If Rory’s first eight weeks in the outback had dragged, it had nothing on the next sixteen. Four long months where he spent endless days in front of the camera, reading off cues, trying to appear enthusiastic about a bunch of wannabe models and B-grade celebrities following clues toward the ultimate prize.
Not that the Renegades concept was bad; it wasn’t. It was his attitude that stank. Faking it all day every day for the cameras was tough, so when he reached the confines of his tent at night, he dropped the pretense and crawled into bed with his cell for company.
He’d grown damn attached to the thing, considering it was the only way he stayed connected to his kid. Samira sent him regular updates, texts with test results or growth charts. He liked the one comparing his kid to various fruit and his or her corresponding size. From pea to lemon to avocado and beyond. It made him smile, when little did these days.
He hated how hope blossomed every time his cell pinged with a message from Samira. What did he expect, that she’d say, Surprise, I’ve changed my mind, I want you, I love you, come back?
Thankfully, the updates were only about the baby, and she didn’t mention anything to do with her. Then again, he could imagine exactly what she was up to, in excruciating detail: she’d be planning a wedding, something low-key, being embraced by one big, happy Indian family, while his child grew in her belly. Wrong on so many levels. Not the part about her being surrounded by a support network that would care for her, but the marriage part to M.D. Manish. What made the guy better than him? A few degrees on a wall and a plethora of initials after his name?
Though that was petty. Samira wasn’t impressed by that kind of stuff. She’d made it more than clear how into him she’d been, even when he was nothing more than a stuntman.
No, his own insecurities blamed Manish and fate and whatever else he could come up with for ruining the best thing to ever happen to him. Though that was the kicker; he didn’t really know what he’d done wrong. One minute she’d introduced him to her mom and the aunties; the next she’d told him she’d be marrying Manish.
He hadn’t seen any spark between them at her mom’s house. He’d looked for it too, especially when Manish mentioned being there for her during the miscarriage scare. But there’d been nothing more than friendship between them, and Rory could almost like the guy given half a chance. Manish had a sense of humor, and in any other circumstance Rory could see the two of them sharing a beer and a laugh. Ironic, considering that may well happen if Samira married the guy and he’d be forced to see him every time he went to pick up his kid during access visits.
The thought made him grab his cell. He needed to get grounded, fast, and seeing a pic of his kid would do that better than anything. His favorite picture was the snapshot of the five-month scan, where he could actually see the baby’s fingers raised toward its mouth. It looked like a wave, and he loved tracing the outline of his child, wondering what he or she would look like. They didn’t know the sex; they wanted a surprise. But he could imagine a gorgeous little girl with hazel eyes like her mom or a cheeky boy with her smile.
“Hey, Radcliffe, you in there?”
“Yeah,” he called out, sitting up in bed and shoving his cell back in his pocket as Sherman Rix stuck his head through the tent opening. “There’s a call for you.”
Fear gripped him. The few people he knew would call him on his cell, which meant this call came from official channels.
“Do you know who it is?”
Sherman hesitated before saying, “Some hospital in Melbourne. I didn’t catch the name.”
Fear morphed into full-blown panic as Rory scrambled off the bed and ducked through the flap, breaking into a run toward the main truck that housed the cameras, IT equipment, and satellite phones.
If something had happened to Samira or the baby and he was stuck all the way out here, he’d never forgive himself. He shouldn’t have listened to her. He should’ve fought for her. What a dickhead.
As he bounded up the steps into the truck, he sent a silent prayer heavenward for the safety of a baby he never knew he wanted so badly until faced with the threat of losing him or her.
Snatching up the satellite phone, he willed himself to calm the hell down so he could formulate the words needed to ascertain exactly how serious this was.
“Rory Radcliffe speaking,” he said, clenching the phone so tight it made an odd crackling sound.
“Hi, Son.”
Relief filtered through him, and his muscles relaxed, but only momentarily, as he realized his dad was calling him from a hospital.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“Uh, yes. I had a minor stroke, but I’m okay.”
Shock rendered him speechless for a moment. “You sure? What happened? How long will you be in hospital for?”
He might not have been close to his father growing up, but he hated the thought of him lying helpless in a hospital bed.
“I had a little turn at work. Couldn’t make sense of the documents I was reading, and my PA said my mouth was drooping on one side, so she overreacted and called an ambulance. I got here this morning. They’ve run tests, said it’s very minor, no major damage. I’m on blood thinners for potential clots, but I should be home over the next few days.”
His dad wasn’t telling him everything. If the stroke was so minor, why would they keep him in hospital?
“I’m actually wrapping up filming tomorrow, Dad, then I’ll be on the first flight home. Is that okay?”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you, Son.”
Rory clutched the phone to his ear. He’d never heard the great Garth Radcliffe sound so uncertain. While it would take them a long time to repair the yawning gap in their relationship, his father wouldn’t have called unless he was feeling particularly vulnerable. Rory wouldn’t wish him ill, but this could be a turning point for them, a way to start making inroads toward some kind of bond.
“Take care, Dad, and call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” Garth said, sounding particularly gruff, before hanging up.
Rory stood in the truck for a long time, listening to the dial tone. He’d never felt so helpless, and he couldn’t wait to wrap up this damn show tomorrow and get home to the people he loved.
And this time, he’d make sure Samira knew it.