The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,81
his father gaped in openmouthed shock.
“When . . . I mean who . . . How . . .” Garth swiped a hand over his face and started again. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
Rory snorted. “Why would you? We never discuss our personal lives.” He snapped his fingers. “In fact, we don’t discuss much of anything, which leads me to ask, why didn’t you tell me Mom stuttered?”
Garth’s frown deepened. “Why is this relevant now?”
“Cut the crap, Dad. When you blew me off last time I was here, I went into the attic looking for my baby stuff, because I’m going to have a kid, and I found my records with Mom’s medical history.”
Garth fixed him with a steely stare before he pulled up the nearest chair and sat, pointing at the chair opposite.
“I didn’t blow you off. I asked you to wait for me.”
Rory barked out a harsh laugh. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you go with?”
To Rory’s surprise, his father appeared suitably ashamed. “I’m processing.”
Rory rolled his eyes. “I’ve got somewhere to be too, Dad. I landed the role as host for Australia’s next biggest reality show. I’m on set in Queensland for the next three weeks, and I’m leaving shortly.”
Garth’s eyebrows rose. “You’re full of surprises today.”
Rory hadn’t expected his father to congratulate him, but a small part of him still hoped that one day Garth would actually acknowledge his successes.
“What’s all this about you becoming a father?”
“The woman I’m seeing, Samira, is pregnant.”
A frown furrowed Garth’s brow. “Is this what you want?”
“Like how you didn’t want me, you mean?”
Garth’s gaze shifted away, and the old, familiar hurt of being unwanted tightened Rory’s chest.
“What makes you say that?”
Rory shook his head. “Where should I start, Dad? The fact you barely tolerated me when I was a kid. How you got this pained look on your face every time I had to talk to you. How your impatience made you finish every sentence I ever uttered. How you never spent time with me.” He held his hands out. “Should I continue?”
Pain contorted his father’s face before he finally raised his eyes to meet his. “I always wanted you,” he said. “But I harbored a lot of guilt, and it manifested in a way I couldn’t control.”
Confusion made Rory chuckle when it was the last thing he felt like doing. “You’re a control freak, so I’m pretty damn sure you could get a handle on this so-called guilt.”
If his dad wanted him to ask what he felt guilty for, he’d be waiting a long time. Rory didn’t want to hear his excuses. He wanted to learn more about his mother.
Folding his arms, Rory sat back and raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Finally, Garth gave a small nod, as if coming to a decision.
“Your mother had a minor stutter, hardly noticeable at all. But she was very self-conscious, and when my career started to take off, we had to attend a lot of legal functions. She made an effort, but she hated them because of her irrational fear of slipping up and making me look bad.”
Rory knew that fear of slipping up, and it sucked. He felt for his mom and wished she’d been around so he’d had someone who understood what he’d gone through growing up.
“I did everything to reassure her that she could never make me look bad, that I loved her wholeheartedly, but the more successful I became, the more she withdrew . . .”
Sorrow darkened his dad’s eyes. “We grew apart, and I had no idea how to fix it, so I focused on my work. She was busy with you, and we muddled along, until the day I came home after a major criminal case wrapped up to celebrate with her and she’d left. Left a note saying she didn’t want to hold me back any longer, I deserved someone I could proudly parade at functions, that she was failing as a mother because you were copying her speech and stuttering . . .”
Rory didn’t know what shocked him more, his dad opening up like this or the sheen of tears in his eyes.
“I was devastated initially, but then the anger set in. Even if she didn’t love me, how could she abandon you?” Gruffness deepened Garth’s tone, and he cleared his throat. “I couldn’t forgive her for that. I wanted to. I could’ve found her if I wanted to, but I let my anger consume me,