You know when something seems too good to be true, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming? This is totally one of those moments. Using the nails of my thumb and index finger, I squeeze at the skin of my thigh. “Ouch!” Definitely not dreaming then, and yet all of my dreams are coming true.

I quickly set an alarm on my phone to make sure I’m up before Tatum. The last thing I want is for her to wake up scared. I grab my spare charger from my bag and plug my phone in.

I toss and turn for a few minutes, unable to find sleep. Restless and overly excited, I slide out of my bed and creep down the hall to check on my sweet girl. I’m relieved to find her curled up in a ball and snoring like an old man.

Back in the guest room, I crawl under the covers and will my mind to shut down. Finally, after what feels like forever, sleep takes me.

I wake feeling more relaxed and rested than I’ve felt in a long time. A quick glance at my phone tells me why. It’s nine-thirty—well past the time I set my alarm for.

As fast as I can, I step into my shorts and dash toward Tatum’s room. But she’s not there. I fly down the stairs, only to come up short at the sight of Tatum and her daddy in the kitchen cooking up a feast.

I stay put in the shadows, observing them together, my heart swelling with emotion. Their relationship is so effortless. I can only hope mine and Alden’s will be the same.

At the sound of their combined laughter, I step into the room. “I see y’all got the party started without me.”

“We’s not at a party. We’s making breakfast. Pamcakes!”

“Ooh, I love pancakes. What kind?”

“All da kinds!” Tatum gleefully yells.

“And by that, she means, banana walnut, chocolate chip, and old-fashioned buttermilk.” He waves his arms Vanna-White-style toward the island. “In the way of toppings, we have sliced bananas, freshly made whipped cream, and strawberries.”

“Y’all went all out, huh?”

“Yes! Daddy said we was gonna make it for you and surprise you in bed. But, you waked up.”

“Breakfast in bed, really?”

“Thought you might enjoy being taken care of for once.” Swear to God, I’m a puddle of swoon at this man’s feet. “I heard your alarm going off, and I might have turned it off and woke Tatum up. Hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Well, you aren’t gonna hear me complain. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in.”

“You deserve it, Nat. Now, let’s eat!”

We dig in, each of us choosing a different flavor. I go for the banana walnut, Tatum obviously devours the chocolate chip topped with whipped cream, and Alden opts for the buttermilk doused in syrup and covered with strawberries. All in all, it’s been the perfect morning, and if I play my cards right, there will be a lot more of them.

The rest of the day is spent poolside, breaking only for lunch—grilled cheese and tomato soup. We swim and soak up the sun until it starts to dip below the horizon.

Alden makes good on his promise of wooing me. So much so that here we are, two weeks out from what I like to call Remembrance Day, and he’s just now taking me out on our first real, official date.

Now, that’s not to say that just because we haven’t had our date yet that he hasn’t been wooing me. Because, sweet baby Jesus, he has. From fresh coffee waiting for me on my opening shifts, to shoulder rubs, and even a spa day, that man has been wooing my socks off.

Our dateless status is not from lack of trying, either. He’s been slammed at work, trying his hardest to revive our sweet little café, and my class load has been kicking my ass—who knew accounting was so damn hard? The only highlight in all of this is even though we’re moving at a snail’s pace, he’s still a regular fixture in my and Tatum’s lives.

Any time I need a little extra help—and even when I don’t—he’s there. We eat dinner together most nights—sometimes at my place and sometimes a quick bite at the café. Lord knows Tatum thinks going to Mama and Daddy’s work is the best thing ever.

But back to the date thing. I’ve cycled through every outfit in my closet. Usually I would break out my trusty wrap dress, but maybe on this first date, I do want to put out. I’m in a downward spiral of fashion despair when my doorbell rings.

“Come in,” I holler, knowing good and well it’s Jenny. Since I’m still not on the best of terms with my parents, and Nate’s still working nights, she agreed to keep Tatum for us tonight.

Jenny’s cheery voice fills my apartment as she greets Tatum. “Hey Lil Mama!”

