Best Laid Plans

by Farlow, LK

  I scoff. “Like? No. I love it!” I let her bounce a few more seconds before swooping her off of her mattress and into my arms. I set her down and take a seat on her bed, and she shows me her most favorite toys. After a few minutes, I ask, “You wanna help me make dinner?”

  She looks up at me like I’m some kind of hero. “You likes to cook?”

  “I do. I like it so much I went to school for it.”

  “I go to school! But we just pway!”

  “Oh yeah? Nothing wrong with that. What did you do at school today?”

  She pauses, thinking over my question. “Today I got marrieds Clark, he’s my number two hubband.”

  I practically choke on air. “Married, huh? Does your mom know?”

  Tatum smiles a smile so saccharine my teeth hurt. “Nope. It’s our secwet, Alden.”

  I lift my brows in surprise. “Got it.” I pinch my fingers together and hover them over my mouth and mime locking a key. “My lips are sealed. Now, let’s go cook!” I grab my bag from the floor by the door and meet Tatum in the kitchen. I’m immediately impressed by the way she knows where everything is—from pots and pans to utensils to spices. This kid is familiar with her kitchen.

  I start arranging the items from my bag when Tatum tugs on the hem of my shirt. “Tie my apwon?” I look down, and clutched in her grasp is a miniature apron covered in flowers and polka dots.

  “Of course.”

  It’s then I notice she’s already wearing the apron she wants tied. Which must mean… “Here. Dis one for you.” Dutifully, I put on the child’s size smock with a smile. “Dat’s perfect! What’s we making?”

  “I was thinking we could make breakfast. How does that sound?”

  “Like yum!”

  “Have you ever had eggs benedict?” She shrugs her little shoulders. “Well, you’re in for a treat.” I hope…do kids like hollandaise sauce?

  Tatum stands on her stool at the counter, and I show her how to separate egg yolks from whites. “Dis feels yucky,” she squeals, and I agree.

  Once our yolks are safely in the blender, we add two teaspoons of water using her special rainbow set of measuring spoons, along with salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne. Switching gears, Tatum drags her stool over to the stove and we set to work on step two of our sauce, melting the butter until it’s nice and foamy.

  When it’s just right, I help her slowly pour the butter into the blender as well before securing the lid. I show her which button to press, and she squeals when the loud mechanical whir fills the room. She then helps me transfer the sauce to a small bowl, and I cover it with plastic wrap.

  “What next?” she asks, her voice bubbling over with excitement.

  “Now we poach our eggs.” The hot water makes me nervous, so I only let her watch with this part, but I still explain every step. “You don’t ever want the water to be boiling, just a few bubbles. You got that?”

  She nods like a scientist checking an experiment. “Bubbles, not boils.”

  We set our eggs onto a paper-towel-covered plate and start on toasting our English muffins. While they get golden and crispy, we fry up some Canadian bacon.

  “We done?” she asks, looking at the plates of food on the counter.

  “Not quite. Now we have to assemble them.”

  “Ah-swimble?”

  “Assemble. Or…build them. Kind of like blocks.”

  I show her the order to stack them with the first one and help with her the second, but the third…the third I let her try solo.

  The tip of her tongue pokes out in concentration as she sets an English muffin onto the plate in front of her. She moves the Canadian bacon with surgeon-like precision. It’s the egg that trips her up. She sets it down a little too roughly, and the yolk bursts.

  Suddenly, my worst fear is coming true. Her big green eyes are full of tears. “I broke’d it,” she wails, absolutely distraught.

  Without even thinking about it, I wrap her in my arms and hug her tight. “It’s okay,” I soothe, “I promise. It’s okay.”

  “But now da yolk ran away,” she sniffles.

  “It did. But it didn’t get far.” I show her how the yolk is pooling around the bread. “It will still taste just the same. In fact, I think I want to eat this one. Can I?”

  Her tears wane, and she looks at me with pure joy. “Really?”

  “Really-really. Now, let’s finish up. Your mom should be ready to join us soon.”

  We crank out the remaining Benedicts, and I carry them to the table just as Natalie enters the room. “Mmm, something smells good!”

  Tatum rushes over to her and drags her to the table. “We made eggs…uh, eggs…”

  “Benedict,” I fill in. “And Tatum helped every step of the way.”

  Natalie shoots me a knowing look. One that says, that’s because she takes after you. My throat clogs with emotion, but I swallow it down. “Let’s eat!”

  26

  Natalie

  I typically finish assignments long before the allotted time runs out, but tonight I am down to the wire. Every little sound Alden and Tatum make distracts me. What are they doing? Are they having fun? Are things going smoothly? I try my damndest to focus, but gah! The distraction is real!

