Not About Love (This Love Book 2)

by Hilaria Alexander

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I fucked up. I’m an ass. But now I can stay, if you want me to. I’m here to stay.”

  She gave me a confused look. “What do you mean you’re here to stay? How? How long?”

  “The gym. I talked to the investors, and I explained the situation. I told them I needed to be able to stay here in Amsterdam, so they helped me get a work visa. This way I can stay here, you know…for longer.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “What? Why didn’t you ask me to help you out with that? I could have called someone. I’ve done it for Ella…I could have done it for you, too.”

  “I know.” I nodded. “I know you could have, but I wanted to take care of it on my own. I’m the one who put you in this mess.” I tried to get her to look at me, and when she finally met my eyes, she gave me a small smile.

  “Give me a chance, and I promise you I won’t let you down.”

  She shrugged. “I guess. What have I got to lose, right?”

  “I’m going to be here for you, Ally. We’re going to raise this kid. You and me, together.”

  “I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP Shane out. I know you can’t understand why. You probably think it’s stupid, but I’m doing it for old times’ sake.” I tried to say the words with conviction, but it was a lie. That wasn’t my real motive.

  “Let me ask you something…how did it end between the two of you? Who dumped who?” Boyd and I were finally having the talk we hadn’t been able to have that morning, and so far we’d covered everything from our child to his business to my job. He needed to know about Shane and Grant, but I really didn’t want to dig up the past.

  I remained quiet and didn’t answer his question. I looked outside, at the lights on the canal. We were dining at a small Italian restaurant I was fond of. They had the best fresh pasta in all of Amsterdam. It was run by an elderly couple who had moved there back in the ’80s, Tonino and Concetta. They had been married more than thirty years, and they were just the cutest. They had two kids who used to help run the place, but they were both attending college out of town. The restaurant was small, and the table for two would barely fit plates, glasses, and silverware. Boyd’s imposing figure dominated the whole space; he looked even bigger in the cozy restaurant.

  Maybe I should have picked a different place, one where he wouldn’t look so ominous.

  “It didn’t end well, did it?” he asked, seeing I wasn’t answering his previous question.

  “Does it ever?” I replied, locking eyes with him.

  He shrugged. “Rarely. Sometimes.” I thought he was going to drop the subject, but then he said, “You want him to owe you, don’t you? He let you go and now he needs you. You’re getting your payback, aren’t you?”

  “What if I am?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Nothing wrong with that; I just need to know where you stand. We’re having a kid together, and I don’t want to get screwed over a second time.”

  “A second time? What happened the first time?”

  He flinched when he realized he’d said too much. He let out a deep breath and looked around us. He tipped his chin up and said, “Later.”

  * * *

  When we left the restaurant, we exchanged a few words, but then he grew quiet. We walked in silence for a little bit, and I waited for him to be ready to talk.

  “Her name was Portia. We were high school sweethearts, and we stayed together through college. I know you asked me about the picture at my parents’ house. Yes, that was her. We were in a band together in high school and college.”

  “You played the saxophone,” I said matter-of-factly, thinking about the picture.

  “Yes. I did,” he said as the corner of his mouth curled up. “I don’t play any more, though.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  He shrugged. “Debatable. I really don’t think we were that great. Stubborn and ambitious, yes, but not that great of musicians. Portia had a great voice.”

  “What kind of music did you play?”

  “Ah! Wait for it! We were convinced we’d bring soul music back, kind of like in that movie The Commitments.”

  “I love that movie.” I smiled, a bit surprised we were having this conversation, and he didn’t seem to be too torn up about it, but I knew the worst was yet to come.

  “I do, too… In hindsight, America wasn’t ready for a soul revival back then. If we had stuck together a few more years, we maybe could have made it…but we weren’t as good as we thought, really.”

  I laughed. He smiled, but too soon his smile fell. His brows furrowed, and his eyes grew dark.

  “Anyway…we were going to get married at the end of college. That was the plan all along. We had been together for an eternity already, and it seemed to be the right thing to do. We loved each other…or so I thought.” He exhaled a deep breath and stopped in his tracks, turning to look at me. I saw the hurt on his face and in his voice when he spoke again. “A few months before the wedding, she found out she was pregnant. We were scared, but happy. We were going to be a family. I was going to do whatever I needed to. I was going to get a real job and take care of her and the baby.”

  His lips pressed in a hard line, and he swallowed. He looked away as he said the words. “A couple weeks before the wedding, I found her sleeping with my best friend, the guitar player in our band.”

  “Oh, Boyd.” I looked at him, but he was still looking away in the distance, his jaw taut as he tried to get the words out. I could see what it was doing to him to talk about it.

  It was making him sick. His whole body was tensed up, his fists clenched.

  I took one of his hands in mine, opening his fist.

  “That’s not all. We fought for days. I was heartbroken and angry. I yelled some terrible things at her, and she kept begging for forgiveness, telling me she had made a mistake. I was torn. I didn’t know what to do. I had almost talked myself into getting over my pride for the sake of my son when…she confessed that the baby wasn’t mine.” He held my fingers, giving them a squeeze, and inhaled deeply.

