So that’s why I woke up this morning I made a promise to myself. I have exactly three weeks to tell him. In three weeks, I finally get to find out if I’m having a boy or girl, and I feel like Asher needs to be a part of that. He needs to know so that he has time to decide if he even wants to be part of that.
God, I hope he does.
Of course, today isn’t going to be that day. I promised Dee that I would try one more date before I gave up on it for a while. The last idiot I attempted to go out on a date with showed up with a car so full of trash that I couldn’t even make out where he was sitting. I wasn’t even sure how he was able to drive that damn thing. There was trash for days—clothes, bedding… Hell, I think he had food stuck to his windshield. Of course, that should have been the first clue that I needed to run. He got out, walked around the car, and gave me a huge hug. The only thing I noticed was the overwhelming stench.
So… I proceeded to vomit all over his feet. His socks—with holes—and-sandals-wearing feet.
And the worst part was that he didn’t even seem to mind. He smiled, half of his teeth missing, and tried to kiss me!
Needless to say, I all but ran back to my car and hauled ass out of the parking lot. I had to pull over twice to strip the clothes from my body and frantically brush ants off of me.
And then I shamelessly ran back through the lobby of my apartment, past a blushing Joe, and straight to my place—where I took the hottest shower I could safely have while trying to talk myself out of a bleach scrub.
So this afternoon is it. If this date is another date from hell, I’m done.
I wisely told Dee that this date was going to be a lunch date; that way, if it turned out to be another disaster, I wouldn’t have to have my whole night ruined. I talked to date number three, Phillip, on the phone last night. He seemed pleasant enough. Very polite and soft-spoken. He didn’t refer to himself with any weird nicknames, and most importantly, he knew that I was pregnant and didn’t seem to have a single issue with it.
Famous last words, it seems.
Pulling up outside the local burger hot spot, I immediately see him standing against the wall next to the front entrance, our designated meeting spot. He has the tall, sleek build of a runner. Slim hips, flat stomach, and strong shoulders. His hair is clipped short—just enough length for me to run my fingers through his blond locks. I can’t see his eyes from here, but if I remember from the terribly grainy picture he sent me, they’re a warm hazel.
I take in his straight-laced clothes—typical country-club-type polo and dress slacks, all the way down to his loafers.
Okay, that might be a point in the negative column. I’m so used to looking at the guys in their tough-guy boots that loafers throw me off for a second.
Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I climb out of the car and make sure that my clothes are in order. It’s harder these days to find things that don’t show off my stomach. I decided to go with a nice pair of black slacks and a loose-fitting blouse. Nothing that draws attention to my growing stomach.
“Chelcie?” he questions when I get closer. His friendly, open face lights up when he spots me.
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Phillip.” I go to offer my hand, but he pulls me into a friendly hug. Errr…okay, maybe another negative. I don’t hug.
I awkwardly pat his back a few times and pray that he isn’t going to keep me in this hug crap for too long.
“Not a hugger, huh?” he laughs, pulling away with his warm smile still in place.
Well, thank God I didn’t offend him. So far, so good.
“Yeah, sorry. Must be weird being on the other end of an anti-hug person.”
We both laugh and make our way into the restaurant.
It doesn’t take long to get a table, and for once, there isn’t any awkward silence or overly flirtatious behavior with the staff. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say.
“So, Phillip, tell me a little about yourself. You mentioned that you own a construction company?” I grab my water and take a sip, waiting for him to answer. I’m shocked that I’m actually enjoying myself.
“Please call me Phil. My father is Phillip, and I feel like I need to have a sweater vest on when people call me by my full name.” He flashes his bright, white teeth when he smiles at me. Damn, he might be as close to perfect as I’m going to find. “Or then again, it could be my mother yelling at me.” He laughs at his own joke, and I smile, waiting for him to continue. “I opened up my company about ten years ago. I worked through college building houses, and it just seemed like the right thing for me. I knew what I was doing and had years of connections to get the jobs done cheap. We do everything from small home repairs to complete demo and remodels. It’s fun, and I love working with my hands. Just kind of fit.”
“It must be impossible to work in the Georgia heat during the summers. I couldn’t imagine working outdoors. But then again, I pretty much sprint from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned car when it goes over eighty.”
“It’s definitely not a walk in the park, that’s for sure. I’ve been lucky, and my company does well, so the majority of the heavy work I contract out. I spend most of my working hours in the office, telling others how to do their job.”
We’re interrupted for a second when our food arrives, and a comfortable silence settles around us. The noise of the other diners around us fills in the blank in conversation. We make eye contact a few times, his eyes heating with blatant desire.
“Do you mind me asking about the baby’s father? I don’t mean to overstep. I just want to know what I’m dealing with.” He actually blushes at that, and I can’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort in asking.
“I don’t mind. He…uh, he passed away earlier this year. It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, and unfortunately, I never had a chance to tell him.” I can feel the familiar tears burning my nose and threatening to fall from my eyes, but I quickly blink them back and push off the nagging guilt that my child’s father isn’t ever going to be here.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” His eyes flash with embarrassment and sympathy, and I reach out to grab his hand—reassuring him that he hasn’t offended me.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. I’ve had time to come to terms with it, and I’m excited for he or she to come.”
“I can imagine. I’ve got to say, if you hadn’t told me about the baby, I never would have guessed you were expecting.”
