His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,7
he hands me my refill and I drop a tip into his jar. “I’ll catch up.”
“I get it,” Jake says, nodding sagely. “Your little reunion didn’t go as planned?”
I think about my soaring but irrational hopes for this evening. My equally illogical disappointment as said hopes got incinerated in a white-hot flash of bad timing and thwarted desire. I think about how some other guy belongs in Ally’s bed, and I still do not and probably never will. I briefly consider the possibility of solving the problem by flipping the guy over the railing when the chance presents itself, then remind myself that a) at least a hundred people would witness the assault because I’m not the smooth criminal type; and b) indulging my seething jealousy is probably not worth the potential risks to my career and freedom.
Which leaves me with drinking and brooding as my only other alternatives.
“It did not,” I say, my voice clipped.
“That’s a shame,” Jake says, following my line of sight to the table about fifty feet away where Ally and the guy are eating. “She’s easy on the eyes.”
“That she is.”
Let’s go ahead and classify that as the understatement of the century.
That bombshell body. That hair. Those eyes.
I know I don’t get a woman just because she’s beautiful and I want her. Or even because I really want her. That’s not how the world works. Ally gets a say in the matter, not that I’ve ever even told her how I feel. Hell, maybe she hates my guts. And on top of that, she has a boyfriend. Understood.
But fuck.
I’ve fantasized about her for so long. Thought about her so many times over the years.
I didn’t get divorced because of her. And I’m not looking to get into a whole big thing with someone new right now, even her. But I’m free now. And I really hoped I’d have the opportunity to spend a little time with her. To explore the connection I thought we’d felt back then. Just to satisfy my curiosity, if nothing else.
Now it’s not going to happen.
Is this the end of the world? No. Will I survive? Yes.
Do I want to survive at this dark moment? Questionable.
Stifling a curse, I down my new drink in a couple of rough gulps, then put the empty glass back on the bar and signal for the bartender once again.
Thanks for the kick in the teeth, God.
Thanks. For. Nothing.
Jake watches me with poorly concealed amusement. “How’s ruining your liver going to solve anything?” he says.
“What else am I going to do until the boat docks?”
“There are plenty of other beautiful women on the boat,” he says, incredulous. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”
I shrug, saying nothing.
If he doesn’t want me to tell him, then I won’t. But I hadn’t noticed.
“Why don’t you flash your wallet at one of them? Enjoy yourself and stop acting like a loser.”
The mere suggestion leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“Let’s just say the bloom’s off that rose,” I say.
As a newly divorced guy, I’ve enjoyed my share of hooking up lately, I admit it. But you can only swipe right so many times and make idle chitchat with complete strangers at bars as a prelude to having one-off sex before it hits you: it’s not that great. Oh, sure, the theoretical idea that you could have sex with any willing woman who catches your eye is great. In practice? Not so much. How much lame conversation are you willing to endure before either calling it a night or suggesting an adjournment to someone’s apartment or a hotel room? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? What do you say after you’ve done the deed? How long should you stick around? Should you act like you’re interested in more when you usually aren’t?
I have alternatives. I get that. All the women in the world aren’t tied to some dating app. Women make eyes at me at the gym and the hospital all the time. But why piss in your own swimming pool? I don’t want to get glared at every time I go to the cafeteria at work just because I didn’t call someone the next day.
I don’t have the time or energy to deal with all this crap every time I want to get laid. It’s exhausting. And my career is already exhausting enough, thanks.
The whole dating thing, man. Fraught with peril.
“So what does the guy do?” Jake asks thoughtfully, still staring at the couple.