The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,59

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 heart, 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