His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,67

that. The two of us have so many more layers of peace, understanding and fun. I trust her. I depend on her. I need her. I crave her. Nothing she’s ever done has given me the slightest hint of meaningful trouble on our horizon. I’ve never doubted her. Never feared she’d let me down in any significant way.

So why, in that beautiful moment that was the answer to every Ally-centered prayer I’ve had since the minute I met her, when she looked at me as though I’m the king of this universe and all universes yet to be discovered, did I take the emotional equivalent of a rocket-propelled grenade and blow the whole thing to smithereens?

“I froze up,” I say with my ongoing incredulity. “I screwed up. She was honest. She put it all out there. She loves me. She wants us to move in together. She wants kids. A life. With me. She knows that already. Zero doubts.”

“And naturally, since you’re a man, you freaked out and ran screaming from the premises like your hair was on fire,” Mia says acidly.

“No,” I say, still struggling to process the way my emotions shut down on me and discover a way to convey it to her so she can give me the help I clearly need. I feel like Michelangelo chipping away at his block of marble and trying to find David inside even though there’s no sign of him yet. “I just…couldn’t believe it. It can’t be real.”

“Why not?” she asks, the glare giving way to a thoughtful frown.

“Because. My marriage was bad. Almost from the start. We worked on it, but it never got much better. I haven’t been divorced that long. I wanted to connect with Ally, yeah, but I never got much further than that. I just figured that we’d, I don’t know, enjoy each other for a while and see what happened. I didn’t picture this.”

“This what?”

“It’s so easy with Ally,” I say with a surge of relief, as though I’ve chipped away a large chunk of marble and now have a better view of my thoughts. “Everything about being with her is easy. And fun. There’s no drama. No misunderstandings. No awkward silences. No passive-aggressive behavior. On either end. It just…works. I didn’t expect to come out of my divorce and find my life partner ten minutes later. I wasn’t expecting her to be so open about her feelings so soon. I just… I don’t know. I feel like this can’t be right. I don’t get to go from the saddest, loneliest, emptiest marriage in the world to paradise every day with Ally. There’s gotta be a catch somewhere. A booby trap. Something I’m missing. Something I’m going to screw up. I’m not just suddenly going to succeed beyond my wildest dreams at this relationship when I fucked the other one up so badly.”

Her expression clears. “Yes, you are, you unmitigated idiot,” she says without missing a beat. “Because Ally is the right person for you and your ex wasn’t. Hence, things work with Ally.”

I stiffen, my brain clearing of everything except the knowledge that my sister has just dropped a profound truth directly on top of my thick head. The sensation is so overwhelming that it creates absolute and undeniable clarity.

Ally and I belong together. No one else could—or would—ever work. For either of us.

Duh.

It occurs to me that maybe I’m torturing myself for no good reason.

It occurs to me that maybe I could—and should—stop.

My fear packs its bags and takes off. Just like that. Gone.

I start to laugh, then catch myself as she continues speaking. I don’t want to miss any of these sprinkled pearls of wisdom.

“You know what your problem is?” she continues. “You freaked yourself out because the only thing you’ve ever failed at in your whole life was the biggest thing. Your marriage.”

“What?”

“You said so yourself. That you picked the wrong woman. You failed at picking the right woman. So now, here comes Ally and you don’t trust your judgment. You figure if things aren’t hard, they can’t be right. The thing you don’t understand is that things with Ally are easy because they’re right. See how that works?”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” I say, starting to feel sheepish about the whole thing. What kind of idiot pushes away the love of his life when she throws herself at his feet? And to think I’m considered the best and the brightest of my generation. I’ve got a medical degree from