Not About Love (This Love Book 2)

by Hilaria Alexander

  “No way!” I exclaimed, incredulous.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t quite love, but even back then I knew you were something special. You…got to me, but I didn’t want to feel that way and kept trying to convince myself we just had unbelievable chemistry, nothing more. I’m sorry it took me so long to come around when you got pregnant. I still can’t forgive myself. I was such an ass.”

  I took his hand in mine and gave it a squeeze.

  “Neither one of us knew how to handle it, Boyd. Babies don’t come with a manual. Heck, pregnancies don’t either, but this is the best decision I ever made,” I said as I patted my belly.

  “You know, I’ve noticed you keep referring to the baby as him.”

  “And you keep saying her.”

  “But you do know, don’t you? Is it a boy?”

  “It’s a boy.” I let out a sigh and looked into his eyes, but he wasn’t mad. In fact, the smile that stretched across his face was that of a person who’d just won the lottery.

  He was full-on grinning.

  “See? And you said you didn’t want to know!” I mocked him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. He lowered his face to mine, his lips less than an inch away from mine. This was a different Boyd.

  He was joyous, unguarded.

  “I would have been happy either way,” he murmured, his breath warm on my face. “But since it’s a boy, there’s a good chance he’ll have your red curls and blue eyes.” He wasn’t wrong; the baby boy could look like me. I had read boys tended to resemble their mothers and girls their father, though of course that wasn’t always the case.

  “Maybe he’ll have your brown eyes,” I whispered, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a delicious smile. My breath hitched, and I wanted to grab those lips of his and kiss him madly. My hormones were already out of control, but his words and the smell of him were driving me insane. I wanted to get locked in a room with him.

  For a week. For a month. Forever.

  I wanted him.

  Forever.

  I raised myself on my tiptoes and kissed him, then grabbed his face and brought him down to me. His hands circled my waist, keeping me in place—which was necessary, because his tongue circling mine was making me weak in the knees. The smell, the feel of him against me was too much.

  “When do you want to get married, Red?” he whispered against my lips.

  “I’d say let’s get on a plane and fly to Vegas, or wait until tomorrow to apply for a marriage license…”

  “But?” he asked, his brow raised.

  “I’m pretty sure our families are going to slaughter us if we don’t give them a proper wedding. I wouldn’t want to take this kind of joy away from Leanne. I’m sure she’s been waiting all her life to see you settle down.”

  “True.” He nodded.

  “And…I’d like my father to give me away.”

  “So, it’ll be a Tennessee wedding, then?”

  “Yes. And I would like to not be pregnant. So…let’s say several months from now?”

  “Whenever you want, Bertie. Just say the word and I’ll be waiting for you at the altar.”

  I sighed. My heart couldn’t take it. “If this is what I have to look forward to, I can’t wait to marry you, Mr. Rivers.”

  He leaned down to kiss me, a slow, burning, searing kiss. We were almost home, and thank goodness, because I wouldn’t have to wait much longer. When he pulled back, he smiled brightly, but then something in the distance caught his eyes, and I saw his smile turn into an expression of horror. He let out a shout and shoved us down on the ground. I fell on my back and hit my head. Pain shot throughout my body, and I couldn’t see anything. I heard shots. I opened my eyes and tried to lift myself up, but I couldn’t move because Boyd was on top of me.

  “Boyd!” His face was in my lap, but his eyes were closed. I tried to shake his shoulder but as I pulled it back, I noticed the blood soaking and staining his suit. I let out a scream and turned around to look at the shooter, who was already running away. People were screaming in the street, and it looked like someone was chasing the person who had just shot Boyd. People approached and told me they had called an ambulance. Two men lifted Boyd off of me once they assessed the level of his injuries; he had been shot in his shoulder. Terror filled my lungs, and I started sobbing, calling his name over and over. His eyes wouldn’t open. My belly tensed up in a spasm, and I felt lost and helpless.

  No matter how many times I called his name, his eyes did not open.

