Accidentally Amy(66)

“Did you go get all of this?” he asked, not meaning to sound so gruff. She looked at him like she didn’t want to admit it, but also like she knew he could see the answer.
“I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”
“Why?” He walked toward her, at her, crowding and stalking and just needing to be closer. She took a step backward, but he didn’t stop until her back was against the counter, her front pressed to his. “Did you actually get in the dumpster?”
She gnawed on her lower lip and shrugged.
He took her chin in his thumb and forefinger, raising her gaze, loving every expression that crossed the expanse of her face. “Is that the bottle of wine? And the pizza box?”
Some of the things he’d brought her the day before – the wine, the gallon of ice cream, the flowers – had apparently been rescued from the dumpster. The flowers were wilted and shredded and limply bending over the sides of a vase she’d put them in. The bottle of wine was in the sink, the label soaked because she’d clearly washed it; there was still a soap bubble on the dark glass. The empty ice cream container, the empty pizza box – they were each sitting on the counter, scrubbed and drying.
Izzy sighed and rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “I just wanted to be able to save them, okay? I threw away the gross stuff, um, but…” '
That pinching feeling; fuck, it was going to kill him. He felt almost paralyzed by the strength of it as he looked at his dream girl, surrounded by his gifts that she’d dug out of a dumpster because she wanted to save them. God help him. “Isabella Clarence, I love you so much that I can barely breathe. Please never change, okay?”
Her mouth curled into the sweetest smile and she said, “I won’t if you won’t, Blakely, um…shit, I don’t know even your middle name. What’s your middle name?”
“Clarence.” He looked down into her face, smiling up at him, and he tried counting the constellation of freckles on her nose. One. Two. Three. Four— “Shut up – you are lying!”
He laughed, still just as shocked as the first time he’d heard it, and he knew he’d never get sick of the wild animation of her face. She gaped at him, her pretty mouth wide open, and he said, “Swear to God.”
She blinked fast, then gave her head a shake, then wrapped her hand around his tie and gave it a tug. “This is – by far - the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard. Do you believe in fate, Mr. Chest?”
Blake swiped his thumbs over the soft skin of her cheeks – five, six, seven – and said the absolute truth that he felt in the very center of his soul. “I didn’t until I met you, Starbucks Amy.”

Epilogue



“I refuse. I will not do it, no matter what you say.”
“Come on, Iz,” Blake said, kneeling in front of her. “Just say yes.”
“I would rather die,” she said, turning her head away from him. She couldn’t look at him when he was like that, gorgeous and half-dressed and giving her that hopeful look that was nearly impossible to deny. “And I probably will die if I do it.”
“I won’t let you die.” Blake glanced at his watch before saying, “Pleeeeeease?”
Izzy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Why did I ever give you Josh’s number?”
“Because you wanted to have sex all night and needed him to feed The Darkling, if I recall.” Blake stood from where he’d been crouched beside the couch and extended his hand. “Get up and come with me.”
“Have I ever told you that you look good in boxer-briefs?” she asked, letting him pull her to her feet.
“A hundred times, but flattery won’t get you out of this. Come shower with me, and then let’s go kick some ass.”
“How can someone so smart be so incapable of learning?” Izzy muttered to herself as Blake led her toward the bedroom. She moved in with him a few months ago, probably too soon for normal people but perfect for them. Everything had been amazing since the day she’d hung her Target outfits in the closet beside his GQ suits, and she'd never looked back.
She had a great job at Google, working in HR, and Blake had been promoted to an EVP at Ellis. Their office buildings weren’t that far apart, so on most Mondays, they still met at Caniglia’s food truck for pizza and calzone.
Honestly, the biggest challenge for them so far had been the cats.
The Darkling didn’t like either of Blake’s cats, and poor Goodyear hid under a chair for the first week that Izzy and her furball lived there, terrified. The felines were finally co-existing as of last month – basically because The Darkling never left the bedroom – so peace had kind of been restored.
Josh moved into her old place, thrilled to have an upstairs apartment and a downstairs apartment like a total boss. She didn’t talk to him quite as often since she moved, but he and Blake texted all the time. Hence the Billboard Assholes challenge that her boyfriend was apparently too weak to refuse.
“Your cousin’s idiot friends keep talking smack, Iz, saying that our win was rigged because I’m good at pushups or some bullshit like that. Josh needs to clear his name with his nerd squad, and we need to prove that we can beat them at any challenge.”
“But we can’t,” she said, and when Blake stopped beside the bathroom door, Izzy raised her arms so he could remove her shirt. “The game is impossible and dangerous.”
“Shay.” He gave her a smile, one of those sweetly-patient grins, and took off her top like he was her caretaker. “We won before, and we can win again.”