Natalie has been a knot of tension and stress since telling me she wanted to have her parents over. I know they have a lot of shit to sort through and a lot that was left unresolved. So, I’m hoping this will be good for them and help get their relationship back on the right track.

In an effort to defuse a little tension, I told her to invite Jenny and Nate. She lit up at the suggestion, which made me feel all proud and caveman-y.

Currently, she’s in the kitchen obsessing over the sides she is making to go with my grilled chicken and sausage. She actually started prepping everything the night before at her place, and I swear, my eyes about my bugged out of my skull when she and Tatum got here this morning and she sent me to her car to help bring things in.

There is an apple crumb pie in the oven, along with scalloped potatoes. On the stove, she has homemade baked beans simmering and a pot of water boiling for her macaroni—she made the cheese sauce last night.

“Gonna go check the grill,” I call over my shoulder, Tatum following along behind me like a pint-sized shadow. But I don’t mind—I love that she wants to be around me, and I especially enjoy her enthusiasm for cooking. It’s almost crazy how much alike we are, even without her knowing me for most of her life.

“How you knows when it’s ready?” Tatum asks, standing on her tippy-toes in an effort to see.

“Careful, pretty girl. It’s hot.”

She watches with wide eyes as I hover my hand, palm side down, over the grate of the grill. “You be careful too, Daddy.”

I grin at her. “Will you help me count?”

Together we begin counting, only making it to five before I have to pull my hand away. “Why we did dat?”

“How long I can keep my hand there tells me how hot the grill is. It still needs a bit more heat to get a good sear on the chicken.”

“Whoa!” My girl sounds thoroughly impressed. “I try it?”

“Maybe when you’re a little bit older.”

She sticks her lower lip out in the cutest pout known to mankind. “Fine. I go help Mommy.” She pivots and runs toward the house, leaving me to chuckle in her wake.

Back inside, Natalie is chopping away at a head of lettuce, presumably for a salad. “Where’s Tatum?” I ask, coming up behind her and dropping a kiss to her neck after checking the coast was clear.

“She didn’t like that I didn’t have a job for her, so she is up in her room playing.”

“It’s sweet how much she likes to help.”

Natalie nods her agreement, too focused on making uniform cuts on her tomatoes to reply verbally.

I’m about to ask her how she’s feeling when the sound of my doorbell rings through the house. Tatum comes flying down the stairs. “Nana! Popsie! Der here!”

I catch her at the landing and swoop her up and around my shoulders like a toddler scarf. Her giggles are contagious, and by the time we make it to the door, we’re both laughing.

I swing it open, only to be met with a triple whammy—all of our guests have arrived together, and poor Tatum doesn’t know who to greet first. She wiggles and I set her down on the floor. “Nana! Popsie! Uncle Nate! Miss Jenny! Dis is the best day ever!”

We all stand there awkwardly, until Luke—Mr. Reynolds—drops to his knees and engulfs his granddaughter in a bear hug. Melanie is quick to follow suit, peppering Tatum’s face with kisses, murmuring in between then how much she has missed her.

After their reunion, Tatum wraps herself around Jenny’s leg, tugging on the hem of her top, begging her to hold her. “Miss Jenny! You’re here! You watch Trolls with me?”

Before Jenny can reply, Nate slaps a hand over his chest. “Hello? What am I? Chopped liver?”

Tatum cracks up. “Ew. No. Liber is yuck.”

“Then get over here and hug me, Tater Tot!” Jenny passes Tatum to Nate, and I notice her giving him a slow perusal—how interesting. Nat will have a field day with that.

“Uncle Nate, you wants to see my room?” Tatum asks, batting her lashes up at my best friend.

“You know I do.”

She squeals in his arms. “You too, Miss Jenny! You’ll love it!”

Together, the three of them set off up the stairs, while I shut the front door and head back toward the kitchen. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Natalie and her mother are making small talk, while her dad silently bores a hole into her head with his laser focus.

“We’re glad y’all could make it,” I say, and Natalie smiles gratefully.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Melanie says, but her tone lacks the warmness it used to hold when she spoke to me. As much as I love Tatum, and as much as I would never trade her or give her up for anything, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt to get the cold shoulder from Melanie and Luke. They truly were like second parents to me growing up.

“Can I get y’all something to drink?” I walk over to the fridge, swinging the double doors open wide. “I’ve got beer, wine, lemonade with fresh mint, tea, water.”

