Page 39

FORTY

Ella

IT TAKES a lot for something to render me speechless. I was still able to talk after the Game of Thrones finale, so my threshold for shock is damn high. Blake’s blown that out of the fucking water. My brain is in overdrive trying to comprehend everything I just heard. I’m holding my phone in my hand like it’s a baby; I’m not quite sure what to do with it. Do I call Blake? Text him? Send a carrier pigeon? Or is he supposed to reach out to me? How does this whole thing work? My phone vibrates, interrupting my internal debate.

MOM

Can you grab the package at the front door? It can’t stay outside for too long. Thanks, honey.

My mom single-handedly keeps our FedEx delivery guy busy with all the online shopping she does. I rush over to the door, eager to get back to the couch and come up with a game plan. Murphy follows closely behind me, on high alert in case whoever’s at the door has a treat for him. Swinging the door open, I find Blake bundled up in a jacket. This is not the delivery I was expecting. He calmly waits for my mouth to stop opening and closing like a fish out of water. There are so many things I want to say and ask that I’m inarticulate.

Since I can’t speak, I launch myself into his arms, burying my face in his chest. The familiar smell of him envelops me. He stumbles back a few steps at the force of my embrace, quickly grounding himself and pulling me even closer against him. I lean back a minute later and study him. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well. If he’s been sleeping at all. Week-old stubble and tired eyes exacerbate his slightly disheveled appearance.

“You’re here,” is all I manage to get out.

“Surprise.” He chuckles, switching his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m the special delivery.”

“Hi,” I breathe out slowly. I drink in the sight of him. I’ve missed his intense brown eyes. The broadness of his shoulders. The sharp lines of his jaw. I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

“Hey,” he says back. My stomach does more flips than Simone Biles at the Olympics. “Can we go inside?”

I nod dumbly and step back to let him into the house, shivering at the cool blast of air that sneaks inside. Murphy barks excitedly, running around Blake in rapid circles. He’s the worst guard dog ever.

“Hey, little guy,” Blake says, bending over to scratch Murphy behind his ears. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

“You’re here,” I repeat, still dumbstruck. “In my house … with a beard.”

“Quite the investigative journalist.” Blake absentmindedly strokes his chin. “I figured we should talk … and I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I say without hesitation. “A lot.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as his lips curl into a smile.

“Let’s chat on the couch.” Blake shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack next to the front door. “More comfortable.”

He walks to the family room like he’s been here a million times before. The two of us sit down, sinking into the couch’s comfy cushions. We both start speaking, ending in overlapping awkward chuckles.

“You first,” Blake offers. His fingers tap against his thighs faster than I can type.

“It’s … it’s been really hard dealing with everything,” I start, my voice unusually quiet. “Especially without you.”

“I’m so—”

“I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, Blake,” I cut him off mildly. “I’m not mad about that. I mean, I am—you’re an idiot and definitely shouldn’t have done that—but I know you weren’t doing it maliciously. You were put in a shitty position and I know I’d try to protect you in the same way. Maybe not so publicly, but still.”

“I am a bloody fucking idiot,” he says simply.

“Yeah,” I agree, “but you just so happen to be my idiot.”

“You have no idea how sorry I am.” Blake’s eyes dart to meet mine, his pupils dilated. “I’m the reason the world knows what you went through. You trusted me and I royally blew it. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you.”

“I watched that art forgery documentary you told me about,” I blurt out. “I thought it was really good.”

Blake runs his fingers through his hair and glances around like he’s looking for answers. I’m sure he thinks I’m off my rocker with that sudden topic change. “Glad you liked it, love.”

“Do you think the gallery owner knew what was going on?”

“Oh, for sure.” He nods animatedly. “There’s no way they couldn’t have known.”

Yep. That’s what I thought, too. I tuck my hair behind my ears, trying to work out the best way to explain my feelings. “I guess the point I’m trying to make is that there’s no one else I’d watch an art documentary for. Even though I was upset with you, I still watched it because I knew how much you liked it. I wanted to be able to talk to you about it. Relationships are hard and messy, and we’re both going to fuck up and make mistakes. That’s life. But no matter how complicated shit gets, it’s you I want by my side. It’s always going to be you, Blake.”

