The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,92
arm. “Thank you.”
“And you are a sweet boy,” Kushi said, clearing her throat. “Rory, let me take you around, but first I want to have a quick word with Samira. Why don’t you refill your plate and meet us back here?”
Rory shot her a glance like he’d done something wrong, and Samira gave an approving nod. After he’d stepped back into the kitchen, her mom pulled her close.
“Samira, I will be honest. I was prepared to dislike this Australian man who has fathered your child out of wedlock. I intended to make life difficult for him here tonight.” She glanced away, shamefaced. “But I was wrong. He is a lovely young man. He has manners and he is respectful and I see the way he looks at you . . .”
When Kushi met her gaze again, there were tears in her mom’s eyes. “I still think Manish would make a good husband for you, but if this Rory makes you happy, I will try to support you as best I can.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Not a stamp of approval, exactly, but enough of an admission that Kushi would let up on the matrimonial machinations—hopefully.
However, as Samira accompanied Rory while her mom performed introductions to the aunties and a plethora of hangers-on who’d obviously come out of curiosity, the hour dragged. She didn’t blame Rory for becoming increasingly quiet, considering he’d fielded questions from “Are you related to Chris Hemsworth, because you look alike?” to “You’re very young. Do you know how old Samira is?”
Rory seemed amused by it all. Hell, if this was painful, what would they say when she announced her pregnancy? It wouldn’t be long now. She’d worn a loose dress tonight to hide her small baby bump. She’d considered passing it off as a rice belly, but she knew astute eyes would put two and two together and come up with ten. Wild assumptions were a daily ritual with the aunties.
They’d made the rounds of the garden when they came to Sushma, Samira’s least-liked auntie. Shrewd and calculating, she’d been one of the ringleaders in her lynch mob back in the day when she’d left Avi. And their first meeting again months ago hadn’t endeared her to the annoying woman.
“Auntie, I’d like you to meet Rory,” Samira said, forcing a smile.
Sushma’s beady eyes glittered, shrewd and appraising, as she looked Rory up and down. “Hello, Rory. You seem awfully young for our Samira. Let’s hope she won’t tire of you.” Her exaggerated wink held more spite than amusement. “She’s been around the block a time or two already, you know. Married and divorced. And barren, so if you’re wanting children—”
“That’s where you’re wrong—”
“Rory, it’s okay.” The last thing she wanted was for him to blab her pregnancy now. She didn’t want his introduction to be hijacked. This crowd was tough; one shock at a time. “Auntie, Rory and I have no secrets between us. We’re happy, and it would be nice if others could be happy for us too.”
Sushma’s eyes narrowed at the direct jibe. “Your mother had a mixed marriage, and look how that turned out.”
Anger wasn’t good for the baby, but Samira couldn’t help the wave of rage that washed over her. How dare this cow belittle what her parents had shared? And worse, ostracize her mother for so many years because of it.
“My father died after many happy years with my mother. Aren’t you a widow too, Auntie? Your husband may have been Indian, but he died just the same.”
Samira had been taught from a young age to never talk back to the aunties. Respect first and foremost. But Sushma had gone too far, and she couldn’t help but retaliate.
“Living in America has made you rude.” Sushma tut-tutted, waggling her finger. “Maybe if you had an Indian husband you would learn some manners—”
“I think your mom’s calling us,” Rory said, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing. His touch instantly infused her with a calm she desperately needed.
“Excuse us,” Rory said, with a brief nod to Sushma, before guiding Samira toward the back door leading to the kitchen.
“That vile cow—”
“Hey, don’t let her get to you.” He opened the door and guided her into a thankfully empty kitchen.
“They’re all so bloody judgmental,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s one of the reasons I fled Melbourne after my divorce. I couldn’t get away fast enough.”
He hesitated before saying, “Now that you’re moving back, won’t you cop the same shit again, especially when they discover you’re pregnant?”
She jabbed at