I feel it’s on me to be honest with Nate about being into his sister back then. But vague is the way to go. He doesn’t need to know the extent of my— mostly former—infatuation.

He doesn’t need to know that when she turned sixteen and sprouted breasts that I could hardly tear my eyes away, as sick as that is. And he absolutely doesn’t need to know that every time I…took matters into my own hands…it was her fantasized about.

Nope. No way in fucking well. I’m keeping that shit under lock and key. Hell, maybe in a fireproof safe.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Nate says, lifting a boulder off of my shoulders. Legit, I feel a hundred pounds lighter.

A knock sounds from the other side of my office door. Nate quickly stands. Awkwardly, I extend my hand toward him. But instead of a handshake, he pulls me in for a bro-hug. “I’m gonna get out of here and let you and Nat talk.”

“Sounds good.” He walks over to the door, but I stop him before he can pull it open and leave. “Hey, Nate, thanks.”

He opens the door and leaves, and his sister enters the room, taking the seat he just vacated. “That was…a lot,” she murmurs, breaking the ice.

I stare at her, seated across from me, looking frazzled and puffy-eyed, but still so fucking beautiful. The fury I want so desperately to cling to begins to slip away. I’m not sure that I’m actually ready to let it go, but I can see the pain and regret so clearly in her glassy eyes.

“One way of putting it.” I drop back down into my chair. “I want to get to know Tatum.”

“Yes! Yes, of course. I really, truly would never stand in the way of that.” She pauses, wiping her palms across her shapely, denim-clad thighs. “And I want you to know, I don’t expect anything from you. Between us or monetarily. The only thing Tatum needs from you is your time—time I have already unfairly taken from y’all.”

The remorse in her voice is so strong that I physically feel it, and it makes me ache. “I’m gonna be real with you, Nat. I’m not as mad as I was. But, I can’t say I’m ready to forgive and forget. It’s going to take time, but I will never let the shit between us bleed over into my relationship with Tatum.”

She gives me a sad smile. “That’s all I can ask for.”

“Let’s hammer out a schedule then.”

Natalie digs her phone out of her purse, and I run my index finger over the touchpad on my laptop, waking it from its sleep. I key in my password and open my calendar.

“W-would it be okay for the first visit or to two for me to tag along?”

My first instinct is to tell her to fuck off, but I refrain. I imagine this has to be hard for her—even if it is of her own doing. “Sure.”

“Really?” She sighs, and I watch her posture visibly loosen. “Thank you so much. Maybe we…we could make you dinner?”

I don’t particularly want to go to her house, but I agree to because I know it is where Tatum will be the most comfortable. I offer the same one-word answer as before, but she smiles like I just told her she’s won the lottery.

“Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!” She leaps from her chair and moves around the desk, wrapping me in a hug. Her nearness feels better than I’ll ever admit out loud; it feels like carbonation bubbles bursting against my tongue after that first sip of Coke.

I gently move her back from me. I can’t think for shit when she’s that close. It’s like my body and my brain go to war, and her little body and her warm skin on mine feel so good that my brain waves the white flag of defeat within seconds.

Fuck that noise.

She looks a little hurt at the distance I’ve forced, but she’ll get over it. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

She returns to her seat and nibbles her lip. “I have one of my classes.”

“That’s not a problem for me. I’ll keep an eye on Tatum while you do your class. Maybe Tatum and I can cook for you.” As soon as the idea forms in my mind, I like it. “Really, it’s the most favorable option, Natalie. I get time with her, but we’re under the same roof. It’s a win-win.”

“Yeah. You’re right. But listen, we need to handle telling her who you really are delicately.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I may be new to the whole parenting thing, but I’m not an idiot. “I agree. I’ll spend time with her first and let her get to me, and when it feels right, we will tell her together.”

“Yeah, okay.” She stands, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow. My class starts at six, so maybe a little before?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh, and Alden.” I glance up to find her fishing something out of her bag. It looks like a…scrapbook? “I-I brought this for you. It’s a book of all of Tatum’s firsts. I know it’s not the same as being there, but hopefully it’ll help a little.” She places it on the edge of my desk and walks away, closing the door behind her.

I pull the memory book toward me, with great caution, like it’s a coiled snake, ready to strike and inject me with deadly venom at any time. Flipping it open, I’m immediately met with a picture of Tatum as a newborn laying on Nat’s chest. I’m awestruck by how similar we looked as babies; if anything, it reaffirms what I already know in my heart to be true—she is mine.

I flip through the pages, one by one, soaking up every entry. I have to give Natalie credit, she truly kept up with every single first. Even a few I could have went without—first diaper blow-out? No thanks.