by Nicola Marsh
“We’ve discussed this, and I’m not going down the traditional route again.”
Though a small part of her knew her mom was right. Love had grown with Avi once she’d opened herself up to the possibility.
And look how that had turned out.
But Manish wasn’t like Avi, and while he may have offered to marry her in jest, and she wondered at his motivation for doing so, she allowed herself to daydream for a moment what it would be like to be married to him.
Culturally, she’d be accepted back into the fold of the extended Indian community. She wouldn’t be judged or gossiped about, which was exactly what would happen when they discovered she was pregnant. Her child would grow up with a stable, respectable father figure. She would have help and support and many laughs.
But her baby already had a father, and she didn’t love Manish. Which meant she had to introduce Rory into her mom’s network to soften the blow of her pregnancy news and let the aunties do their worst.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Rory.”
Kushi rolled her eyes again. “This Ro-ry. Where was he last night when you needed him, huh?” She threw her arms wide. “Not here. What kind of father will he make? What kind of partner to you if he can’t be here when you need him the most?”
Samira glimpsed fear in her mom’s eyes, and she knew her concern came from the right place. But she wouldn’t let her malign Rory, not when he didn’t deserve it.
“He’s away for work, Mom, in far north Queensland, so please don’t cast aspersions on him when you don’t know him.”
Affronted, Kushi tilted her nose in the air. “Fine, you tell me when he’s back and I will arrange a party.”
That’s what Samira had been afraid of, but there was no easy way to do this: Rory would be thrown into the deep end of endless speculation because of his age and nationality, and once the aunties learned of her pregnancy, he’d be scrutinized even more.
Besides, she wanted to see how he handled himself with her extended family network, because with her moving back to Melbourne, she’d be reabsorbed into her culture whether she liked it or not.
“Thanks, Mom, but keep it low-key, okay?”
“Of course,” Kushi said, nodding, but Samira didn’t trust the calculated gleam in her mom’s eyes, not one bit.
Forty
Rory wasn’t a fan of flying, but he’d never been so glad to see the small Cessna at the end of the makeshift runway not far from the set.
The plane had made countless trips, flying in crew and supplies over the last eight weeks, getting everything prepared for filming. But today, it would be flying him to Brisbane, where he’d catch a commercial flight back to Melbourne.
Back to Samira.
He didn’t like the distance between them, and he wasn’t just referring to the physical. He’d always preferred texting over talking via the phone. His thumbs could articulate words a lot faster and clearer than his mouth. But he’d wanted to hear her voice, so he’d rung a few times, had videoconferenced once, but each time she’d sounded . . . aloof. Withdrawn.
She said all the right things and forced a laugh or two at his anecdotes about living in the bush with a bunch of strangers, but in his gut, he knew something was wrong. He’d wondered if the baby was okay, but she’d assured him everything was fine. He didn’t believe her, and he hoped she wasn’t hiding some devastating truth from him because of the distance between them.
He’d missed the twelve-week scan, but she’d sent him a pic to his cell. It had been a godsend, keeping him sane at the end of a long day when the effort of trying not to stutter had taken its toll, leaving him exhausted and grumpy. He’d lie on his makeshift cot, staring at that pic of his kid, knowing he had to do right by him or her.
The fear hadn’t left him that his kid could face the same difficulties he had growing up if he passed on his stutter, but he had to stop letting it taint the way he viewed this pregnancy. He should be celebrating it with Samira, not dreading something that may never eventuate.
“Safe travels, Rory.” Sherman Rix, one of the directors who he’d auditioned for, clapped him on the back. “You’ve done well acclimatizing the last eight weeks, exactly why Allan and I chose you for this job.”
He managed a sedate “Thanks,” as this man intimidated him as much today as he did at the audition over two months ago. While he’d done his best to fit in on the set, he knew most of the crew viewed him as a recluse who preferred his own company than hanging around a campfire at night chugging beers and swapping bullshit. It didn’t bother him, because the less time he spent talking to people beyond the scope of reading off a cue, the easier it would be not to slip up.
But the tension had taken its toll, and he couldn’t wait to escape to his grungy Middle Park flat, no matter how tiny or ill-equipped. As well as seeing Samira, he was looking forward to dropping by the rec hall at the housing commission flats and seeing Amelia’s program in action. His first payment had gone into his bank account two weeks ago, and he’d forwarded the lot to her, keen to get the program started sooner rather than later. She’d responded by sending him pics of the hall with kids at tables around the room, working with therapists. It had warmed his heart and vindicated the sixteen-hour days he was pulling to ensure he did a great job as host of Renegades.
“See you back in Melbourne.” Sherman held out his hand, and Rory shook it. “Take a break. Rest up. Because we start shooting in a month, and we need you on top of your game.”
“No worries, I’ll be ready.” He gave a brusque nod, hiked his duffel over his shoulder, and headed for the plane.
Once ensconced in a small seat, he stared out at the barren landscape, admiring its rugged, red-dusted beauty but glad to see the back of it for now.