  * * *

  “Ga naar huis, Ally,” Johan said. Go home. I shook my head no. My eyes burned and my body hurt all over, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I couldn’t leave him while he was unconscious. “Just go home for a little bit and take a nap. There’s plenty of people here. I’m here. Lou’s here.”

  “Come on, Ally,” Ella said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “No, I can’t.” I wanted to sounded sure of myself, but my voice wavered. I was on the brink of tears—again—and I was exhausted. “I’m the reason he’s here. It’s my fault. I’m the cause of all this. I brought all this unnecessary drama down on us! How could I be so stupid?”

  He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay.

  He had gotten shot in his left shoulder. He was going to make it, but he had just gotten out of surgery and had lost so much blood.

  Blood.

  I looked down at my dress, which was covered in blood. It was black so the stain wasn’t that visible, but the jersey of my dress was soaked, and my arms had been stained with Boyd’s blood until the nurses cleaned me. A doctor had checked me out to make sure everything was fine, giving me an ultrasound and hooking me up to a fetal monitor to make sure the baby’s vitals were okay. Boyd had gotten shot to protect me and the baby, and it was all my goddamn fault. I could never forgive myself. I should have dropped the case. It would have been for the best.

  I was so thankful Ella and Lou were there; I couldn’t imagine having to make that kind of phone call. I hated that I was causing him and his family so much pain. When Lou got off the phone, he told me his parents would be flying out to Amsterdam the next day. Then he asked me to go home and rest.

  “You’re six months pregnant, Ally. You need to take care of yourself and the baby. If Boyd were awake, he’d tell you to go home, too.” The tone of his voice was firm, but there was still a certain sweetness in it he couldn’t shake off.

  “Come on, mama,” Ella said. “I’ll take you home.”

  There was confusion about the shooting. The day after it happened, we found out the police were able to catch up to the shooter, Ilse’s mother. The police questioned me for hours, and when I turned in the evidence I had set aside, they had a clearer picture of what had happened and why. However, it was still so puzzling. I had thought the woman just wanted to scare me and make me give up on the case and my research. I had no idea she would take her delusion to such length. Even after the hearing and the testimonies we had in court, she refused to believe her daughter’s death was an accident. Her family said she had been dealing with mental issues for years and had consequently ignored Ilse’s drug abuse. Her death had come as a shock, and she had been blinded by grief. When the police asked her why she attacked me and not Nars, she said it was because she knew I was the Lightfoots’ family friend and she wanted to hurt them. Friend. That was a bit of a stretch. The woman had been misinformed. Then again, her mental issues were probably at play.

  “You took the concept of ‘I’d take a bullet for you’ a little too literally,” I told Boyd a few days later as he recovered in the hospital.

  “I’d do it again,” he replied in a gruff tone.

  “I know you would. Thank you for saving my life—both our lives.” I instinctively patted my belly, and a moment later, he placed his hand on top of mine. Warmth spread through my chest, and hot tears stung my eyes.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby, ever—not if I can help it,” he said
with a small nod of his head.

  “I know.” I swallowed a sob, but the emotion trapped in my chest emerged from my eyes. The tears I had been trying to hold back ran down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them.

  “Come here,” he whispered. He took my hand in his right one and pulled me closer to him. I sat on the edge of the mattress, right next to him. Our noses touched, and our foreheads pressed against each other’s. I let out a sigh; I couldn’t help but think how devastated I would have been if something had happened to him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him not being around. I raised my hand to caress his jaw, and his warm breath washed over me.

  “I love you, Boyd,” I said, my voice heavy with emotion. Once again, I had to fight with myself to stop the tears. If there was one thing I hated about being pregnant, it was that I felt like a loose cannon. I was used to being in charge of my emotions, but these days I had no control. I was certainly looking forward to the day when I’d be less hormonal.

  “You’re only saying that because I took a bullet for you,” he teased.

  I pulled away and glared at him.