I can see the tension in his shoulders evaporating at my words.

“I love you, by the way,” I add, not wanting to forget the most important part. In retrospect, I realize I should’ve led with that. “A lot.”

Blake inhales sharply as a flush creeps up his neck. “You what?”

“I love you,” I repeat. The words taste sweet as they roll off my tongue. “I’m desperately, wildly, hopelessly, and crazily in love with you.”

He echoes it back, making sure he’s hearing me correctly. I watch him as the words sink in and it’s the purest thing I’ve ever seen.

“I love you, too.” His eyes focus intently on mine, and I’ve never felt more exposed without losing a single piece of clothing. “We’ll get through this together, okay? I made a wreck out of things but I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“Pinky promise?”

Blake interlocks our pinkies together. “Pinky promise, baby.”

I always thought love was supposed to be flowers and candlelit dinners, but it’s not. It’s watching documentaries that bore me to tears just because Blake likes them. It’s him ordering waffles when he wants eggs just so I can have a bite. It’s fighting over who gets the right side of the bed and leaving parties early to cuddle on the couch. It’s the big stuff and the little stuff and all the things in between.

“I listened to the podcast,” I continue, realizing we haven’t even talked about that . “It’s probably going to get the most downloads the show’s ever gotten.”

“Yeah? What’d you think?”

“As far as apologies go, it’s a twelve out of ten.” I nod in approval. “I can’t believe you talked about your anxiety and your parents. I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah, well, love makes you do crazy shit, doesn’t it?” he says with an unabashed grin.

The butterflies in my stomach settle down, safe in the knowledge that I get to tell this man I love him for the rest of my life.

“I think it’s worth whatever chaos it causes,” I murmur, clasping my hands behind his neck.

His lips brush against mine, soft at first, then rougher and hungrier as I open my mouth to him. The feel of him alone scorches fire through my veins. Weeks apart have made us both desperate, fumbling with need. I moan into his mouth as he grabs my hips and grinds into me. I want to be consumed by this man, by his hands, by his tongue. I curl my fingers into his messy brown hair, tugging until he releases a low growl.

“Not to ruin the mood,” Blake murmurs as my lips move down his neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin, “but Murphy’s staring at me and it’s making me quite uncomfortable.”

The ridiculousness of his statement makes me collapse against him. I turn around and notice Murphy sitting a few feet away from the couch, staring at Blake like he’s the enemy.

“It’s because you didn’t give him a treat.”

I tell Blake where the pantry is so he can get one. While he’s getting on my dog’s good side, I shoot my mom a quick text to let her know that her package arrived. I’m not surprised she’s known Blake’s plan for the past week, considering how buddy-buddy the two of them are thanks to Facebook Messenger.

Blake gives Murphy the treat before sitting back down next to me on the couch. Resting his hand on my lower back, I lean into his touch.

“When do you think your parents will be home?” he asks, shaking his leg. “Soon?”

A loud snort escapes before I can stop it. I straddle his lap, grinning at his nervousness.

“Why is that funny?” Blake asks, massaging the back of his neck. “I don’t think officially meeting your parents with a hard-on is going to score me brownie points.”

“We’re two grown adults acting like horny teenagers at my parents’ house, nervous about getting caught.” I wrap my arms around his neck and swivel my hips, feeling him grow hard beneath me. “It’s like high school all over again.”

He presses his lips against my forehead. “I never did the whole high school experience, love.”

“Making out like a horny teenager? Or trying not to get caught?”

“Both.”

“I’m more than happy to teach you,” I offer. “But there’s no need to worry right now. They won’t be home for another hour.”

“In that case … ” He slides his hands down until he’s cupping my butt. “Where’s your room? I’d like to properly show you how goddamn much I love you, Ella Gold.”