  “Of course, at first I didn’t believe her. I thought Portia was doing it out of spite because I’d said I wouldn’t take her back. I wanted to kill my friend, but my father and my brother stopped me. If they hadn’t, I probably would have killed the motherfucker. We canceled the wedding and as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, I had to have a court order for a paternity test. She kept insisting the child wasn’t mine, but how was I supposed to know? I just couldn’t believe…any of this. I had loved this girl, this woman. She was my entire life, and she turned out to be a liar and a cheater.” He let go of my hand and ran both of his through his hair, ruffling it up even more.

  It should have been illegal to look that handsome. He looked beautiful even when he was angry, and my heart ached for him. This woman had broken his heart, and the pain inflicted had been so much that he never wanted to tie himself to anyone else.

  “As you can imagine, the child wasn’t mine.” Only then did he glance in my direction. The lost look in his eyes was heartbreaking, the sudden need to comfort him, torture.

  “I’m sorry, Boyd. That’s awful. No one should have to go through something like that.”

  “When you told me you were pregnant, I slipped into a black hole. I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t deal with it. It brought back years of heartbreak,” he said in a gruff tone. His jaw locked, and he closed his eyes. A moment later, he looked at me and gave me a tight-lipped smile.

  “So, are you ready to tell me about Shane now? Is it worse than my story?”

  I hesitated. “Hmmm, no. Traumatic, but not as bad. Unfortunately, not much can top that.”

  “You’re right about that, Bertie. So, what happened?”

  “Are you familiar with the term ‘ghosting’?”

  * * *

  Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

  A couple days later, we watched our bean-shaped baby on the small black screen of the ultrasound machine. We
were quiet; we didn’t need to talk.

  Our baby’s heartbeat filled the whole room.

  We held each other’s hand, and he squeezed mine when my doctor pointed out the baby’s heart on the small screen.

  “Isn’t that something?” he asked, eyes wide, a beautiful smile stretching across his face. He looked happy. I felt my heart swell in my chest, and my eyes filled up with tears.

  That was our baby.

  The tiny thing who made me a mushy, emotional human being.

  We went to lunch with a pocketful of photos. We stared and stared at them as if it was the most magnificent white dot to ever appear on a black screen.

  Well, it kind of was. It was our dot, after all.

  “The doctor said we’ll have another one around the five-month mark. She said you can see everything by then. Head, arms, legs…and the sex.”

  His eyes lifted from the pictures and met mine.

  “Do you want to find out?” I asked him.

  He shrugged, his eyebrows pulled together in a pensive look. He stared at the pictures again. “I-I don’t know. I kind of want it to be a surprise.”

  “Really? I want to know!”

  “You do? Well, then…how’s that going to work?” he asked in a tone of amusement, leaning toward me from across the table.

  “I can keep a secret,” I teased.

  “Oh, you can, can you? Good to know. Can you keep another secret?” he joked.

  “Of course.” I nodded and took a drink of my water.

  “I’m an asshole.”

  I choked on my water and started coughing uncontrollably.

  “Are you okay?” Boyd asked, getting up from his chair. He started patting me on my back trying to help. After a few interminable seconds, the cough stopped.

  “I’m…I’m fine,” I said, once the cough subsided. He sat back down across from me. “You took me by surprise. What was that for?” I asked him, a hand on my chest, still trying to get over my water-choking experience.

  “I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry.”

  “Boyd, stop this. Yes, you messed up—big time—but we’re past that.”

  “Are we?” he asked, dubious. “Sometimes I still feel like you want to rip my ass.”

  I laughed. “That’s because of my resting bitch face—and these crazy-ass hormones that keep messing with me,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

  He let out a loud laugh, giving me an amused look.

  “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Not really.”

  “But you were?”

  “Of course I was, Boyd! But…not any more. I understand…sort of. It took me a while to get used to the idea myself.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could go back. I should have called you every day. You must have been terrified.”

  “I was. I still am, in a way, but after a while, I realized something.” I took a good, long look at him, debating if I should really say what I thought. “I realized no matter how scared I am, I know I can make it. This baby-making business has been going down for thousands of years. Women raise babies, with or without men.” I glanced in his direction and smiled.

  He seemed a bit uneasy. “So you really don’t need me,” he joked.

  “I don’t.” My voice was emotionless. It was the truth. I didn’t need him.

  The playful expression on his face turned dark. His eyebrows pulled in, and his lips formed a straight line.

  “Let me clarify,” I said. “I don’t need you…but I’d like to have you. This kid will need a father, and whether you believe it or not, I think you’ll make a great one.” He seemed unsure about my words, but after a moment, his frown turned into a smile.

  He took my hands from across the table and held them until we left.

  “We’re having a baby,” he said as he walked me back home. His eyes were bright and there was a softness to them I had never seen before. A grin stretched across his face. I smiled back, but I was confused.

