The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,89
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.