Not About Love (This Love Book 2) (25 page)

“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.”

A smile stretched across my face, and I was overcome by a feeling of hope and happiness. “A quarter of my closet space,” I countered.

“Deal,” he said with a smile.

We shook hands and kissed and then celebrated our domestic partnership the best way we knew how
.

LEAVE IT TO MY BROTHER
to make the rest of us look bad.

Well, actually, there was just one person he was making look bad.

Me
.

Maybe I shouldn’t have felt like that, but I did. My circumstances were different…but still. In my heart I felt I should do more, be more.

It was even more awkward because Ally had been the one helping him organize one heck of a proposal. Flowers, pretty lights, music—everything was on point.

Lou’s words were poignant and beautiful.

There wasn’t a dry eye in sight, and when Ella erupted into a loud “Yes!”, everyone’s sniffles turned into cheers. I was glad to be there to witness it, but I still felt uncomfortable.

I kept wondering if I’d ever come to a point where I felt confident enough to give my heart to a woman again. I had sworn I would never tie myself to anyone else after Portia, but now I wasn’t sure.

Ally was having my child; I knew she deserved more from me.

I liked her and I cared for her. I wanted to give her everything, but there was a part of me that still wasn’t ready for it. No matter how much I enjoyed her company or how compatible we were, there was always a latent fear holding me back.

After I had told her about my past and Portia, she’d offered to have a paternity test, thinking it might ease my mind. She understood it wasn’t an easy situation for me, and I was thankful for that, but I didn’t need a paternity test; I knew this baby was mine.

After seeing my baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound screen, I was both amazed and bewildered. I still couldn’t believe it was happening. It was exciting and frightening at the same time. I started thinking about love and life, about how fate operates. I started thinking that maybe sometimes no matter how much you think you’re in control of your life, fate is determined to show you the opposite—for better, and sometimes for worse.

I started believing that being a father was my fate. I had never been a fatalist, but I was starting to see things differently.

Maybe I was meant to move there, where my own brother had found love, so I would have a chance at building a family.

Part of me knew this child was a blessing. The other part worried the situation wasn’t really ideal, the timing wasn’t right. The selfish part of me missed New York, missed the life I had there, but soon I’d be someone’s father, and just the thought of it made my heart swell with joy and a certain kind of pride. When I had been younger, I’d always hoped I’d become a husband and a father—but that had been before I’d gotten disenchanted about love and women. As my mind kept rambling, all of a sudden, I remembered.

Out of the blue, I remembered what had happened the last night Ally and I had been together.

Both of us were piss drunk, stumbling through every action, every movement. I remembered my need for her, my chest aching at the thought of not seeing her again. I remembered her warm, soft skin, her gorgeous breasts, her flesh calling my name, the sudden impulse to be inside her, right then.

It had happened—I hadn’t used protection. I thought it had just happened once, but I wasn’t completely sure. I remembered how good she felt around me, skin to skin. It was even better than any other time. I could really
feel
her, but now that I knew the truth, I hated myself even more, because I was the cause of all this.

I could barely look at her without feeling uneasy, the sense of guilt taking over.

The knot in my throat appeared any time I was around her, and now with the proposal, it was even worse. I felt even more ashamed.

“Are you okay?” she asked me later that night, brows furrowed, her lips curved in a small pout.

I let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart, I have something to confess.”

* * *

“Boyd, I can’t fucking believe you!” Ally yelled. “How could you be so careless?” she asked in disbelief.

“I was drunk!” I said, trying to excuse myself. I knew it wasn’t a good enough excuse. I was guilty. She had every right to yell at me.

“That’s no excuse! I was drunk, too, but if you had told me you weren’t wrapping it up, I would have done it myself!”

“Oh, please! You didn’t even realize I didn’t have one on. That’s how far gone you were, too!” She scowled, and I shrugged as she let out an exasperated growl. The fact that I was trying to downplay it made her even more mad.

“If it makes you feel any better, it felt wonderful.
You
felt wonderful. If I could go back…I’d probably do it again.” She raised her eyebrows, and her eyes widened in disbelief.