned into a short laugh.

  “So what’s happening? What are these big problems?” He cleared his throat. “I hope I didn’t make things worse for you by showing up to lunch. Is your mom still hounding you to make an honest man out of me?”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  She couldn’t tell him, not before she’d told her mom. Then again, it could be good to get an impartial opinion from a person not emotionally invested in the outcome of her pregnancy.

  The crazy thing was, she’d never contemplate telling anyone so early into this pregnancy. She hadn’t had any tests yet, beyond a blood test to confirm it. Any number of things could go wrong between now and her first scan at twelve weeks, which was when most excited parents blabbed the happy news.

  But she’d been lying here for the last two hours wishing she could talk to someone about this, someone who would offer comfort rather than judgment.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said. “You know, despite all my teasing about falling for me, and the fact we haven’t known each other long, you can talk to me as a friend.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  A long silence, finally punctuated with a low whistle. “Congratulations.”

  He sounded like he meant it, warmth tempering the surprise in his voice.

  “You’re the first person that’s said that to me,” she said, and burst into tears.

  “Hell, are you okay?”

  She hiccupped in response and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on her bedside table to dab at her eyes. “Yeah, just a tad emotional.”

  “Want me to come over?”

  Yeah, she did, but it wouldn’t be fair to him. Because for all his jokes and banter about their friendship, she couldn’t forget that a small part of him must’ve been interested in her as prospective marriage material to agree to meet in the first place, and she didn’t want to take advantage of the tentative friendship they’d established.

  “Thanks
for the offer, but I’ll be okay. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?”

  “Actually, I don’t, but if you’re knocked up, I’m here for you.” He paused. “I assume that guy you’re seeing is the father?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  She swallowed down a sob that bubbled up again. “I already did.”

  “And?”

  “He’s not thrilled.”

  “Prick.”

  Surprised by the vehemence in his tone, she said, “I told my cousin Pia too, and she went ballistic.”

  “Why?”

  “Because her husband’s sterile and they’ve been struggling with infertility for years.”

  “Ah . . . that must be tough.”

  “It is, and I get it, but she’s my best friend, and I thought she’d be here for me . . .” Samira swiped at her eyes again. “She’ll come around, but that’s two important people in my life who didn’t react to the news as I hoped.”

  “What about your mom?”

  She sighed. “I haven’t told her yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m feeling a tad fragile and need to be in a stronger frame of mind to tell her.”

  “If it makes it any easier, I can marry you.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Thanks for the offer, but that’s not going to happen. I can do this on my own.”

  “I know you can.” He cleared his throat, and she sensed a shift in mood from teasing to serious. “Just thought I’d put it out there.”

  She assumed he meant it as a joke, but a small part of her knew there was more behind his offer. Chivalry? Something more? Whatever his rationale, she imagined what it would be like to have his support through the pregnancy and beyond. Being a single parent could be tough. Having someone to share the load with had its attraction. But she’d already entered a marriage with doubts once before; she couldn’t marry for the sake of a child when she could do a fine job of parenting on her own.

  “And what do you get out of this platonic marriage apart from raising some other guy’s kid?”