Samira had never envisaged sleeping in her old bedroom at home in Dandenong when she’d left so many years ago, but it felt right bringing her child here for the first few weeks of Ronnie’s life outside hospital walls.
For the simple fact being a mother petrified her and having Kushi around would be a godsend. Her mom had been amazing in the fraught weeks after Ronnie’s birth; she’d never seen her so calm, when Kushi usually saw the worst in every scenario.
Rory had been pretty darn amazing too, and she had every intention of telling him once she tucked Ronnie into his bassinet.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and it eased open. “He’s such a precious boy,” Kushi whispered, entering the bedroom. “My darling boy.”
“He is a darling,” Samira said, staring down at her angelic son, sleeping now he had a tummy full of milk. She would never get tired of this. Watching him sleep. The shift of his eyeballs beneath paper-thin skin. The quirk of his lips in the corners. The smoothness of his peachy cheeks. “I’m so lucky, Mom.”
Kushi slid an arm around her waist, and she leaned into her mom. “These things are meant to be, betee. Your Rory came into your life for a reason, and despite my best efforts to push you elsewhere, your choices resulted in my beautiful grandson.”
Her mom glanced up at her. “So I am done, Samira. No more interference in your love life from me. You do what makes you happy.”
Samira smiled. “Did you feel that?”
“What?”
“That rumbling under our feet?” Samira made a grand show of shuffling across the fluffy crimson rug she’d picked out as a thirteen-year-old. “I think hell just froze over.”
“Cheeky girl.” Kushi pinched her cheek, chuckling softly. “Now go. Your young man is waiting for you outside.” Her fond glance fell on Ronnie. “Let me have some alone time with my beautiful boy.”
“Okay.”
Samira leaned down to place a butterfly-soft kiss on Ronnie’s forehead, before letting herself out of the room she’d spent so many hours in growing up, dreaming of Bollywood princes and marriage and babies. Her life may not have turned out quite the way she’d envisioned back then, but having Ronnie completed her in a way she’d never imagined.
She’d resigned herself to not having kids, and she’d been okay with that. But now that he was here, and the long weeks she’d sat by his bedside willing him to get stronger, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
And speaking of males who’d become ingrained in her life . . . she owed Rory an explanation and an apology. She’d underestimated him, using his age as an excuse to push him away when he’d proved his maturity above and beyond while by her side the last six weeks.
He’d rarely left the hospital and had been a silent support when she’d needed it most. He hadn’t bombarded her with questions. Heck, he hadn’t even asked about Manny once. But she knew he deserved an explanation, and with their son home and out of hospital for the first day, the time had come.
Kushi had made a big pot of mutton biryani for her homecoming, and her stomach rumbled appreciatively at the tempting aromas of spicy meat and rice laden with turmeric as she passed through the kitchen. But she would eat later. She had to talk to Rory. Now.
She found him in the backyard, standing by the curry leaf tree. He wore a pensive expression, but his eyes were clear and showed nothing like the perpetual worry that had clouded their aquamarine brilliance the last month and a half.
“Hey,” she said.
He turned toward her, and his lopsided grin made her heart flip-flop the way it had the first time he’d come to her rescue in that bar. “Is he settled?”
“Sleeping like a baby.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you the least bit terrified of what’s going to happen when he’s not sleeping and he’s yelling the house down?”
“Absolutely petrified, but that’s why I’ve moved back with Mom. She raised me, and look how I turned out.”
“Good point.” He hesitated. “While I think it’s a great idea you’re living here at the moment, I want to start looking for a place. F-for us.”
His nervousness made her heart melt. He didn’t need to be. She knew what he was saying, and she welcomed the suggestion. Now she had to tell him.
“I think us living together for Ronnie’s sake is great, so that’s a good idea.”
His eyebrows rose. “You think this is all about Ronnie?”
“Isn’t it?”
“For fuck’s sake, Sam.” He dragged a hand over his face. “I know you’re not marrying Manish. He told me. And I think it’s time you tell me what the hell is going on and why you told such a p-preposterous lie.”
She sighed and nodded. “You don’t have to be nervous—”
“I’m not nervous!” he yelled, before appearing shamefaced. “I’ve got a stutter. Had it since I was a kid. Really bad back then, but through endless speech therapy and the acting stuff, I can control it most of the time.”
Shock rendered her mute. Damn it, she’d worked with health professionals, including speech pathologists, for years. Her interest in dialect coaching had stemmed from Pia’s proficiency in speech therapy. She may not be an expert, but she should’ve figured it out.
“It can be inherited,” he said, sounding tortured. “That’s why I freaked out when you first told me about the pregnancy. I never wanted kids because I didn’t want to risk passing it on, because I hated how fucking insecure and inadequate it made me feel growing up.”
His expression softened. “But then Ronnie was born, and nothing else mattered but him growing to be a strong, healthy, happy kid.” He shrugged, adorably bashful. “I love him. And I love you. More than I could’ve ever thought possible.”
That shock rendering her speechless wasn’t easing up anytime soon. He loved her. This incredibly strong, supportive man loved her. And she’d done nothing to show him she felt the same way.
Stepping forward, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him.
A gentle, soul-searching kiss of affirmation and hope, of promise and future. A future for the two of them and their beautiful baby boy.
When she eased away and lowered her hands, she glimpsed wonder in his eyes.
“I love you, too. That’s why I told that monstrous lie about marrying Manny, because I didn’t want you to give up your dream of hosting your first major TV show for me.”
“But it was never all important to me—”
“Shh. Let me finish.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I thought if you chose me over your career, you’d end up resenting me for it, or worse, resenting the baby, so I couldn’t take that chance. Besides, I’ve been independent for a long time and didn’t think I needed you to help me raise our child.”
“And now?”
“Now I know what I want, and that’s you.” She blinked away the sting of tears. “You and me in this for the long haul, raising our amazing son together.”
Her strong, silent type didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He opened his arms, and she stepped into them, peace enveloping her as he tightened his grip on her. She rested her cheek against his chest, comforted by the solid pounding of his heart, and slid her arms around his waist.
They clung to each other, the heat of his body, the hardness of it, reminding her to ask at her first ob-gyn visit when she could resume relations post-birth.
“Rory?”
“Hmm?”
“The aunties were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Dating a younger man would lead me down a wicked path.” She leaned back to meet his eyes and winked. “I am so ready to get wicked with you for a long time to come.”