“You drink in front of Tatum?” Mr. Reynolds barks out, and my hackles rise.

“Do we have a drink with a meal in front of Tatum? You betcha. Do we get drunk? Absolutely not.” I’m not sure what he’s getting at, especially seeing as a drink or two—especially during football season—was a common occurrence in the Reynolds household growing up.

He steps a little closer to his wife as if looking for back up. “You think that sets a good example?”

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Natalie, on the other hand, looks ready to spit fire. Gently, I place my hand over hers—something both of her parents catch—letting her know that I’ve got this. She pauses and looks down at the now mangled carrot she was chopping and rolls her eyes.

“You know,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “I certainly don’t think it’s a bad example. We never over-imbibe. We never have more than a drink with dinner. Nothing wrong with that.”

Natalie’s dad huffs like a bull about to charge a red flag. “And you know what’s best for her after being a father for all of ten minutes?”

Melanie looks torn between being horrified by her husband’s behavior and wanting to support him out of obligation.

“Why can’t you just get over this?” Natalie screams. “Even excusing that I’m your only daughter, are you so prideful and stubborn you’d risk your relationship with Tatum over something that really has nothing to do with you?”

“Natalie! Luke! Enough!” Melanie yells forcefully. “I’ve allowed this to drag on far too long. Your daughter is right.”

At the sound of our raised voices, Tatum flies into the room, with Nate and Jenny hot on her heels. She flings herself into her mother’s arms before reaching out and grabbing my sleeve to pull me closer. “Why’s eb-ry one being so loud? I don’t like it.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, and suddenly, I feel like a rotten jackass. What the hell are we thinking hashing this out where she can hear?

I place my hand on her cheek and guide her eyes to mine. “Sometimes grownups disagree and argue. We’re sorry we upset you, pretty girl.”

She sniffles and clings tighter to Natalie. “Why you mad? Did Popsie break your toy?”

Nat buries her face in Tatum’s hair. “No, Tater Tot, Popsie didn’t break one of my toys. We’re just…having a disagreement. Kind of like when I ask you to pick up your room, and you don’t want to. Everything’s okay.”

I’m hoping like hell Tatum’s presence will be what it takes to break this ice and to get us on the path to a resolution, but a glance over to Luke tells me that’s not going to be the case—he looks utterly repulsed.

“How sweet,” he sneers. “Playing house doesn’t make up for all of the—”

I have no desire to hear whatever this man has to say. In the brief amount of time he’s been under my roof, he’s made both Natalie and Tatum cry, and that shit’s not going to fly with me.

“That’s enough.” I keep my tone low, as not to scare my daughter, but it’s also deadly, showing just how serious I am. “With all due respect, sir, your daughter was faced with a situation far beyond her years, and while she definitely made mistakes, she handled it in the way she thought was best at the time. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you sit here and make the woman I love feel even worse than she already does. We’re both moving forward, and you can either move with us or get left behind.”

All of the women in the room are misty-eyed, and when Nat palms my cheek and turns my face toward hers, the full impact of what I just said hits me like a freight train.

“You love…me?” Her voice is so small and unsure.

As I look at her, cradling our daughter close to her chest, I swear to God I see our past and our future flash before my eyes. “I do. I really do love you, Nat.”

A small sob squeaks past her lips. “I-I love you too.” She looks down at her feet and then back at me. “I always have.”

“Does dis mean your mama’s boyfriend now?” Tatum asks, reaching for me.

I take her into my arms and touch my nose to hers. “Yeah, pretty girl, I guess it does.”

“You need to talk to them,” Melanie hisses at her husband under her breath, but all I can focus on is what Jenny murmurs from behind them.

“Lord Jesus, remind me to never settle for anyone who doesn’t look at me the way you look at Natalie.”

Natalie’s brows pinch together. “H-how does he look at me?”

“With fire and forever dancing his eyes, babe. He looks at you like you’re his lifeline.”

Melanie places her hand lightly on her husband’s arm. “I mean it, Luke. I’ve been patient, but this has to stop.” He gives her a terse nod. “Jenny, sweetheart, could you take Tatum out in the backyard to play?”

“Of…of course. Come on, girlfriend, let’s go.” She makes her way over to where we’re standing and takes Tatum from my arms.

“I go play, but no more yelling, okay?” Tatum demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

Natalie boops her nose. “Deal.”