  This was definitely a different Boyd, not the one who had been quiet for weeks after I had told him. He looked almost…happy.

  “And you’re excited about it?” I asked. His grin grew wider, and it made his eyes twinkle even more. His good humor filled me with hope, but was it going to last?

  “I’m getting used to the idea.” He stopped and turned toward me then took my face in his hands. The warmth of his skin made my face grow hot, and a calm, fuzzy feeling spread in my chest.

  We were really doing this.

  I stared into his chocolate brown eyes and started believing that everything was going to be okay from then on.

  “I’m not going to let you down, Ally, I promise.”

  “I know.” I raised myself on my tiptoes and kissed him. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but somehow it felt right. That was another thing that was still unresolved: we were having a baby, but where did that leave us? Were we going to stay away from each other and just raise a kid? Or were we going to fall into old patterns?

  His hands circled my waist, lifting me ever so slightly. His lips were just as soft as I remembered, and his beard tickled me in the most delicious way. I had missed him so much. I had been so angry at him for not calling or showing up sooner, but now he was there, and he was promising he was going to be there for me.

  For us.

  He sat me down and his hand traveled to my belly, where it rested. It was too soon for us to be able to feel anything, but the gesture felt intimate.

  And right.

  I was relieved by his newfound excitement. We were really doing this.

  A rush of excitement coursed through my veins, and my heart started hammering away.

  Happiness.

  This was happening. We were going to make it.

  * * *

  The next few weeks were much better.

  Well, better if I didn’t count the sporadic, out-of-the-blue nausea and the constant tiredness. I took more naps than a preschooler. Sleeping more was completely fine by me, but I was getting behind on my workload. I realized that soon I would have to start making arrangements for the future. I was certainly not going to be able to work for a few weeks after the birth of the baby and even after, I might have to start reconsidering my hours. At least I was my own boss, and I’d be the one to decide.

  The case that was stressing me out the most was Grant’s.

  It should have been simple. The girl had bought the drugs from someone he didn’t know. He took them and they got drunk and high that night, but he had no idea the girl, Ilse, had been doing cocaine, too. The toxicology results revealed a mix of cocaine, ecstasy, and alcohol.

  The case should have been dismissed, only it wasn’t.

  The girl’s mother was now fighting back and was asking for Grant to be processed. The mother’s attorney insisted Grant was the one who bought the drugs and convinced Ilse to take them. Apparently, they had rounded up a few witnesses—most likely paid by the girl’s family, which I had found out was well-off—to put together a clean-cut image of Ilse. She was no longer the party girl I had gotten to “know” from all the info I’d gathered about her.

  Shane wasn’t happy with how things were going and neither was I. I had been ready to put all this behind me, quickly. It was supposed to be a simple case, and instead it was turning into an ugly fight and a huge headache. On top of everything else, Ilse’s mother seemed to hold a certain disdain for me. It wasn’t just me being paranoid; I had witnessed it prior to and during the preliminary hearing. At first, she seemed like any other distraught mother who had lost a child, but then her demeanor had changed. She had hired one of the best attorneys in town, Bernard Stouten. The man was a legend; he never lost, and obviously didn’t intend to start with this case.

  My professional life was giving me headaches, but at least I was winning on the home front. Boyd had done a one-eighty. He was invested in the pregnancy and was taking care of me…as much as I allowed him to. He was following the construction of the gym closely�
�restructuring the old building chosen for the location was proving to be more of a challenge than the investors had originally thought, and the opening had been pushed back to late summer.

  My due date wasn’t until the end of November, so that was going to work out just fine. He came with me to every appointment and made sure I was feeling good and eating well. He even made sure I was taking my vitamins.

  He had moved in with me a few weeks after he’d gotten to Amsterdam.

  We had been cautious at first, dancing around each other like strangers. We were having a baby together, but we weren’t a couple, and neither one of us had had a significant other in a very long time.

  I didn’t ask him to sleep with me, or to come over, or to be together. Yet, somehow it happened…naturally, just as it had in the past. We could never say no to each other.

  Old habits die hard.

  The pull was always there, the invitation always unspoken, floating in the air, burning in our eyes. It was a terrible, delicious addiction, and it kept happening. He couldn’t stay away from me as much as I couldn’t get enough of him.

  Plus, I now needed him even more. The pregnancy hormones were making me crazy horny. He was delighted, to say the least.

  When it became clear he was spending more time with me in my apartment than at the place he had rented, I told him he could move in, if he wanted.

  It was a Saturday morning and we were in bed, just lazing around.

  “I do have a spare room,” I casually offered. “You could move in.” Saying I had a room versus inviting him to live with me sounded so much better.

  Rejection didn’t look good on me.

  “No. That should be the baby’s room,” he replied in a gruff tone. I nodded and bit my lip, trying to forget every silly thought I’d had about us living together. I glanced furtively at him, and that was when I noticed the corners of his lips curl up. His eyes were bright and light, full of mischief.

  “But I’ll move in with you, if you’ll share half your bed with me…and half your closet space.”