“I’m counting on it.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the doorway. “There’s a kid out there, Davey. His stutter is pretty bad, and he’s on the outs with the other kids because of it. He’s keen to work hard.”
“I’ll make sure he does,” she said, her knowing expression alerting him that she knew why he’d mentioned Davey—because he saw so much of himself in the kid. “Thanks again, Rory. You’ve really come through for us.”
“My pleasure. I’ll be in touch.” He glanced around the hall, pleased with how everything was coming together from the vision the two of them first had. “And I’m happy to take as much of an active role in the program as you need, like dropping by occasionally to having informal chats with the kids, that kind of thing?”
“Great.” Her beatific smile made him feel like he’d hung those posters with sheer willpower alone.
As she returned to her task, he wondered if she knew what a difference she’d made in his life and how this donation was a small gesture of eternal gratitude.
Amelia really had changed his life, and he hoped she could do the same for these less-fortunate kids.
Twenty-Eight
Samira had managed to get through the workday without spilling her secret to Pia. She’d wanted to blab so many times but knew it would be better to wait until they met after work for handover.
Knowing Pia, she’d have a stack of files to go through regarding management of the center, despite her only going away for a month. Besides, Samira wouldn’t have to do much beyond oversee any major decisions. Their office manager was extremely competent, and Samira wished she could poach her to run her practice back in LA.
A sliver of unease made her rub her bare arms. Every time she’d thought about returning to LA over the last twenty-four hours she’d had the same reaction. She’d treated this six-month stay in Melbourne as a jaunt, a way to re-bond with her mother while helping her cousin. But LA was her home these days, and she’d looked forward to heading back.
Yet the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant, the ties that bound her to Melbourne tightened around her, and oddly, they didn’t feel so constricting. The baby’s father lived here. Her mom lived here. Her best friend/cousin lived here. A support network a single mother needed.
But could she do it?
Move back to the city she’d fled because an entire community had judged her and found her lacking?
Have her mom love the baby but give her side-eye because of who the father was and their lack of wedding rings?
Give up the comfort of having an ocean between them when her mom’s matchmaking grew unbearable?
She knew Kushi. The minute she learned about this pregnancy, she’d be booking the town hall for a reception. Not that her mom needed an excuse, but having a child on her own without being married would plunge Kushi back into matrimonial machinations; and the rest of her cronies too. Not too many babies were born in the local community without both parents wed. And those who were would be gossiped about over countless cups of chai.
Interesting, that when the news of Avi’s infidelity had broken and she’d left him, it seemed like she’d borne the brunt of the gossip. Never mind that Avi’s first child had been born out of wedlock. His family had such a huge standing in the Indian community, they’d glossed over that salient fact and thrown a lavish traditional wedding the month after her divorce had been finalized.
Not that she cared what the local community thought of her, but Kushi did, and the fact her mom might be ostracized again after Samira left was a sobering thought.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” Pia breezed into the conference room and shut the door. “You look like this.” Pia pulled a weepy face. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing like that . . . How did you know I’ve been with Rory again?”
Pia grinned and tapped her temple. “He called me this morning to thank me for all the dialect coaching and to tell me he got the job.”
“But how did you know—”
“I saw you two sneaking out of here yesterday afternoon, and I figured you ‘celebrated.’” Pia made cutesy quotation mark signs around the last word. “How’s it going with you two?”
“Good,” she said, nerves making her palms clammy. She needed to tell Pia about the pregnancy, but she knew firsthand how hard it was to hear about other women’s fertility when struggling with your own.
They may be cousins and best friends, but deep down, Samira knew this would test their bond.
“Good seems pretty tame considering how fast you two wanted to get somewhere more private yesterday.”
Samira’s cheeks flushed. “He’s great, actually. We have a lot of fun together.”
“So that’s what you’re calling it these days.” Pia snickered before nodding her approval. “He’s a nice guy. Perfect fling material while you’re in town.”
Samira had to tell Pia that Rory was more than a fling. He was the father of her child. She dragged in a steadying breath and blew it out. “Yeah, but is he daddy material?”
Pia’s eyes widened with shock before she gave a short laugh. “You’re crazy. Why would you consider trying to get pregnant with a guy you won’t see again when you head back to LA?” Her gaze slid away. “Not to mention the fact you had major problems conceiving years ago with Avi and you’re older now—”
“I’m pregnant,” Samira blurted, unable to keep the news in a second longer. “I know it’s madness because I rarely get periods and we used protection, but the condom broke, and I’m reeling from the shock, but I’m happy too, and I had to tell you.”
All the color drained from Pia’s face as she stood ramrod straight, her fingers curling into fists before unfurling, over and over, like she wanted to pump blood to the rest of her body.
Pia’s stricken expression and rigid posture made Samira wish she’d couched the news in better terms, but what could she say other than the truth? “I know it doesn’t make sense considering how hard I tried to conceive with Avi, but who knows, maybe there’s something to Mom’s belief in fate or karma or whatever, and this is the right time for me?”
Pia’s pallor hadn’t improved. If anything, she looked worse, and Samira took a step toward her. Her cousin flinched, and Samira stopped, unsure whether to approach to give her a hug or not.
“I know this is a shock—”
“What do you mean you’re pregnant?”
Pia spoke slowly, enunciating every single word with icy emphasis, her tone frigid. Her catatonic, unblinking stare unnerved Samira, but she’d had to do this, had to tell her cousin everything; it would be better than Pia finding out from someone else, and Samira had no doubt that could happen once she told her mom and the Indian grapevine got hold of the news.