  “No, you ass!” I slapped him on his good shoulder, and he laughed.

  “No? You really love me?” His eyes burned with amusement.

  “I do.” Embarrassment swallowed me, and I felt my cheeks flush. I wasn’t used to this new version of me. For so long, I had been the woman who buried her feelings away. I didn’t know how to handle all the things I was feeling at once—the baby, Boyd, our engagement, the fear of losing him…I felt overwhelmed. I also felt blessed.

  I felt blessed to have Boyd by my side. He had his faults, and he had messed up a little in the last few months, but I knew he deeply cared for me and was going to love this kid more than anything else in the world.

  “You love me,” he said, trying to reach for my face with his good arm to pull me closer to him. I kissed him.

  “I do. I love you a lot.”

  He let out a sigh. The smile that stretched across his face reached his eyes, and I saw tiny, cute wrinkles appear at the corners. I wanted to see him smile like that for the rest of our lives.

  “I love you, too, Red,” he said, pulling me back to him.

  * * *

  Four months later

  Everything they tell you about babies is true. They cry all the time, they poop too much, they won’t let you sleep, and sometimes there is nothing in the world that will soothe them. Sometimes, not even sticking a boob in their mouth works.

  I knew this from experience.

  I had been a mom for a month. I was a worn-out, frazzled new mom.

  But I wasn’t alone.

  My man was with me during the beautiful, exhausting adventure. I should have called him fiancé, but the word didn’t seem to suit Boyd much—not the same way husband would, at least.

  We were both tired, sporting dark circles under our eyes.

  Delivering baby Jackson had been fucking painful, but not as hard as our first month as new parents. Still, despite everything, we were holding each other up, and our friends were helping.

  Oh, God bless them.

  Johan and Helga had been our saviors, bringing us food and watching the baby so we could nap. Hedwig showed up to help even if I didn’t ask her. She deserved a raise.

  She came over to the house when Boyd had to go to the gym and helped me watch Jax so I could take a shower. Even Lieke was excited to have a baby around, and I couldn’t have been happier. In a few years, she was going to be able to babysit.

  I was going to accept all the help I could get.

  Jax had started getting gassy way ahead of schedule, and as new parents, Boyd and I were largely unprepared to deal with a screaming baby who had terrible tummy aches. One night, for a few hours, we thought he was possessed. Thank God for Helga who showed up with simethicone drops. I harbored a real hate for those people who made it look like it was easy. Pregnancy and childbirth weren’t easy, and learning how to take care of a tiny human you just made wasn’t a walk in the park either.

  Worth it? Yes. Messy? You bet. Nothing about it was easy, and both Boyd and I had some rough, rough nights.

  Even so, it never failed that even in the darkest moment, we’d eventually see our silver lining. When we’d finally get Jax to quiet down, we couldn’t stop looking at him. He was just so beautiful. We couldn’t believe we had made him.

  Even when he’d scream his lungs out for an hour, it would all be forgotten when he fell asleep peacefully in our arms or when he wrapped his tiny hand around one of our fingers. Sometimes, no matter how tired we were, we would sit next to each other on the couch, staring at the perfect product of the two of us.

  Boyd insisted the kid already had personality, but I hoped he was just going through a phase. Only time would tell.

  One night, I woke up to go to the bathroom and found Boyd in Jax’s nursery, rocking him to sleep. He was singing “This Must Be The Place” by the Talking Heads. At first I thought it was an odd choice for a lullaby, but as I listened to the words, I remembered the lyrics and realized how it fit our situation.

  We had been disenchanted about love for years and had been so stubborn, insisting we didn’t need each other, fighting our feelings. As much as we didn’t make sense on paper, we worked. We had found our place in the world. We had found the one person worth spending the little time we had available with.

  “What? Do you want to keep crying?” he asked baby Jax in a hushed voice. “I’ve got plenty of time, son,” he said in a sing-songy voice.