“I’s not a mama!” Tatum informs her, mild toddler outrage coloring her tone.

“My bad. Are you excited for us to hang out tonight?”

I can’t see my daughter, but I can vividly picture her reaction. Most likely she’s tapping her pointer finger against the sweet, little dimple in her chin pondering the question.

“That a’pends. Will you paint my fingernails? Can we have dessert first? And can we watch Trolls?”

“I will even paint your little piggies. No ma’am, dinner first. And you betcha.”

It’s quiet for a minute and then Tatum says, “Two outta free, not bad. Oh. You go helps Mama?”

“Help your mama with what?”

“Her says she has nothing to wear, but Miss Jenny, her has lots of clothes. Not as much as me, but lots!”

Jenny laughs. “I’ll get her sorted. Maybe you can think about whatcha want to eat?”

“You can cook?”

“Lord no, but I can order takeout like a boss.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Jenny laughs again as she makes her way down the hall to my room. At the sight of damn near every stitch of clothing I own strewn across the room, she doesn’t even blink. Nope. She just sets to work organizing it and creating outfit choices out of items I would have never ever thought of pairing together.

I watch in awed silence as she works until she has three outfits laid out on the bed for me. The first one being a flouncy, burgundy-colored chiffon skirt with a black button-down blouse. The second is a little slip dress I forgot I even owned. It’s a silky emerald green and shorter than sin. The third is by far the most out of my comfort zone, which is saying a lot seeing as number two looks like sexy pajamas. Somehow Jenny managed to find an old crop top of mine that I only wear when I’m cleaning and has paired it with a pair of pale pink, high-waisted linen shorts.

“The first is really cute,” I murmur, my eyes straying back to option number three.

“It is,” she agrees. “But let’s start with this little number.” She grabs the shorts and crop top and shoves them into my arms and then me into the bathroom. “Get changed, babe. Now.”

I do as she says because, at this point, someone else calling the shots is a weight off my chest. I’m already clad in sexy undies—not that he’ll be seeing them, but a girl can hope. I slide my legs into the shorts and pull them up, instantly appreciating how the rise accentuates my waistline.

It’s the crop top that has me out of sorts. It’s almost cut like an elongated sports bra, stopping at the bottom of my rib cage. Due to the cut, an actual bra is out of the question. Hope he doesn’t take me anywhere chilly.

All in all, the outfit is good. It doesn’t show nearly as much skin as I was imagining—just a sliver of my abdomen. Feeling inspired, I quickly turn on my curling iron, tease my crown, toss my hair into a low pony and curl the ends. After that, I dust on some bronzer, apply a hint of eyeliner, coat my lashes in mascara and gloss my lips. Hell yeah. I’d do me.

I step out, and Jenny appraises me like I’m a piece of art and she’s a critic. I’m worried she hates it but said worry dissolves when a brilliant grin splits her cheeks. “Yesss! Bow to your queen!”

I give her a little bow and we both giggle.

“Now you need to accessorize.” A statement necklace and a few bangles later, I’m just about ready. I cross the room to my closet in search of the perfect shoes, settling on a pair of nude-colored wedges.

“Are you meeting him or is he picking you up?” Jenny asks, as Tatum barrels into the room.

“Mama! You look so pretty. But why your tummy showing?”

Her question catches me totally off guard. Luckily, Jenny answers for me. “Because she’s a grownup and wants it to.”

“Can I show off my tummy when I grow’d up?”

“As long as you’re over eighteen, go for it, kid.”

“Yay!” Just as quickly as she entered, Tatum exits the room in a tornado of excitement.

We both laugh and then I say, “And to answer your question, he wanted to pick me up, but I figured it would be confusing for Tatum if I went somewhere with her daddy and left her behind…”

“Ah. Smart, Mama.” She ushers me toward the door. “Have fun. We’ll call if we need you.”

On the way out the door, I stop and pepper my girl with kisses, hugging her tight. “I love you, Tater Tot. Be good for Miss Jenny?”

“I always good Mama.”

I smile and give her one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And with that, I’m out the door and on my way to my first real date with the father of my child.