Accidentally Amy

Chapter Thirty-One

Blake

Izzy: Two things. Number 1—I miss gas station donuts and co-ed showers.

Same , I thought as I stepped out of my car and hit the lock button on the key fob. There was a chill in the early morning air, the subtle fall warning that winter was on its way, and for once I was glad I was wearing a suit jacket.

Izzy: Number 2—Hope your stressful day goes better than expected. I’m not prying, but I’m assuming it has to do with the merger and the resultant revised org chart. In which case I’m sorry for your discomfort, but also not sorry.

I put my keys in my pocket and texted, Nor am I.

I didn’t want to say much, but I also didn’t want her worrying about the shit that was going to go down at Ellis; that was my problem. I added, It’s a mess, but just know that I will NOT let work get in the way of us.

Izzy: US?

I pushed through the doors at Scooter’s, more determined than ever to find a way to make it work. I texted, US .

···

“Are you kidding me right now?” Brad sat back in his chair, looking at me like I’d lost my mind as the sound of steaming milk suddenly seemed deafening. It’d been nice when I’d been discussing Izzy, providing a loud, foamy layer of privacy, but now it just added to the tension in my neck.

I asked, “Which part are you referring to specifically?”

“All of it— shit .” The older man smiled and gave his head a shake. “You moved in fast as hell after version one, didn’t you?”

“I know, I know,” I said, recalling the way I’d literally sprinted from the building when I thought I was safe to date Izzy. I reached up and tugged at my collar, which suddenly felt too tight. I hated sharing my personal life with anyone from work, but since I wasn’t willing to lie, it was the only way. I’d told Brad everything, and I just hoped Izzy would forgive me for not asking her first.

I considered Brad a friend; I knew I could count on his discretion, regardless of what the man’s business decision was on the matter.

Still, I was nervous. This was new territory for me.

Brad said, “You never talk about your personal life, so I’m assuming this must be important to you.”

I nodded. “It is.”

“Well, then,” Brad said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I have good news and bad news.”

I clenched my teeth—gnashed them together, really—before saying, “What’s the bad news?”

Brad’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me and said, “The same as the good news. As you know, we’re eliminating some duplicate positions, post-merger.”

“Yes.” I never liked letting anyone go, but the reality was that when Ellis bought out smaller companies, they usually ended up with too many employees in certain roles and had to downsize.

“Well, the Boston branch was heavy on admin, so most of the cuts will be from there. However, there are some senior positions from that location which we’ll keep.”

I knew this already. “Brad, I was the one who—”

“Isabella Shay is a new employee, with far less experience than the generalists in Boston, but her wage is the same. So it makes sense that hers should be the eliminated position.”

I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. “ What? ”

“You signed off on the plan when you were in Boston, Blake.” Brad wore a patient smile as he took off his glasses and adjusted one of the sides. “But the spreadsheet only had employee numbers, not names.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Holy shit, I didn’t know.”

“That’s right, you didn’t.” Brad put his glasses back on and glanced at his watch. “Think about that. You knew—and still know—that it’s the right business decision if you take emotions out of the equation. There isn’t a single solid reason why we would change the plan.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, frustrated because shit— Brad was right. It was the right move. If I weren’t involved with her, I would absolutely put Izzy on the top of that list.

Anyone in my position would.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe this is a good thing, if you really like this girl. Now you don’t have to worry about your jobs getting in the way.”

Not helping. I seriously felt sick to my stomach, because I already knew there was nothing I could do. If I tried to save her job, it would be seen—rightly so—as a conflict of interest and the by-product of my emotional attachment to her. Brad might be my friend, but he wouldn’t overlook the obvious.

“Listen, I have to go.” Brad picked up his coffee and stood. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that regardless of your relationship, this is top secret until Human Resources takes care of it tomorrow morning. I trust you’ll keep it to yourself?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

I watched Brad leave, and then I just sat at the table, feeling numb.

The cuts were happening tomorrow morning. I knew that because I was the one who’d stared at the spreadsheet for hours before making the decisions. I was the one who’d called Pam and scheduled when and how the separations and severance packages would be handled.