  “DAMN. YOU LOOK HOT, MAMA.” Ella raised one eyebrow at me while I adjusted the pins in my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. I exhaled, nervous, and ran my hands over my dress. The wedding ceremony was over, but my stomach was still in knots.

  “Thanks.” I made a face.

  “What’s that for? You look beautiful, Ally,” she insisted. She was right; I did look beautiful, and I felt gorgeous. My dress was elegant and romantic. I had picked one with a sweetheart neckline, short lace sleeves, and an A-line skirt. It was simple and understated, just what I wanted. My hair was pinned in a chignon at the nape of my neck, and my makeup was flawless, thanks to Malia, one of the most fabulous makeup artists in Nashville. I looked great, but I was still nervous—frazzled, even. All the tension and anticipation of walking down the aisle and the worry about messing something up or stumbling and falling…all that was over.

  But I didn’t feel any lighter. Not yet.

  I had something very heavy to get off my chest, and I hadn’t said a word to a single soul—not even Ella or my mother. I had thought I’d feel better once the most nerve-racking part of the wedding was over. I hated being the center of the attention, unlike my husband.

  My husband.

  Everything still felt so surreal. Seeing Boyd waiting for me in an elegant dark suit had had me close to tears. It was a miracle I was able to hold them back, and I wasn’t the only one who was a mess. As I got closer, I read the same emotion in his eyes. When my father placed my hand in his, Boyd gave me a gentle squeeze and a wink.

  At that moment, we could have been alone for all I knew.

  No one else mattered—well, maybe just one other person, and he made sure we heard him. In that, he was just like his father.

  Just as we started exchanging vows, our son decided to start blabbering, rather loudly. We all exploded in laughter. Our little Jax was eight months old and quite the handful, but he was the light of my life.

  Our life.

  Before he was born, I never could have imagined I would love someone as much as I loved him. He was the perfect mix of Boyd and me. He had red hair and fair skin, but the eyes were his dad’s—and the personality, too. I smiled at the little boy I saw in the mirror, held by my best friend. He looked so damn cute in his big boy outfit of soft gray flannel baby pants, a vest with a white button-down shirt, and a burgundy bow tie. I was the happiest I had ever been, yet the knot in my throat wouldn’t go away.

  “Doesn’t Mom
my look beautiful, Jax?”

  “Stop it…you’re going to make me cry,” I said, holding up a finger under each of my eyes to catch the tears that were threatening to ruin my makeup.

  “What’s up with you?” Ella asked. “The worst part is over. Now it’s all fun and games. You look like you’re on the verge of tears! Is everything okay?”

  I exhaled nervously and frowned. I looked at myself in the mirror and adjusted my dress again.

  “No! Everything is wrong! My boobs are too big.”

  “No, they aren’t, you moron.”

  “I look fat.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You look gorgeous. Boyd loves you, and he loves your curves. You look like a glamorous movie star in that wedding gown. Come on, stop it with the nonsense,” she pleaded.

  Tears pricked my eyes. I sniffled and tried to wipe them away.

  “Ally…is everything okay? I’ve never seen you like this. What is going on?”

  “I’m pregnant!” I blurted out as hot tears slid down my face.

  “Again?” Ella asked, a shrill of surprise in her voice. “It’s only been eight months and you…”

  “Yes, I know…I’m still nursing and everyone says how it’s hard to get pregnant when you nurse…well, apparently not for us.”

  “Man!” she said, staring into space, still in shock.

  “I’d watch out for that Rivers sperm if I were you…”

  She snapped out of her shock and nodded in agreement. “Definitely. Not until the time is right.” Jax started babbling baby sounds and she said, “No, sorry, not ready to give you a cousin just yet! But you’re going to have a brother or a sister!” Her eyes widened in excitement as she said it. Jax started laughing, and in that moment, Leanne opened the door.

  “Here you are! I’ve been looking for the two of you everywhere! Ella, you’re needed on stage and you”—she pointed her finger at me— “are supposed to get ready for your first dance.”