The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,10

lump in her throat. “I miss us.”

In reality, she missed everything. The occasional movie date with her folks, the family dinners where they’d end up having to order in because Lydia had tried some fancy recipe that always ended in disaster, the good-natured grilling about her poor choice in men. Being an only child, she’d always been close to her folks, and their insular family of three had made her feel loved in a way she’d never emulate again.

Pretty pathetic, being thirty and still lamenting the loss of her parents’ marriage, but they’d never know how deeply their separation had cut her.

Because if Lydia and Alec Ryland, who were perfect for each other, couldn’t make it after thirty-five years together, there was no hope for her.

8

It always amused Manny that his friend Samira, who’d spent over a decade living in glitzy LA, now resided in suburban, cosmopolitan Dandenong.

Melbourne had some high-end suburbs—Toorak, South Yarra, Malvern, Armadale—and considering the combined salaries of a physical therapist and TV reality show host, Samira and her husband, Rory, could’ve chosen to live pretty much anywhere. Instead, they resided in this modest, modern town house a few streets back from the cultural hub of Dandenong, where people of many nations mingled amidst the shops and marketplace. Considering their place was only one main road away from Kushi, Samira’s mother, he figured regular free child-minding for their son, Ron, was part of the attraction.

He hadn’t seen the happy couple for two months, discounting Nishi and Arun’s wedding. Then again, he hadn’t really been focused on his friends at that function, what with his hands—and face—full of a feisty food stylist and cream, respectively.

He hadn’t crossed paths with Harper after he’d spied her looking so forlorn at the back of the hall, and he wanted to apologize again, this time saying it with flowers or chocolates. After a little reconnaissance via the Indian aunties, who knew everything about everyone, he garnered that while Harper was Nishi’s best friend, she also knew Pia and Samira well. He would’ve asked Arun, but the bozo was on his honeymoon with his new wife, hence his impromptu visit to another happy couple.

He knocked on the door and it opened a moment later, revealing a disheveled Rory holding a finger to his lips on the other side.

“Hey, mate, come in, but keep it quiet. Ronnie’s only just gone down for a nap, finally.” Rory rolled his eyes and dragged a hand through his messy hair. “Sleepless night with young Ronald and I’m knackered.”

“You look it,” Manny said, stepping inside and slapping Rory on the back. “Fatherhood suits you, mate. You look like you could do with a shave, a haircut, and a two-week nap.”

“You look like shit too but please, come in anyway.”

They chuckled softly, and after closing the door, Manny followed Rory toward the back of the house, where the family spent most of their time in a sun-filled rumpus room littered with baby paraphernalia, everything from early learning books to brightly colored blocks.

“Can I get you a beer?”

Manny shook his head. “I’m on call later, but you go ahead.”

“Nah, beer will really send me to sleep.” While Rory’s eyes did indeed appear blurry from sleep deprivation, Manny knew the exact second Samira entered the room, because her husband’s eyes lit up.

Manny turned to see Samira looking just as weary as Rory but sporting a glow best worn by a woman besotted with her man.

“Hey, Manny, good to see you.” She crossed the room and gave him a quick hug, before making a beeline for Rory and kissing him full on the mouth.

“Man, you two make me sick with all this mushy, gushy stuff.”

“You’re just jealous I chose this magnificent specimen of manhood over Dr. Dickhead,” Samira deadpanned, and the three of them burst out laughing.

When they’d first met, Samira’s matchmaking Indian mother had been determined to see her only child marry an Indian man, though an Anglo-Indian doctor would suffice. And while Manny never had a genuine spark with the lovely physical therapist, Samira and Rory were a fiery conflagration ready to set alight. Samira had lied to Rory about marrying him according to her mother’s wishes to drive the poor schmuck away deliberately, hence Rory’s jealousy and nickname for him, which the happy couple had let slip one night when the three of them were hanging out at a local Indian vegetarian restaurant.

“I can’t help it if you have exceedingly poor taste in men,” Manny said, with an offhand