Ellis was generous with severance, and I was proud of the kind, helpful way our HR team provided assistance to departing employees. I hated layoffs, but the way the company took care of people had always made me feel marginally better.

The way it worked—the way it’d always worked—was that everyone in the know kept it entirely confidential until it went down. That way no one could be tipped off in advance and do something crazy; I’d seen it all, so I knew firsthand that the key to separations running smoothly was to keep everything quiet.

But how the fuck was I supposed to do that? How was I supposed to not tell Izzy?

I’d always looked at the integrity of my role through a simple lens. It wasn’t uncommon for me to have to give depositions and make statements under oath; workers’ comp claims, harassment, unlawful terminations—those were things that happened under the umbrella of Administration and HR.

So I’d always conducted myself as if every decision I made could be questioned under oath. Because it could. If I was always honest and followed the rules, I’d never have anything to hide.

It’d always seemed remarkably black and white to me. I could testify under oath that I’d never shared confidential information with an Ellis employee because I never had.

But how could I follow the rules and keep this confidential when all I wanted to do was protect Iz?

Izzy

I walked into the conference room, trying my hardest not to look too happy, like I was a deranged elf or something.

But it was tough.

Because it felt like my world had changed over the weekend, like it’d grown bigger, its colors painted brighter. I was ridiculously amped by the promise of it all.

Obviously, I knew that Blake was just a guy and it might not work out.

It probably wouldn’t work out, honestly, if you played the odds on the dating game.

But why not jump into these moments of wild promise and roll around in them? I was going to make lovesick snow angels in these swoony times and not allow odds and reality to creep in and destroy the magic.

Pam came into the conference room and started talking about the acquisition, which I’d expected. I felt cool, that I had this knowledge ahead of time (although, to be fair, it appeared as if half of the department had been involved in the paperwork side of the merger).

Pam started talking about benefits for the Boston employees who were coming on board, so I had to take a lot of notes; this was going to give me quite the workload, but I was still in love with my new job, so I was excited. But when it was clear the woman was wrapping up the meeting, I couldn’t help but notice that she’d yet to mention the org chart.

I was so tempted to ask, but I didn’t want to accidentally say something that hadn’t been announced yet. The last thing I wanted was to sabotage myself. After the meeting, I was spared from having to ask, when Heather, the HR assistant, asked Pam, “Do I need to merge the two org charts?”

Pam shook her head and said, “Blake already did it this morning. It’s on the shared drive.”

I stood there, waiting for Pam to say he was no longer our boss, but she didn’t.

Weird, right?

I went back to my office and opened the Excel spreadsheet of all the new employees that I’d need to reach out to, ready to dig into the work. But I couldn’t stop myself from checking the shared drive. I opened the org chart document, and it only took about five seconds for me to see that Blake was still on top, with Pam underneath him, and me underneath Pam.

“ What? ” I muttered out loud, to myself. Maybe it wasn’t updated—no, it appeared to have been updated by Blake at seven that morning.

Oh, no.

I dropped my hands to the desk. What did that mean? He was my boss again? If he was, did that mean we were done? Finished after two days?

Why had it changed? Why hadn’t he told me?

I pulled out my phone—no messages, which wasn’t a surprise, since we didn’t really talk during business hours. But…what did it mean?

What was going through Blake’s mind?

I wished I could just text him and ask, but I didn’t want to interrupt his stressful day with self-centered questions about how it affected me.

Surely it was fine.

Surely he was on top of it.

I inhaled through my nose, forcing myself to relax. I trusted Blake, and that everything would work out.

I got lost in the reports after that, forgetting everything but work. Pam was in meetings somewhere else in the building, so it was easy to just fall into the work without interruptions. But when my stomach growled and I looked at the clock, my mind went right back to Blake. Because it was Monday—Caniglia’s food truck day.

I stood, grabbed my coat, and reached for my bag. He probably wouldn’t be there today, but if I happened upon him and we shared a lunch, perhaps he’d feel like enlightening me.

If not, I’d just stress eat until I puked.

···

Six o’clock.

I stared at the clock above my TV, still stuffed from the Blake-free stress eating. It was probably late enough to text him, right? He was most likely still at the office, but it was technically after the workday.

