The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,91
at the end of the hallway, silhouetted by the kitchen light. She wore a festive emerald green sari shot through with gold silk, an old favorite Samira knew she only wore on special occasions; like meeting prospective sons-in-law, if she had her way.
Samira sighed. “Come meet my mom. And remember, ignore any talk of our wedding, which she would’ve already planned to the nth degree in her head.”
Rory laughed. “Got it.”
When they reached the end of the corridor, Samira said, “Mom, this is Rory.”
“P-pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Broderick.” He held out the gerberas, and Samira watched for her mom’s tell of disapproval: a tiny pulse beating at the base of her ear.
But there was nothing but a reserved smile from Kushi as she accepted the flowers. “Thank you. These are beautiful. Now, don’t be nervous, young man, come and meet everyone.”
A blush stained Rory’s cheeks. Samira had picked up on the slight nervous stutter too, and she found it endearing. She knew Kushi could be lulling him into a false sense of security, but her mom had eased up on the Manish talk the last few weeks and seemed resigned to accepting her baby’s father. Only time would tell if the rest of the aunties were as accommodating.
“Are you hungry, Rory?” Kushi laid the gerberas on the kitchen bench before gesturing at the table in the corner, laden with pakoras and vada.
Samira knew this was a test. If Rory didn’t consume his body weight in spicy snacks and ghee-laden sweets, Kushi would hate him forever. Samira had warned him about the Indian propensity to force-feed their guests, and to her relief, he shot her a wink before smiling at Kushi.
“I’m ravenous, and your cooking smells divine.”
Kushi gave a nod of approval. “Help yourself while I put these flowers in water.”
“Take three of everything,” Samira murmured under her breath, and he grinned.
“I love tasty Indian morsels,” he said softly, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “But I thought you already knew that, considering how I feasted on you last night . . .”
Heat surged to Samira’s cheeks, and she elbowed him away, but not before her mom had witnessed their exchange. To her surprise, Kushi looked at them with benign acceptance rather than disapproval as she filled a vase from the kitchen tap, unwrapped the flowers, and placed them in the water.
“These are my favorite flowers, young man, so what else did my daughter tell you about me?”
“She said you’re an excellent cook, a wonderful mother, and a big fan of Bollywood movies.” He gave Samira the plate he’d piled with snacks, before helping himself to another; a huge tick in Kushi’s eyes by the approving glint. “Did she tell you I’m in the TV industry?”
Kushi nodded and bustled over to them. “Yes, I’d be very interested to hear all the behind-the-scenes gossip.”
And to Samira’s shock, Kushi threaded her arm through Rory’s elbow and led him to the door. “But we can talk later. For now, let me introduce you to everyone and then you can eat.”
Samira gaped as she followed them, bracing for the wave of noise to hit as Kushi opened the back door leading to the garden.
But as the three of them stepped out, the chatter and laughter stopped, as about thirty pairs of curious eyes fixed on Rory. Thankfully, the music filled what would’ve otherwise been an awkward silence, and she fixed a smile on her face.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Rory. My boyfriend,” she added, not that there’d be any doubt. She’d only ever brought one guy to a gathering like this in her childhood home, and she’d ended up marrying him.
A chorus of hellos rang out before the cacophony of voices rose again, and she could’ve sworn Kushi breathed as loud a sigh of relief as she did.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Rory said.
“The night is young.” Samira elbowed him, and Kushi nudged her away from his other side.
“Leave him be, Samira. He has to meet everyone at some stage, and no time like the present.” Kushi pointed to his plate. “But first, you eat.”
“Because once the aunties start their interrogation, you won’t have a chance to.”
Rory picked up a pakora and bit into it, his eyes widening with pleasure. “These are amazing.”
Kushi flushed. “Try the vada. They’re my specialty.”
He obliged, and this time a little groan escaped his lips. Overkill, Samira thought, but then again at the rate he demolished it, he wasn’t faking.
“You are an amazing cook.” Rory touched her mom’s