Submerged(Bound Together Book 1)(24)
“Hi,” he says with a polite smile as he sets the little boy down to play.
“Hello,” I reply before grabbing the block Natalia is about to put in her mouth. Who knows where that block has been?
“You’re Carly, right?” he asks as he sits down in one of the comfy chairs across from me.
“I am,” I say incredulously. I noticed he was good looking when he walked in, but now that he’s sitting full-on in front of me, this guy is gorgeous. His light brown eyes are sparkling and his hair has that tussled, yet stylish look with just a slight curl to the ends. He’s wearing a plain green polo shirt tucked into pressed Dockers. My heart rate actually kicks up a few beats. “How did you know?”
“Oh,” he starts but then looks down at the little boy playing with a large fire truck. It takes him a few seconds before he finishes. “I kinda asked around a few weeks back when you were here.” I’m pretty sure I blush ten shades of pink at his admission.
“Oh,” I say shyly, looking back down at Natalia who is now trying to take the fire truck away from the young boy. “Is this your son?” I ask as I try to gently pry my daughter away from the little boy’s toy.
“Yeah, this is Liam. He just turned four. Oh, and I’m Bill,” he says, extending his hand forward for me to shake.
“Carly,” I say and then realize my mistake. “But I guess you already know that,” I add with another blush and a smile.
“Yeah, well you are the prettiest girl in church, and I just needed to know your name.” His confession hits me square in the gut. He thinks I’m pretty? God, I haven’t felt pretty in I don’t know how long. Actually, I do know, but I’m determined not to think about that night right now.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“So, I know we just met and everything, but would you like to have coffee with me sometime?” he asks, his handsome face radiating tepidness and hope. Part of me wants to say no. Am I ready to date? Is this a date? Coffee is a date, right?
Oh hell…
The other part of me really wants to say yes. I’ve been stuck living one certain day over and over again for too long; like the movie “Groundhog Day,” I just can’t seem to get out of the rut. Blake is never coming back. He made that clear the night we spent together, so there’s nothing wrong with me finally moving on. Moving forward. That’s what I want. I want to move forward, and for the first time, I feel like I might be ready to take that step.
So without giving it another thought, I look up at him and say, “Sure.”
“Really?” he asks, seeming surprised by my acceptance of his invitation.
“Yeah, I’d love to have coffee with you,” I say as Natalia starts to throw building blocks at Liam. “Natalia, no no,” I chastise in a forceful voice.
“Oh, I remember that age. Wait until she hits two. If you still have hair by the time she reaches three, three and a half, consider yourself lucky,” he says with a laugh, earning one from me in return.
“Well, you have great hair so you must have fared well enough.”
“It’s all an illusion. Liam and I barely made it through.” The far-off look he gets makes me want to ask him to elaborate, but before I can, the door opens and my mom walks in. She seems awfully happy to see me sitting with Bill while our kids tear up the room around us.
“Hi,” I say, trying to keep her attention to me and not towards Bill.
“Hello,” Mom says to me before turning towards the man sitting across from me. “I’m Georgia.”
“Bill Adler, and this is my son, Liam.”
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Bill. And I see you’ve met my daughter, Carly?” she asks, stepping next to me with a weird smile on her face. I know that smile. Her mind is working overtime at something, and I’m sure it has everything to do with Bill. She probably has me married off and pregnant again in her mind right now.
“I have finally had the pleasure of meeting Carly,” Bill says. “And I hope to see you all again soon,” he adds before helping Liam pick up the toys he got out. I do the same, though it appears I’m putting quite a bit more away than he is. Natalia is a terror.
When we have the room picked back up as best as we can, Bill turns back toward me and pulls the cell phone from his pocket. He starts typing before handing me the small device. I take that as my cue to fill in my personal contact information. I hesitate, but only for a few seconds. Step one in moving on: give a good-looking guy your phone number.