His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,53

be fair, any grinning I do these days is a direct result of the presence of one Dr. Ally Harlow in my life for the last several weeks rather than, say, the chirping birds or the availability of red velvet when it comes to dessert selections.

I catch myself scanning the crowd for any sign of her gold-streaked hair, which I know is stupid and futile. First, because I just saw her a couple of hours ago at the office and woke up with her this morning before that. Second, because I checked the board before I came down here and know that, unless her rhinoplasty patient bit the dust in the middle of the procedure, she’s still in surgery. Finally, because she would’ve texted me so we could eat together if she were free.

So I’m doomed to a solitary lunch, which is fine. My disappointment that she’s not here knocks the perfection of my day down from one hundred percent to ninety-nine percent. I think I can manage.

Why?

Because I’ll see Ally tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And all the days into my immediate future. Which means that I am happy, a word that I don’t think I’ve used to describe myself since Santa left the latest electronic gadget under my Christmas tree when I was a kid.

Thanks to Ally? I am unbelievably, ridiculously and perfectly happy.

Much to my surprise.

Not that I didn’t know that Ally and I would make a great team. I always had that gut feeling. It’s just that I never knew I could feel like this. Between all my medical training and the years spent trying to do the impossible and save a failing marriage, I’ve spent a lot of time with big chunks of my life out of whack. Back when I was in med school during my residency, I had a negligible personal life and didn’t care because I was so invested in my training. There was a brief period of domestic harmony when my ex-wife and I started dating and got married, quickly followed by misery and workaholism. I started to breathe again and slowly got my shit together once we made the decision to split.

And now…

I don’t even know how to put it other than to call it liposuction for my soul. I feel as though I’ve excised all the bloated, heavy and unhealthy parts and now can breathe again. There’s room for relaxation, laughter and enjoyment.

For once in my life, there’s nothing missing. No gaping holes.

With Ally? There’s passion. Friendship. Peace. Beyond my wildest dreams.

And that, sports fans, is what scares me.

I frown down at my sandwich, picking up the first half. Things could still go south on me here. I’ve seen this movie before. I know how it could end. There’s always a honeymoon period starting out. Everyone’s on their best behavior. No one sees the chips in the paint. I’m trying not to be too fatalistic about our relationship. I want to just enjoy this time with her for as long as it lasts without putting any expectations or limitations on it. But it’s like swimming in the ocean. You might be having a great day at the beach with your surfboard, catching waves and enjoying snacks and a brew. But there could be something out there, skimming just below the surface and waiting for the perfect opportunity to take you off at the knees.

There’s always something out there.

What if Ally decided she didn’t want to be with me, for example? Even the idea is like an injection of wet concrete into my veins. I don’t think I could—

“Here he is,” calls someone, snapping me out of my doomsaying. “Over here, Jake.”

I glance up in time to see the final approach of Liam and Jake carrying their lunch trays. I automatically gird my loins and do my best to stifle an eye roll. Are they my best friends and loyal business partners? Absolutely. Would any one of us die for the other two? Without question. These are the best guys I know. That doesn’t mean that they’re not idiots who should immediately be written into the plot of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I’m sure they’d fit right in with Charlie, Dennis and the rest of the gang. Although I suppose that makes me Mac. Something about having seen them once come to actual blows over whose turn it was to wash the dirty dishes stacked in the sink back when we were at NYU precludes me