His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,57

whole topic.

Meanwhile, my two so-called best friends, who knowingly ruined my night with Ally, break into raucous laughter.

“Fucking assholes,” I mutter, kicking off another round of guffawing at my expense.

15

Ally

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” I tell Kelly early that evening, when she arrives at my apartment carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and balancing a pink cake box from Valentina’s on the other. “I wasn’t looking forward to celebrating my birthday by myself.”

“Are you kidding?” She hurries in and deposits her items, including her enormous Louis Vuitton, on the kitchen counter, then pulls me in for a hug. “Once I heard you were cooking your world-famous chicken enchiladas? Where else would I be?”

“So you’re here for the free food and not for the occasion?” I say sourly, trying not to laugh. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

She turns me loose and scowls. “It’s your own fault. You should’ve let me take you out to the standard birthday dinner last week when I invited you. But no. You wanted to be with your precious Michael, who doesn’t even know it’s your birthday. That’s on you.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” I say glumly.

“This is what happens when you put all your eggs in the man basket,” she continues sagely, washing her hands and grabbing the flutes from the cabinet while I check the chicken enchiladas in the oven. “You cuddle up with your new love and make your own little honeymoon bubble. Ignoring friends who wonder what they’ve done wrong to deserve this kind of dismissive treatment—”

“Here we go,” I say, rolling my eyes and bracing myself for the entire speech.

“And now here you are. Sad and pathetic. Desperate for a birthday hug and a piece of cake.”

“Thank you for that unsolicited lecture.” I get ready to duck as she works on the champagne bottle, but she pops the cork like a pro and doesn’t spill a drop. “I don’t suppose it matters that I have not ignored you and you were the one who canceled our last girls’ night.”

“Details,” she says airily, flapping a hand before she starts pouring. “It’s much more dramatic to say that you kicked me to the curb rather than the truth.”

“What, that you were too tired and put yourself to bed at eight o’clock that night?”

“Exactly.”

We laugh, then she passes me a glass and raises her own in a toast.

“To the birthday girl. May this be her best year ever.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, clinking our glasses. “Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too. Oh. Before I forget.” She sets her bag on the counter, rummages in the LV and produces…

“Oh my God, a gift basket?” I cry, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“Just a few spa items,” she says, looking smug now that she’s pulled off her big surprise. “And here’s that mask I was telling you about. Makes your face like butter.”

“I can’t wait.” I pull her in for another quick hug and kiss. “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you. I was promised snacks. Chips? Guac?”

“Coffee table.”

“Let’s get this party started.”

She puts the champagne on ice while I grab the remote. Then we reconvene on the sofa and study our movie options.

“Sixth Sense or The Cabin in the Woods?” I ask.

“Pride and Prejudice. The Keira Knightley version.”

“Not the mood I was going for, but good alternative,” I say, about to make the selection. “Let’s do it.”

“Hang on.” Her tone shifts to crisp professionalism, as though she’s calling a meeting to order. I brace myself. “How are things with the sexy doctor? Tell me everything.”

Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to play it cool when the topic turns to Michael and our new relationship. I don’t even bother trying. I’ve resigned myself to my new reality, which is that I’ve turned into a human mylar smiley-face balloon, floating and bobbing happily through life.

The thing is…

The thing is that I’m re-obsessed with him, and it’s every bit as intense as I feared. God, it’s so nerve-racking to admit it, even to myself. Especially this early in our relationship, even though we’ve known each other for a while now. But I am. There’s no denying it. Worse, I’m talking about crazy love. Scary love. The kind that leaves you ecstatic and terrified at the same time. I know we’re in a honeymoon period where the sex is incredible and the problems are few. Everyone’s on his or her best behavior. But I’m a grown woman who’s had enough life experience to know the difference between a relationship that shows