Alden’s question plays on a loop in my mind. I know he’s right and that she needs to know. I also know the longer I put it off, the more his resentment will grow. So, guess it’s time to buck up.

“We can tell her next time we’re all together. Does that sound good?”

His jaw drops, and he blinks as if stunned by my response. “R-really?”

“Yeah, Alden. Really. You’re her father—and a damn good one. She deserves to know.”

For the first time since all of this started—well, other than our brief kiss in his office when he read the paternity test results—Alden initiates physical contact between us, scooting down to my end of the couch and bear-hugging me. “Thank you so much.” His breath is hot on my neck, and chill bumps cover my body.

I start to squirm out of his hold, but I’m rendered motionless at the feel of his stubble against my skin. His lips quickly follow as he softly kisses my neck. His touch is almost worshipful, so soft but strong, all at once.

I’m almost too scared to move as he drags his lips higher, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath my ear. I can’t help but groan at the heady mix of pleasure with a touch of pain. Alden growls at the sound, and before I know it, he has me laid back on the couch and he’s nestled between my legs, his lips sliding against mine as his tongue begs for entry.

My body decides before my brain to simply roll with it, and I open to him as I run my fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends as he sucks on my lower lip. We kiss and carry on like two horny teenagers until my hips shift restlessly against his. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me this way…I honestly think I could come just from this.

Which explains my pathetic, kicked-puppy-sounding whimper when he pulls away. “Jesus, Nat.”

I stare at him dazedly, my brain far too foggy to come up with a reply.

Naturally, he finds this to be hilarious. “Cat got your tongue?”

I can feel the blush staining my cheeks. “Something like that.”

Teasing me, he rolls his hips, and I let out the most embarrassing sound. I want to smack the smirk off of his face as he moves completely off of me and to a sitting position.

An awkward silence falls over the room. Suddenly, I’m unsure of how to act, much less what to say. I settle with an eloquent, “So…”

Which Alden echoes back. “So…”

“Jesus, this is awkward.” I mutter the words to myself, but of course he hears me.

“It doesn’t have to be, Small Fry.”

“But…it is. You k-kissed me.”

Alden nods. “I did. And I liked it. It felt…natural. Right.”

I look down at my lap, feeling all kinds of different ways. When I don’t reply, he reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Hey, I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—” I break off, trying to find the right words. “Complicated. It’s complicated.” Really, that’s the best word, because how else do I explain that my feelings for him never faded, and that he’s always been my gold standard, and that no other guy has ever measured up? Not to mention, I don’t want things between us to get messy and have it affect Tatum. So, yeah, complicated.

“Right.” He swallows roughly before changing the subject. “Maybe y’all can come to my place for dinner one night?”

“That…that sounds good.”

Alden beams his pearly whites at me, and once again my heart pangs, knowing all I have deprived him—and Tatum—of. He rises from the couch, and I do too. Together we walk to the door, where things once again turn awkward. After practically dry humping on the couch, do we hug? Shake hands? Nothing at all? I’m too busy overthinking it when he makes the decision for the both of us, hugging me close and placing a feather-soft kiss to my forehead.

He’s out the door before I can even process everything that just happened. And my God, it’s a lot to process. Wine! I think. Wine will help.

I return to the couch, drink in hand, just in time to hear my phone ding. It’s a text. From him.

I gulp down half of my glass and reply.

He doesn’t reply after that, and that’s okay; we’ve said all we need to—for now.

Thirty minutes later, Tatum is still napping. Normally, I wouldn’t let her sleep so long, but she’s had a big day, and honestly, I need some time to myself.

Sinking back into the couch, I relish in the peace and quiet—until the sound of my phone ringing cuts through the air. A quick glance at the screen shows my mom’s name. We’ve chatted a few times here and there since all of this happened, but my dad and I have yet to talk, which freaking kills me.

Not in the mood to deal with her, I send the call to voicemail. But she’s persistent and calls right back. I swipe my thumb across the screen. “Hey Mom.”

“Natalie.” My name comes out as more of a sigh than a greeting.

“What’s up?” I ask, already feeling exasperated. I get that I let everyone down, but at this point, I feel like my parents need to accept what happened and move on. Every time my mom and I talk, it feels like we’re both walking on eggshells.

