Chapter Thirty-Four
Blake
I pulled up in front of Izzy’s building, shut off the car, and texted, I have pizza, McDonald’s, flowers, a six-pack, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, a bottle of wine, and a thousand apologies. If you’ll let me come in, I’ll give you all of it.
She hadn’t responded to me since the night before, when I admitted I’d told Brad about us. And honestly—I couldn’t blame her for being pissed. I should’ve asked her permission before going to the top with our relationship, but I’d been so fucking desperate to somehow have both Izzy and my integrity that I’d been impulsive.
And I was never impulsive.
Although, to be fair, I felt wildly desperate and maniacally impulsive at the moment as I sat there in a car full of bribes and a gnawing in my gut that worsened every time my brain said, It’s too late—you’ve already lost her.
Lost her. As if I’d ever had her. I’d had a perfect weekend with her, but that was all.
I looked at her apartment window and didn’t even know if she was home. Her car was still at my shop, but she was also incredibly adept at finding alternate modes of transportation and weird ways to get herself where she needed to be.
I loved that about her. Shit. I just liked her so fucking much.
When Skye lied to me, I’d been pissed and disappointed and felt like an idiot.
But somehow today, the possibility that I might’ve lost the girl I’d only been friends with until a few days ago felt far more devastating than a lost fiancée.
I 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 I had the building code, but there was no way I’d be that creep who just let himself into someone else’s apartment.
I shifted the stack of stuff and hit the buzzer, but after three times, gave up. I lowered myself to the ground and sat, knowing that if I went back to work I’d just think about Izzy and accomplish nothing. I might as well wait for her.
She couldn’t be gone for that long, right? I stretched my legs out in front of me and settled in to wait her out.
···
“What the hell happened to you, Mr. Phillips?” Bob, the doorman, grinned and looked directly at my loosened tie, rolled-up shirtsleeves, and soaking wet dress shirt.
I just shook my head and kept walking.
Because I’d sat on Izzy’s stoop for two hours, like a chump, hoping that if I could just see her, just talk to her face-to-face, I could convince her.
But she never came home.
And I might’ve deluded myself into thinking maybe she wasn’t getting my messages, but right about the time it’d started raining, I’d seen conversation bubbles.
Finally, she was texting me back.
I’d stood there in the rain, my heart pounding out of my chest as I stared at my phone and waited for her words.
Only the words never came. The bubbles disappeared and she doubled down on her radio silence, which made me finally chuck everything into the dumpster and head home.
I was cold and fucking sad as I stepped into the elevator and rode up to my floor. It was barely five o’clock, but all I wanted to do was take a long, hot shower and fall into bed. I untucked my wet shirt and pulled off my tie, jamming it into my pocket as the doors opened and I stepped out.
I was on autopilot as I walked down the hallway, lost in my own head. A million miles away in my own pathetic thoughts.
I was so gone that I very nearly stepped on Izzy.
“Holy shit ,” I muttered, coming close to trudging right over her.
She was sitting in front of my 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.
I was scared it was a mirage as I lowered to my haunches. How was she there? Moments before, I’d been filled with disappointment and exhaustion, but now adrenaline was pumping through my veins and I was wide fucking awake.
Hyper-focused.
On her.
Her breathing was soft, and her vanilla scent made me breathe deeply as I looked at her face. I reached out a hand and traced the curve of her cheek with my fingertips. “Izzy.”
Her eyes fluttered open, bright and blue with butterfly-wing lashes, and she looked…introspective. Her eyes were everywhere on my face—my nose, my chin, my lips, my forehead—before she said, “Where the hell have you been?”