His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,40
heart thumps. My hands tremble. A hysterical burble of laughter lingers in my throat.
And I absolutely cannot corral my racing thoughts.
I’m so shaken and frazzled that I snatch up my phone when it buzzes and answer it without checking the display or bothering to keep the strain out of my voice. A costly rookie mistake.
“Dr. Harlow,” I say.
“It’s me, babe. Where are you? What’s wrong?”
Oh, God. It’s Bruce. Causing me to feel a fun new emotion: guilt.
Fuuuuck.
“Hey.” I clear my throat, grateful this isn’t a video call and determined to try again because my voice still sounds way too high and false. I also remind myself that I haven’t done anything wrong. Sitting and listening while someone confesses to having feelings for me does not make me a villain. “I’m fine. I just, ah, stopped to get a drink before I went home. I got the nights mixed up with Kelly. It’s supposed to be tomorrow.”
“Is that why you’re upset?”
I absolutely cannot deal with his concern right now. It makes me feel like a snake. Nor am I ready to have any sort of coherent conversation. Not with my thoughts churning like this.
“It’s just a, ah, long day. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”
Long silence from Bruce. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”
His bewilderment comes through loud and clear. So does his hurt.
That’s when it hits me in a moment of terrifying clarity. He’s absolutely right. What just happened isn’t nothing, no matter how much I might wish it was. But I can’t un-hear what Dr. Jamison told me. I can’t un-feel my reaction to it.
What just happened is everything to me. Absolutely life-changing. Meaning that I’ve allowed this developing situation to turn me into a liar.
Lying to an innocent party like Bruce is bad enough, but the truth is that I’m mostly lying to myself. What I just learned from Dr. Jamison—from Michael—means that things are over between me and Bruce. Even if I’m not quite ready to admit it aloud.
“Ally?”
“You’re right,” I admit quietly. “Let’s talk about it this weekend. When you’re here.”
Stunned silence from Bruce.
Meanwhile, I press my lips together and furiously blink back a hot tear or two, determined to get through this conversation with grace and without crying. If I need to let Bruce go—which I do—the least I can do is behave like a grown woman about it and tell him to his face. That’s the least he deserves.
“Fuck,” he says, the syllable drenched in disbelief. “You’re dumping me. Aren’t you?”
My heart sinks and bottoms out somewhere near Tibet. This is obviously not a conversation I want to have while on the phone in the middle of a bar. “Bruce…”
“Just say it,” he says, his tone turning harsh. “Don’t leave me hanging for the next two days.”
I take a deep breath. On the one hand, it’s hard to hurt someone you care about. Hard to grab those oversized emotional shears and cut someone out of your life. On the other hand, it’s not hard at all. Not when I remember that the purpose of this conversation is to free me up to be with Michael.
That’s what makes this whole situation so sad.
It’s not that I never cared about Bruce, because I did. He’s a great guy. We had fun together even if he never set my heart on fire. None of that was a lie. It’s just that it’s humbling to realize that I talked and fooled myself into believing that I could be indifferent to Michael’s reappearance in my life when I knew, on a cellular level, that all he ever had to do was say the word and I’d be there. That maybe I was only ever biding my time with Bruce, hoping that a star or two would align and bring Michael across my path again. Married or not, I can’t honestly say that I’d care. Maybe that makes me a bigger fool than I ever suspected.
I just know that it’s Michael. It’s always been Michael.
If I’d been honest with myself all along, I’d never have entertained the idea of Bruce moving to NYC to be with me. Now Bruce will suffer because of my self-denial. And I know, in my heart of hearts, that once I’m with Michael, I’ll never give Bruce a second thought.
Does that make me a horrible person? A selfish person?
Maybe. And the stain on my conscience of knowing that I hurt someone because of my carelessness is something I’ll have to live with.