The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,66
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?”
He chuckled at her sarcasm. “I don’t want kids, never have, so this takes the pressure off with my gran. As for the platonic bit, we can work on that.”
She smiled. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“No, I’m being a good friend.” He hesitated. “Seriously, Samira, I’m here for you. And while I’m confident you’ll work everything out, know that you can off-load to me whenever.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, touched by his support. “Means a lot.”
“Okay, I’ve got to go pick out wallpaper for the nursery and book Lamaze classes.”
She laughed as he’d intended, and it struck her how much lighter she felt by telling him everything.
“And don’t forget, you still owe me that lunch I didn’t get when I left you and Kushi to sort things out.”
“I’ll be in touch, okay? Because if Mom didn’t like the news about Rory, I have a feeling that learning she’s going to be a grandma may require a lot more ‘sorting out.’”
He chuckled. “Good luck. And take care.”
“Thanks, you too.”
She disconnected and placed the cell back on the bedside table. She would never enter another marriage not based on true love, but for a scant second, when she envisioned doing all this on her own versus having a supportive guy like Manny by her side, she’d been tempted.
Thirty-One
Fatherhood.
How could Rory contemplate being a dad when he didn’t know how?
Garth had been a lousy role model. All he’d learned from his father was how to be a harsh disciplinarian, not spend much time with your kid, and throw money at the problem. Way to go, Dad.
Not that Rory didn’t like kids. He did. After all, wasn’t he putting himself out there in the most terrifying way possible by hosting Renegades to help kids?
He liked hanging out with them at the housing commission flats. Kids had an inherent honesty, a bluntness he appreciated. He could relate because he had a low tolerance for bullshit. But spending time with other people’s kids and raising one of his own were worlds apart.
He’d been reeling when he left Samira’s apartment last night to the extent he hadn’t realized until an hour later he may not even be around for his kid. Samira would head back to LA at the end of her six-month stint at Pia’s health center, taking his child with her. It was in that moment of realization he felt something akin to regret.
He may not want to father a child for fear of passing on his speech impediment, but now it had happened, being a dad could grow on him.
Considering the way he’d handled the news, he wouldn’t blame Samira for not wanting him anywhere near their child. He’d been an idiot, his insecurities manifesting at the worst possible time. She didn’t know about his stutter or his fears of passing it on to a child, so she’d see him as a douche rather than a guy dealing with a bone-deep fear of giving his kid an impediment that dogged him to this day and he wouldn’t wish on anybody.
He should tell her the truth. But would it be fair, giving her one more thing to worry about? Their kid could be fine and speak fluently, so why burden her with his fears?
Once he got this obligatory visit with his dad out of the way, he’d call her. He needed to apologize and show his support.
As he trudged up the path, glancing at the well-kept garden, the trimmed hedges, the blossoming flowers, he had the same dread in his gut as every time he’d dragged his feet up this path after school each day.
His father’s mansion may appear immaculate on the outside, but it was all for show and, just like his dad, cold on the inside. He’d known kids at his snobby private school deigned to acknowledge his existence only because Garth Radcliffe was a highly regarded barrister in Melbourne and they knew he lived in an elite part of Brighton.
Though it didn’t stop them teasing him mercilessly, mocking his speech, even though he’d mastered a lot of techniques to control his stutter by the time he finished high school. The only place he’d shone was onstage, encouraged into acting by Amelia as a way to master