“Oh, your dad and I just wanted to check in.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t speak for Dad when we both know he hasn’t made an effort to speak to me since everything went down at Bayside.”

“Your father loves you, Nat. He’s just struggling.”

“He’s struggling? Really?” I count down from ten in an effort to not flip my shit. “I get that me being a teen mom was hard for y’all. I get me refusing to name the father was hard for y’all. But guess what? It. Was. Hard. For. Me. Too!

“I freaking lived it. Every day, I lived it. And I know I made mistakes and messed up, but I’m doing my best to right my wrongs in a way that’s best for Tatum. Because here’s the thing: she comes first. Now and always. Dad can either decide to forgive me and accept things for what they are or not—I’m not going to beg. But, Mom, I will not let this drama affect my daughter—your granddaughter—and y’all shouldn’t, either.”

Mom’s quiet for a long time, and patiently, I wait her out. Finally, she says, “Okay Natalie. Okay,” and ends the call. I’m not sure which part of my tirade she’s okaying, but whatever. I’ll take it. Okay is better than nothing, I guess.

As the week progresses, work, home, and school all run smoothly—even things with Alden seem to be looking sunny. You know, aside from lingering glances and a crackling sexual tension that we’re both determined to ignore. Which is why my defenses are up—I’ve learned by now that anytime life looks this bright, I should expect a black cloud to dump rain on me, pronto.

Or maybe it’s just nerves over our dinner at Alden’s tonight. Nerves over telling Tatum who he is. Yeah, that’s probably it. “C’mon Tater Tot! It’s time to go,” I say, poking my head into her room.

Only she’s not there.

Panic rushes through me, and I holler her name, sprinting from her room.

Relief fills my lungs just as quickly when I find her sitting on the floor at the front door. “I’s been ready,” she states in that no-nonsense way of hers. “I’s been waiting on you!”

“You scared me, Tater Tot. Why didn’t you answer me when I called for you?”

“You said we not yell through the house. I sorry.”

I crouch down and kiss her pudgy cheek, unable to argue with her logic. “It’s okay, baby. Let’s go. I bet your—Alden made us something tasty.”

The drive from our apartment to his house is quick—he lives much closer than I realized—walking distance, in good weather. His house is a split-level white brick ranch with a yard so picture-perfect the Cleavers would be jealous.

Tatum and I walk up the little stepping stone path that leads from the driveway to the front porch. Well, I walk; Tatum runs. Her little fist is pounding on the beautiful blue door before I even make it halfway. Needless to say, the kid is excited.

The door swings open, and a very nervous-looking Alden appears. I’ve never in my life seen the man look more frazzled. Tatum flings herself into his arms, and right before my very eyes, his stress melts away. It’s beautiful and completely reaffirms it’s time to tell her. So, those rainy clouds I was worrying about can take a hike because tonight is going to be nothing but rainbows and happy tears.

Reminiscent of his first time at our house, I have to ask if he’s going to invite us in. Which he promptly does, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, making him look younger than he is.

“What you cooks us?” Tatum asks, smelling the air like a dog sniffing out its dinner. “It smells like pizza.”

Alden reaches a hand over his left shoulder, rubbing at the space between his shoulder blades. “Ah, about that. It is pizza. I planned on grilling steaks, but they…didn’t turn out.”

Oh, my. I might just die from the cuteness. “Alden Warner, did you get nervous and burn our dinner?”

He studies his feet like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe.”

“Ha!” My laugh bubbles up and out before I can stop it. He glares at me for about two seconds before he starts laughing, too.

Meanwhile, Tatum’s looking at the two of like we’re insane. “Peoples! Pizza is no laughing matter. My tummy wants it! Now!”

“Yeah, true that,” Alden agrees, hoisting her up and flying her, airplane-style, all the way to the kitchen.

We waste no time digging into the gloriously cheesy pie. We’re all on our second slice when I decide it’s time.

“Tater Tot, there’s something we want to tell you.”

“Der is? What?” She takes another bite, cheese stringing from her lip down to the slice on her plate.

Alden reaches over and severs it, leaving Tatum to happily slurp it up into her mouth. “What, Mama? What!”

