love came calling, twice // olly murs

33.

Six weeks later.

"Would you stop!" Amelia cried as the flash of the camera blurred her eyes and her hands shot up to cover her face. "You're acting like the paparazzi or something absurd!"

Olly lowered his camera, smiling brightly at her. "I can't help it!" he whined. "You're just so pretty I want to capture every single second on film." The two of them were situated in the front yard, Amelia suddenly having decided she wanted to plant even more flowers in the garden and Olly deciding that he wanted to talk even more pictures of her.

Amelia rolled her eyes and brushed her hand over her face, streaking smudges of dirt along the bridge of her nose. "That sounds a little bit creepy, just so you know."

Olly laughed and came to sit behind her, nuzzling her neck with his nose. "You love it."

She let out a scoff. "How do you know?" she said, bending down to her flowers, arranging the dirt around them carefully. "I could be getting really irritated by it. I could be wanting you and your camera to go and shove it."

Olly bit back a smile, feigning hurt. "You don't mean that, do you?" he asked, running a hand through her dark curls.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm one step away from meaning it." She shifted on the ground and brought her gloved hand to her face again, smudging more dirt on her skin. "Besides, why would you want to take pictures of me like this? I'm all sweaty and dirty."

Olly smirked and pushed her hair over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "When you put it that way," he said, pausing to kiss her neck again, "how could I not want to?"

"You, Mr. Murs," she said, turning to face him, "Are distracting me from my gardening." she looked at him pointedly. "What would your mother say?"

Leaning down, Olly pressed a quick smoochie to her lips. "She would say thank god you finally found someone to distract and hurry up with the grandchildren already."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up, taken aback by his comments. Every once in a while, he said something that made her realize the full capacity of their situation. She was in a relationship with Olly Murs, the man she had hated. The man who, despite everything, had loved her for three years.

How in the world had she gotten here?

After Olly had confessed his feelings for her, Amelia had been more than a little shocked. Suddenly, though, everything had made sense, from his eyes on her at the wedding while she danced with Tom, to the way he had tried to stop her from ruining her old wedding dress, to the fact that he was always careful to never say he hated her.

Then there was his kindness towards her, every single sweet thing he had done for her. He had loved her through it all. God, how could she have been so blind?

Tom, she thought bitterly. God, it was getting more and more difficult not to hate him. Had he ever really loved her? He had wasted three years of her life and had he not been so insistant, such a collywobblepy friend at that wedding, maybe she would have given Olly a chance.

Really, though, Amelia knew she was grasping at ways not to blame herself. In the end, she had treated Olly poorly and she hadn't given him a second glance at the wedding. Looking at him now, she wondered how she had been able to do so. He stood before her dressed in a black t-shirt that showed off his defined arms and chest and a pair of light wash jeans, his trilby, absent. She reached up and touched her head where it sat. She didn't wear it often, but every once in a while, he'd tug it over her eyes and she'd leave it there, happy with the comfortable warmth that it brought from both the memories of her dreams, and the wonder of her new reality.