* * *
* * *
Eight hours later, after dumping his stuff in the wash at home and showering, he headed for Samira’s. The security guard still gave him the side-eye as he stood outside her door, but he didn’t care. In a moment, he’d be seeing the woman he’d fallen for, and he could hardly wait.
His heart pounded and his palms grew clammy. Crazy, considering they’d moved past the early dating stage, but his nerves had everything to do with seeing her again and hoping their connection hadn’t waned.
The door opened, and he released the breath he’d been holding. She smiled at him, wide and genuine, before gesturing him in.
“Hey there, cowboy, long time no see.” She nodded at the guard. “Thanks, Ru.”
He waited until the door closed before sweeping her into his arms and seeking her mouth.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, a second before claiming her lips in a searing kiss that proved actions spoke louder than any corny words he could say.
She clung to him, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, taunting, teasing, driving him crazy with want. Lust slammed through him. His hands skimmed her curves, plucking at her dress, craving more.
But they had to talk. He wanted to make sure everything was okay with her and the baby. “I brought you something.”
She pressed her hips against his and winked. “I bet you did.”
He laughed. “Nice to know those pregnancy hormones are still running riot, but I want to give you this.”
He slid the smallish flat box from his back pocket and held it out to her. “I thought this might be a nice way to celebrate our impending p-parenthood.”
Thankfully, she didn’t notice his slipup, with her eyes focused on the blue velvet box balancing on his palm.
“You’re sweet.” She took the box and opened it, her soft sigh and curve of her lips indicating he’d done well. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, slipping the silver charm bracelet out of the box and handing it to him. “Help me put it on?”
As he fiddled with the clasp, she stared at him with so much warmth his chest tightened with emotion. If he could
, he’d give this woman the world. She’d breezed into his life and turned it upside down when he least expected it, and while the thought of being a father still scared the crap out of him, he felt like he could do anything with her by his side.
“There.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “The first charm is a pacifier, and I thought I could add a new one for the baby’s milestones, like first tooth, first step, that kind of thing.”
“You’re too much,” she said, tears shimmering in her eyes, before she buried her face against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.
He cradled her close, breathing in the fragrance of her, the faintest scent of cinnamon and cloves she used to make masala chai and a deeper, more alluring scent of her, all her.
He’d never been in love and had feared for a long time he wasn’t capable of it. It wasn’t like he knew much about it, considering his upbringing. But he’d done a lot of thinking while he’d been away and had a sneaking suspicion that with thoughts of Samira consuming his every waking moment, and this feeling of completeness now he had her in his arms again, he was in danger of falling headlong into an emotion he knew little about.
His arms tightened around her, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. He had no idea how long they stood there, locked in an embrace that helped eradicate every painful moment of being apart, but when his eyes stung, he knew he had to aim for levity before he started sniffling too.
“Will it push you over the edge and really make you bawl if I tell you I’ve been reading a digital book on pregnancy while I’ve been away and can practically deliver our baby myself?”
She chuckled against his chest before easing away and whacking him playfully. “You can tell me all about your newfound knowledge over dinner, but first . . .”
He saw the exact moment the tenderness in her eyes gave way to desire, as if she too needed a distraction before blurting her innermost feelings.
With a coy smile, she grabbed his shoulders and guided him to the nearest chair, pushed him down on it, and clambered on top of him.
When he opened his mouth, she pressed a finger to it, silencing him, before unzipping him and taking his rigid cock in her hand and guiding it toward her.
Only then did he realize: she was going commando.
She slid onto him, lush, wet heat, and he groaned. He’d missed her, missed this, this intimacy that he’d never experienced with anyone but her.
Blood thundered in his ears as she rode him, bracing her hands on his shoulders, clenching his cock with her inner muscles, driving him to the brink all too quickly.
But he didn’t hold back. She didn’t want him to if her muttered urgings were any indication, and when his balls tensed and he surged upward, she thrust down at the same time, her neck arched, her head thrown back in wild abandon, crying out his name.
He came in a blinding rush that made his head ache, but as the pleasure subsided and he held her close, he knew without a doubt he’d come home.
Forty-One
That was some homecoming,” Rory said, handing Samira a cup of peppermint tea. “Makes me wonder what kind of welcome I’ll get when I’m away for over three months with the actual filming.”
She smiled her thanks, but he saw the disappointment in her eyes. “That long?”
“Yeah, it’s a killer schedule, but once it’s done I’ll be back for good.” He sat next to her on the sofa and placed her feet in his lap. “And I’ll definitely be back for the birth.”
“Uh-huh.”
She didn’t say anything else, preferring to sip her tea rather than elaborate. But he could sense her disapproval, and it made him bristle.
“You knew I’d be away for most of this pregnancy when I got the Renegades job. And as much as I don’t like it, it’s something I have to do.”
