Accidentally Amy(60)

But talk about going above and beyond. Over half of these jobs were better opportunities than the one she’d just left. Izzy grabbed the heavy old rotary phone that sat on her desk, a throwback relic that her grandparents kept connected to a landline because you never knew. As long as she’d lived there, Izzy had never used the old phone. Not even once.
Now, however, she was grateful as hell for its existence. Izzy lifted the phone to her ear and dialed the number from the first message she’d received. It was a direct line to Ashley, the VP of HR, and when the woman answered, she behaved as if she’d been dying for Izzy to call.
She said she was thrilled to hear from her and would love to chat in-person. Two hours later, Izzy had six interviews scheduled, six very promising interviews. She couldn’t believe her good fortune; like, what were the odds? How is this even happening?
She made a mental note to ask Josh if she could borrow his car for interviews since Blake still had hers. But when she was on the phone with the seventh, a Lori Anderjaska at Citibank who was going to rearrange her entire schedule in order to fit Izzy in, it all started making sense. Lori slipped and mentioned Blake’s name - when Blake called - and Izzy made the woman slow down and tell her everything.
And that was the moment she knew.


    Blake
Blake pulled up in front of Izzy’s building. He shut off the car and texted: I have pizza, McDonalds, flowers, a six-pack, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, a bottle of wine, your better-than-new running car, and a thousand apologies. If you’ll let me come in, I’ll give you all of it.
She hadn’t responded to him since the night before, when he admitted he’d told Brad about them. And honestly - he couldn’t blame her for being pissed. He should’ve asked her permission before going to the top with their relationship, but he’d been so fucking desperate to somehow have both Izzy and his integrity that he'd been impulsive.
And he was never impulsive. Although, to be fair, he felt wildly desperate and maniacally impulsive at the moment as he sat there in a car full of bribes and a gnawing in his gut that worsened every time his brain said it’s too late - you’ve already lost her.
Lost her. As if he’d ever had her.
But he had the promise of what they could be.
It wasn’t the idea of her, it was the reality of them. They hadn’t been together long, but it was long enough to know that losing her was more than he could handle.
When Skye had lied to him, resulting in their broken engagement, he’d been pissed and disappointed and felt like an idiot. But somehow today, the possibility that he might’ve lost Izzy felt far more devastating than a lost fiancé.
He got out of the car, grabbed the mountain of shit from the passenger seat, and walked up to the stoop. It couldn’t hurt to try the buzzer, right? Technically he had the building code, but there was no way he’d be that creep who just let himself into someone else’s apartment.
He shifted the stack of stuff and hit the buzzer, but after three times, gave up. He lowered himself to the ground and sat, knowing that if he went back to work he’d just think about Izzy and accomplish nothing. He might as well wait for her. She couldn’t be gone for that long, right? He stretched his legs out in front of him and settled in to wait her out.


    “What the hell happened to you, Mr. Phillips?” asked Bob, the doorman.
The short man with the silver hair grinned and looked down at Blake’s loosened tie, rolled up shirtsleeves, and soaking wet dress shirt. Definitely not his usual style. Blake just shook his head and kept walking.
He’d sat on her stoop for two hours, like a chump, hoping that if he could just see her, just talk to her face-to-face, he could convince her. But she never came home.
And he might’ve deluded himself into thinking maybe she wasn’t getting his messages, but right about the time it’d started raining, he’d seen conversation bubbles. Finally - holy shit - she was typing. He’d stood there in the rain, his heart pounding out of his chest as he stared at his phone and waited for her words.
Only the words never came. The bubbles disappeared and she doubled-down on her radio silence, which made him finally drop all that shit into the dumpster and walk home.
Blake was cold and fucking sad as he stepped into the elevator and rode up to his floor. It was barely five o’clock, but all he wanted to do was take a long, hot shower and fall into bed. He untucked his wet shirt and pulled off his soaked tie, throwing it over his shoulder as the doors opened and he stepped out.
He was on autopilot as he shuffled down the hallway, lost in his own head. A million miles away in his own pathetic thoughts. He was so gone that he very nearly stepped on Izzy.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, coming this close to trudging right over her. What the hell? Izzy was sitting in front of his apartment with her back against the door, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her head was leaned all the way back and her eyes were closed. She was asleep. Blake was scared it was a mirage as he lowered to his haunches.
How was she there? Moments before he'd been filled with disappointment and exhaustion, but now adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he was wide fucking awake.
Hyper-focused.
On her. Her breathing was soft and her vanilla scent made him breathe deep as he looked at her face. He reached out a hand and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips as he said, “Izzy.”
Her eyes fluttered open, bright and blue with butterfly wing lashes, and she looked…introspective. Her eyes were everywhere on his face - his nose, his chin, his lips, his forehead - before she said, “Why are you dripping, and where the hell have you been?"