“We wanted to say…to tell you that…um.” Alden trips over his words in the most endearing way.

Tatum though, she’s fed up with waiting. “You Mama’s boyfriend now?”

“No!” Alden rushes out, his eagerness to correct her is a small arrow to my heart. “No, pretty girl. That’s not it.” Guess I’m good enough to kiss but not to date. The thought invades my mind uninvited, but I send it packing. Tonight is not about me.

Tatum pouts and her shoulders slump forward. “Why does that make you so sad, Tater Tot?” I ask.

“A’cause if Alden was you boyfriend, he could be my daddy.”

We both inhale sharply. All this time, I thought Tatum was content—happy with it being just the two of us. The knowledge of all that I’ve truly deprived her of is another arrow to my heart, only this one splinters and embeds itself into the very core of the muscle.

“I am.” Alden chokes out the words. “I am your daddy.”

Tatum swivels to face him so fast her movement is a blur. With her eyes wide and her heart on her sleeve, she asks, “You are? For reals?”

“Yeah, pretty girl, for really reals.”

She shoves her chair back from the table so hard it topples over, but that doesn’t stop her. She’s on a mission—and that mission is to hug her dad. She flings herself onto his lap and wraps her arms and legs around him in a monkey hold.

He hugs her close and presses his lips to the top of her head. I feel like I’m intruding on a magical but private moment, so quietly, I excuse myself and retreat to the kitchen. But as I go, I hear my girl whisper through her happy tears, “I lub you, Daddy Alden. A lot.”

Tears wet my cheeks as I cry silently. I’m not sad. I’m happy—so incredibly happy. And remorseful. And full of regret. It’s funny how back then, I was so convinced I was doing the right thing…how I planned this all out to make sense in my mind. But, we know what they say about the best-laid plans.

The sound of their muffled talking floats into the kitchen. I’m tempted to listen in, but I know that this is their time. Still, the temptation is strong. In an effort to fight it, I let myself out onto the back porch.

But the nighttime silence is too much. I need a distraction. Fumbling, I slide my phone from my back pocket and dial my brother. No answer—duh, he was switched to night shifts last week. Unsure of who else to call, I find myself scrolling to Jenny’s contact info. I hit the green button, and she answers on the first ring.

“Nat! Hey girl!”

“H-hey.” My voice breaks.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I sniffle. “Everything.”

“Nat, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

“S-sorry. It’s just…” More sniffles. “It’s just too much, you know?”

“No babe. I don’t know, because I have no clue as to what you’re talking about.” We’re both quiet for a moment. “But…something tells me this is about Alden.”

At the sound of his name, a small sob breaks free, and I slide down the side of the house until my ass hits the wood of the porch. “We told Tatum tonight.” Since the entire café knows our drama, that’s all I have to say. Jenny remains quiet as if she knows I have more to get off of my chest. “He’s such a g-good man, Jenny. He’s stepped into his role as Tatum’s d-dad like a duck to water. He’s so kind and compassionate and just…good. Even with my bullshit and lies, he’s k-kind to me. He sh-should hate me for keeping his daughter from him.”

I’m mortified by the words falling from my lips, but I can’t seem to stop. “I thought I was d-doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting him. But I was selfish and stupid. I took so much from them.” My words dry up as my tears fall harder.

“Babe, I’m gonna stop you right there. From what I’ve gathered here, you were still a kid. We all do stupid shit that seems smart when we’re young—learning from our mistakes is how we gain wisdom. And sure, he missed out the first couple of years, but they have their entire lives together ahead of them. You’re a good woman, and a good mother, and Alden forgives you because he can sense that. Just breathe, sweetie.”

Her words are just the balm I needed. They wrap around me and soothe my hurt. “I…thank you, Jenny. Sorry to dump on you like that.”

“No problem, babe. But know this—my ass just got promoted from your work wife to your real-life bestie. Deal with it.”

Her sassiness turns my cries into laughter. She’s the exact medicine I needed. “I can handle that.”

“Wasn’t asking. Talk later. Oh, and Nat…you’ve got this.” She ends the call, and I lean my head back against the side of the house, staring up at the twinkling stars in the night sky. Is Jenny right? Do I got this? I sure hope so.