Not About Love (This Love Book 2) by Hilaria Alexander Page B
Authors: Hilaria Alexander
Tags: Novel
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the screen with a knot in my throat as panic filled my stomach.
I finally dialed the number, impatient to hear his voice.
It went to voicemail.
I called again, and again, and again.
His phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing . Every ring felt like a stab to my heart, an imaginary knife going in deeper and deeper, killing me a little bit more.
Was this really happening?
After a few tries, I decided to leave a voicemail. I cleared my throat and said,
“Shane…call me. Text me. I need to talk to you about your email. I-I don’t understand. Is that a joke? Is that supposed to be funny? Call me back. Please.”
I threw myself on the bed and read his email once, twice, three times. I stared at the screen of my phone like a desperate teenager trying to summon a call from the boy she’s infatuated with.
I started crying and eventually fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later, the room dark, my body stiff. I had left the air conditioning low in my room and had fallen asleep so suddenly, I hadn’t covered myself with a blanket.
I was cold and lonely, and when I checked my phone and saw I had no missed calls, my heart sank.
Why hadn’t he called? This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t the person I had fallen for.
The one who talked about marriage and red-haired kids before I left for the summer. Was that all a joke? How could he say he wanted to get married if he didn’t mean it?
He’d said, “We can get married after we finish law school…well, maybe after we both pass the bar, and then we can go work for someone for a few years, and then we’ll open our own law firm. Lightfoot and Lightfoot.” I could still hear the words echo in my ear.
At first, I hadn’t understood what he meant. When he kept staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, I’d laughed, mostly out of shock and surprise.
“Are you serious?” I had asked him.
“How could I not be? I love you, Alberta,” he had responded, a beaming smile stretched across his face.
That moment had been so simple and perfect.
It meant everything to me. We were just two people promising they wanted to spend their life together, even if it wasn’t going to be any time soon.
I could still remember how it felt when I realized we were making plans for the future. I was going to marry this man, my best friend, my first and only love.
We would get married after law school, and one day we were going to open our own law firm and kick butt side by side like in one of those TV dramas.
Lightfoot & Lightfoot: Delivering justice, one client at a time .
It didn’t take long at all for my head to be filled with visions of white dresses. Shane wasn’t helping either.
“And then, one day, we can have little redheaded children running around the house,” he had said. I had never hinted at the idea of marriage or children; he had done it all on his own. Now I was sitting in a dark room in the middle of Paris, my heart shattered by his empty promises.
Something must have happened. Shane wasn’t like this. He was honest.
Loyal.
But now, I didn’t feel like I could deny the evidence any longer.
I was getting dumped.
Via email.
While I was on the other side of the motherfucking world.
Un-fucking-believable.
Before I’d left, he’d said he was going to talk to his family about our plans.
His family.
This was their doing. Shane’s mother had never hidden the fact that she didn’t like me. She had never tried to hide what she thought of me.
She thought I wasn’t good enough for her son.
My Shane.
I decided to try again…and called him three more times.
He never answered.
He never called back.
He never texted.
It was over.
December 2015
LONG BEFORE IT WAS EVEN a word used to describe the end of a relationship, I had been ghosted. My boyfriend, whom I lived with, left town while I was overseas.
And the only thing he left behind was a fucking email.
An email. We were living together, for fuck’s sake!
He never returned any of
I finally dialed the number, impatient to hear his voice.
It went to voicemail.
I called again, and again, and again.
His phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing . Every ring felt like a stab to my heart, an imaginary knife going in deeper and deeper, killing me a little bit more.
Was this really happening?
After a few tries, I decided to leave a voicemail. I cleared my throat and said,
“Shane…call me. Text me. I need to talk to you about your email. I-I don’t understand. Is that a joke? Is that supposed to be funny? Call me back. Please.”
I threw myself on the bed and read his email once, twice, three times. I stared at the screen of my phone like a desperate teenager trying to summon a call from the boy she’s infatuated with.
I started crying and eventually fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later, the room dark, my body stiff. I had left the air conditioning low in my room and had fallen asleep so suddenly, I hadn’t covered myself with a blanket.
I was cold and lonely, and when I checked my phone and saw I had no missed calls, my heart sank.
Why hadn’t he called? This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t the person I had fallen for.
The one who talked about marriage and red-haired kids before I left for the summer. Was that all a joke? How could he say he wanted to get married if he didn’t mean it?
He’d said, “We can get married after we finish law school…well, maybe after we both pass the bar, and then we can go work for someone for a few years, and then we’ll open our own law firm. Lightfoot and Lightfoot.” I could still hear the words echo in my ear.
At first, I hadn’t understood what he meant. When he kept staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, I’d laughed, mostly out of shock and surprise.
“Are you serious?” I had asked him.
“How could I not be? I love you, Alberta,” he had responded, a beaming smile stretched across his face.
That moment had been so simple and perfect.
It meant everything to me. We were just two people promising they wanted to spend their life together, even if it wasn’t going to be any time soon.
I could still remember how it felt when I realized we were making plans for the future. I was going to marry this man, my best friend, my first and only love.
We would get married after law school, and one day we were going to open our own law firm and kick butt side by side like in one of those TV dramas.
Lightfoot & Lightfoot: Delivering justice, one client at a time .
It didn’t take long at all for my head to be filled with visions of white dresses. Shane wasn’t helping either.
“And then, one day, we can have little redheaded children running around the house,” he had said. I had never hinted at the idea of marriage or children; he had done it all on his own. Now I was sitting in a dark room in the middle of Paris, my heart shattered by his empty promises.
Something must have happened. Shane wasn’t like this. He was honest.
Loyal.
But now, I didn’t feel like I could deny the evidence any longer.
I was getting dumped.
Via email.
While I was on the other side of the motherfucking world.
Un-fucking-believable.
Before I’d left, he’d said he was going to talk to his family about our plans.
His family.
This was their doing. Shane’s mother had never hidden the fact that she didn’t like me. She had never tried to hide what she thought of me.
She thought I wasn’t good enough for her son.
My Shane.
I decided to try again…and called him three more times.
He never answered.
He never called back.
He never texted.
It was over.
December 2015
LONG BEFORE IT WAS EVEN a word used to describe the end of a relationship, I had been ghosted. My boyfriend, whom I lived with, left town while I was overseas.
And the only thing he left behind was a fucking email.
An email. We were living together, for fuck’s sake!
He never returned any of
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