“I get it, I do, it’s just . . .” She trailed off, an odd mix of guilt and regret clouding her gaze. “I had a scare not long after you left. Cramping and spotting, so I went to the hospital.”
He stiffened, his blood chilling in his veins. “You almost miscarried?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “It was terrifying. I had my mom with me, and she was great, but it really rammed home how much I can’t do this alone, so I’m moving back to Melbourne for good.”
Annoyance tempered his elation. She should’ve told him about the hospitalization; he should’ve been here for her. But to hear she’d be in Melbourne permanently offset his anger. They could have a real relationship, and he could be a dad to his kid.
“I’m not happy that you didn’t tell me about the scare, but I’m rapt you’re moving home,” he said, picking up one of her feet and massaging it.
“So am I if you do that every night.”
“Count on it,” he said, pressing his thumbs into the sole, eliciting a low moan that turned his thoughts naughty in an instant.
“With me moving home, it also got me thinking it’s time you met my mom and her cronies.”
“Of course,” he said, thrilled she wanted to move their relationship forward. “Anytime.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” she said with a grimace. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“How bad can it be?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? My mom is still bound up in tradition so would love to see me married to Manish before the baby is born, and the aunties, a bunch of scary women who pass judgment on every Indian living within a thirty-mile radius of Dandenong, are even more traditional than her.” She shuddered. “They’ll eat you alive.”
He laughed and kneaded her other foot. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
He reached out and laid a hand on her belly. “And I intend on taking care of you and the little one too.”
Her expression softened as her hand covered his. “A small part of me hated that your three weeks away was extended to eight, and I wondered if that long apart would dim my infatuation for you, but I have to admit I’m still smitten.”
“Smitten kitten, how cute.” He picked up her foot and gently raised her leg so he could press a kiss to the inside of her ankle. “And I intend on making you purr all night.”
“You did not just say that,” she said with a chuckle. “A guy intent on charming the aunties should leave the lame puns alone.”
He lowered her foot before clutching at his chest. “You think I’m lame?”
Her gaze softened. “I think you’re spectacular.”
“That’s better,” he said. “Now let me show you exactly how spectacular I am . . .”
Forty-Two
Are you sure you want to do this?”
Pia snagged Samira’s arm before they entered Kushi’s house.
“He has to meet everybody sometime,” Samira said, with a diffident shrug, when in fact a hothouse of butterflies was slam dancing against her rib cage. She’d liked having Rory to herself for the last three weeks since he’d returned, but the time had come for him to meet the jury; the aunties would definitely judge and announce a verdict.
“Yeah, but he should’ve met your mom first, not the whole crazy crew at once.”
“Throwing him in the deep end is better,” Samira said, glancing over Pia’s shoulder to the car where Rory was getting a giant bouquet of gerberas, her mom’s favorite flower, out of the trunk. “Sink or swim.”
“For your sake, I hope he’s good at freestyle,” Pia said, casting a concerned glance his way. “He’s a great guy, but you know they’re a tough crowd.”
“Yeah, I know.” Samira sighed, hoping she had enough false bravado for the both of them. Rory had been exceptionally quiet on the drive over, his folded arms and rigid posture telling her exactly how nervous he was.
“Speaking of tough crowds, does anyone know about you and Dev?”
Pia shushed her, casting
a frantic glance around. “No, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Samira touched her arm. “Cuz, you’ve been separated for three weeks now. Word is going to get around.”
“I’m handling it.” Pia gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching as she jerked her thumb toward Rory, who was approaching them with the bouquet. “Besides, one crisis at a time, and right now, this guy doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.”
Since Pia had returned to work after the aborted week away with Dev at the alternative-therapies fertility getaway, she hadn’t wanted to talk about her marriage. Samira had stumbled on the truth—that her cousin had actually separated from Dev—by pure chance when she’d tried calling her house recently and Dev had answered, saying he’d leave Pia a message and was sorry they hadn’t seen each other but it was easier this way, with the two of them separated.
Samira had been shocked and called Pia on her cell straightaway. But Pia had been screening calls, and when they saw each other at work the next day, Pia had been brusque, all business. She’d confirmed the separation, saying it had been her way of jolting Dev into seeking professional help, but she didn’t want to talk about it.
Samira had respected her wishes, but it had been a long twenty-one days, and she intended on broaching the subject again at a better time.
“Ladies, ready to go in?”
“Are you?” Pia gave an exaggerated shudder before winking at Rory. “Because seriously, you have no idea what you’re up against in there.”
“I can handle it,” he said, but Samira heard an edge beneath his defiance. “Lead the way.”
“Don’t let them railroad you.” Samira squeezed his arm. “I’ve been facing this crowd since birth, and they still terrify me.”
“Not helping,” he muttered, shooting her an affectionate glance. “Besides, I charmed you easily enough, didn’t I? The rest of them should be putty in my hands.”
If only it were that easy. Not that anyone would be overtly rude, but she’d been privy to the sniggers and innuendos and gossip in the past, and she knew this time wouldn’t be any easier.