I texted, Are you still at work, Chest?

Blake: Yup

I didn’t like one-word answers with zero punctuation; that made me very nervous. I replied, Was the day as stressful as you thought it’d be?

Blake: Worse

I really, really, really needed an emoji or a superfluous exclamation point to reassure me that everything was fine. I texted, Well I’ll stop bugging you so you can leave .

Blake: Tks

I hated being that girl because I hated that girl, but staccato brevity wasn’t our normal mode of conversation. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he was distancing himself from me.

Especially when he hadn’t taken a break to have lunch at Caniglia’s or at least text me when he surely knew I was trudging toward an Italian feast.

I scarfed a piece of leftover pizza before going for a run with Josh, who was always willing to accompany me if it was getting too dark. Normally we both wore headphones and tuned each other out, but that night, I found myself totally unloading on him. I told him everything, mostly because I knew he liked Blake, so it felt safe to share with him.

But then he said, “Shit, Physical Challenge isn’t looking too good all of a sudden.”

“ What? ” I almost tripped and landed on my face when he very matter-of-factly said those words.

“Think about it,” he said, looking down at his Apple Watch. “Either Blake lied to you about the org chart to get in your pants over the weekend,” he started, making me roll my eyes at his disgustingness, “or he found out about the changes at work today and is freaking out and hoping you’ll let him go back to only being coworkers.”

“Those aren’t the only options,” I said defensively, because I’d been forcing myself not to think that very thing. “He could be so busy that he hasn’t had a chance to discuss this with me.”

“That doesn’t change what I said,” Josh replied in that know-it-all tone that made me want to slug him. An hour later, after I’d showered and had checked my phone fifteen times, his words kept replaying in my head.

And as much as I wanted to deny them, I couldn’t. Because regardless of what happened with the org chart, Blake was now my boss again, so it was incredibly possible that he would be ending our entanglement.

I finally gave in and texted a trivial, low-key message: The Darkling vomited on Josh’s couch and now he’s holding my pillows and blankets hostage until I pay to have it professionally cleaned .

It was true— that dick —and it was something that would amuse Blake.

But an hour later, still no message.

And that kind of pissed me off. I understood a stressful day, and I also understood that his obsession with ethics might prevent him from continuing our relationship, but he didn’t need to ghost me. I would’ve assumed our weekend had elevated us to a place where ghosting was no longer a possibility. He was obviously home from work by now and capable of using his huge fingers to smash out a polite response.

Asshole.

After putting in a few hours on the benefits paperwork, I plugged in my phone and went to bed. As I laid my head on a throw pillow from the sofa and covered myself with just the sheet (freaking Josh), I decided that if Blake texted me overnight, I didn’t even want to know. I put that thing on vibrate and turned off the lights.

Despite myself, I really wished I could vent about him to my best friend, Blake.

Blake

“What the fuck are you looking at?” I glared at the cats, who were huddled together on the couch and staring at me as if disappointed by my actions. I was sitting at my desk, sipping straight Scotch—as I had been since I’d arrived home—while trying to figure out how the hell I was going to proceed.

I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t. It went against my business principles, and surely Iz would understand that. She would, right? Izzy would totally understand.

I’d ignored her texts all night, though, because acting normal was impossible on the eve of her termination. I couldn’t in good conscience do the whole banter thing, laughing with her while knowing what was waiting for her the following morning.

So radio silence was my only option.

It was almost midnight, and I was still clueless as to what to do. Because if I continued to avoid her until after she was terminated, it’s not like she wouldn’t know that I’d known. She would know, and odds were high that she was going to be pissed that I hadn’t warned her or at the very least responded to her messages.

So what was my plan? Wait until I knew she’d left the building with her CObrA paperwork, then text, You up?

All I knew for certain was that I missed her. It’d only been twenty-four hours, yet I was dying to see her face and smell her hair and listen to her ridiculously amazing takes on the world.

Fuck it. Izzy was more important than ethics, God help me.

I picked up my phone and sent her a text: I really need to talk to you before work tomorrow. It’s important.