The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,105
homecoming, and her stomach rumbled appreciatively at the tempting aromas of spicy meat and rice laden with turmeric as she passed through the kitchen. But she would eat later. She had to talk to Rory. Now.
She found him in the backyard, standing by the curry leaf tree. He wore a pensive expression, but his eyes were clear and showed nothing like the perpetual worry that had clouded their aquamarine brilliance the last month and a half.
“Hey,” she said.
He turned toward her, and his lopsided grin made her heart flip-flop the way it had the first time he’d come to her rescue in that bar. “Is he settled?”
“Sleeping like a baby.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you the least bit terrified of what’s going to happen when he’s not sleeping and he’s yelling the house down?”
“Absolutely petrified, but that’s why I’ve moved back with Mom. She raised me, and look how I turned out.”
“Good point.” He hesitated. “While I think it’s a great idea you’re living here at the moment, I want to start looking for a place. F-for us.”
His nervousness made her heart melt. He didn’t need to be. She knew what he was saying, and she welcomed the suggestion. Now she had to tell him.
“I think us living together for Ronnie’s sake is great, so that’s a good idea.”
His eyebrows rose. “You think this is all about Ronnie?”
“Isn’t it?”
“For fuck’s sake, Sam.” He dragged a hand over his face. “I know you’re not marrying Manish. He told me. And I think it’s time you tell me what the hell is going on and why you told such a p-preposterous lie.”
She sighed and nodded. “You don’t have to be nervous—”
“I’m not nervous!” he yelled, before appearing shamefaced. “I’ve got a stutter. Had it since I was a kid. Really bad back then, but through endless speech therapy and the acting stuff, I can control it most of the time.”
Shock rendered her mute. Damn it, she’d worked with health professionals, including speech pathologists, for years. Her interest in dialect coaching had stemmed from Pia’s proficiency in speech therapy. She may not be an expert, but she should’ve figured it out.
“It can be inherited,” he said, sounding tortured. “That’s why I freaked out when you first told me about the pregnancy. I never wanted kids because I didn’t want to risk passing it on, because I hated how fucking insecure and inadequate it made me feel growing up.”
His expression softened. “But then Ronnie was born, and nothing else mattered but him growing to be a strong, healthy, happy kid.” He shrugged, adorably bashful. “I love him. And I love you. More than I could’ve ever thought possible.”
That shock rendering her speechless wasn’t easing up anytime soon. He loved her. This incredibly strong, supportive man loved her. And she’d done nothing to show him she felt the same way.
Stepping forward, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him.
A gentle, soul-searching kiss of affirmation and hope, of promise and future. A future for the two of them and their beautiful baby boy.
When she eased away and lowered her hands, she glimpsed wonder in his eyes.
“I love you, too. That’s why I told that monstrous lie about marrying Manny, because I didn’t want you to give up your dream of hosting your first major TV show for me.”
“But it was never all important to me—”
“Shh. Let me finish.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I thought if you chose me over your career, you’d end up resenting me for it, or worse, resenting the baby, so I couldn’t take that chance. Besides, I’ve been independent for a long time and didn’t think I needed you to help me raise our child.”
“And now?”
“Now I know what I want, and that’s you.” She blinked away the sting of tears. “You and me in this for the long haul, raising our amazing son together.”
Her strong, silent type didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He opened his arms, and she stepped into them, peace enveloping her as he tightened his grip on her. She rested her cheek against his chest, comforted by the solid pounding of his heart, and slid her arms around his waist.
They clung to each other, the heat of his body, the hardness of it, reminding her to ask at her first ob-gyn visit when she could resume relations post-birth.
“Rory?”
“Hmm?”
“The aunties were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Dating a younger man would lead me down a wicked path.” She leaned back to meet his eyes and winked.