  At the last minute possible, I click submit and push back from my small, cramped desk. Standing, I reach my arms over my head and arch my back in a stretch worthy of a cat resting in the sun. I give myself a mental pep talk, pumping myself up for whatever they’ve been up to and head out toward them.

  All the pep-talks in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the sight that greets me, though. I linger at the end of the hall and watch them for a few. I watch how he takes his time and talks to her like she’s an adult, not in that patronizing tone some adults use with kids. I watch as he comforts Tatum and wipes away her tears after she drops…what looks like an egg? And that apron hanging from his neck…I can hardly handle that fucking apron.

  He’s patient and calm and him stepping into this dad role so flawlessly is some kind of sexy. If I wasn’t one-hundred-percent positive he wanted jack shit to do with me, I’d climb him like a tree.

  As Alden brings the plates to the table, I step out of the shadows, not wanting to be caught. “Mmm, something smells good!”

  Tatum runs to me and drags me to the table. “We made eggs…uh, eggs…”

  “Benedict,” Alden provides. “And Tatum helped every step of the way.”

  My insides turn to mush. My girl is so much like her father it is insane—and such a blessing.

  Alden looks as though he’s about to say something, but seems to rethink it and instead says, “Let’s eat!”

  Tatum and I claim our usual seats, with me at the head of the table and her to my left. Alden opts to sit to my right. The three of us seated together like this—like a family—causes a flutter in my belly. Which is absurd. The man can barely tolerate my presence after the shit I pulled.

  But when he pulls her plate toward him and starts cutting her food without anyone asking, I’m helpless to resist. The flutters turn into a full-blown flap as the butterflies riot in a mass swoon.

  Desperate to mask the emotions simmering within me, I dig into my food with gusto. The flavors burst on my tongue, simple yet homey and delicious. “Oh,” I moan around my fork. “This is delicious.”

  My girl smiles widely. “Alden showed me how to make dis. We poached da eggs, Mama!”

  “You did, and they are delicious.”

  “Thanks!”

  The food is so good that even Tatum’s chatter falls away as we devour it. That is, until she asks, “You wants to stay and watch a movie?”

  Alden’s fork audibly scrapes against his plate, and I swear he swallows so loudly the upstairs neighbors can hear it. I can tell from his rigid posture he’s not totally down with spending more time with us—though it’s probably spending time with me that’s the issue.

  Not wanting him to be the bad guy, I speak up. “Oh, Tater Tot, it’s pretty la
te already. You still need a bath and everything.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and pouts. “But Mama! I don’t want him to go!”

  She’s gearing up for a meltdown, and as stupid as it is, I’m worried it will send Alden running for the hills. What if he’s the kind of dad who’s only in it for the good and easy? No! my brain shouts. You know better than that, stupid girl! But still, the worry lingers.

  “I actually have to get up pretty early tomorrow too, pretty girl. But, what if I stay for a little longer?”

  “You puts me to bed?” she asks, using her sad eyes like a weapon.

  Alden rubs at his throat. “Uh, sure. If it’s okay with your mom.”

  Tatum speaks for me. “It is!” Alden swings his gaze to me, and I give him a subtle nod letting him know that I’m good with it.

  I push back from the table and stand. “Okay, now that that’s settled, you need to get your behind into the tub!” Alden stands, too, and begins gathering up the dishes. I drop my hand on his, stopping him, and he stiffens at the contact. “I’ll get these later. You cooked.”

  “I’ve got it. You take care of her.” His robotic tone causes my shoulders to sag.

  Luckily, Tatum lightens the mood. “You swears you won’t go nowhere while I gets clean?”

  “Yeah, pretty girl. I swear.”

  Pleased with his response, Tatum skips off down the hall and I follow after. We fly through her bedtime routine, at her insistence. Once she’s dressed in her jammies and her hair is combed, she takes off in search of Alden.

  We find him in the kitchen loading the last of the dinner dishes. That man. He turns at the sound of us entering. “You squeaky clean?” he asks.

  “Uh. I just clean, not squeaky!”

  “Good enough for me.” He walks over to her, and she reaches her arms up for him to hold her. He scoops her up. “Now, about that bedtime book…”

  He sets off down the hall toward her bedroom, where he deposits her onto her bed. She scrambles underneath the covers, pulling them up to her chin.

  I hand him the book she’s favored lately, and he lowers himself down onto the edge of her bed, opens the book, and begins reading. Reluctantly, I step out of the room, giving them their privacy.

  And by privacy, I mean I hover just outside the door, listening as he reads to her, taking the time to do different voices for all of the characters. Her eyes are drooping when he turns the last page, but she sleepily demands an encore.

  She loses the battle to sleep less than two minutes in, and my heart feels like it weighs a million pounds in my chest as I watch him lean down and press his lips to her forehead. He pulls back and stares at her a few moments before setting her book on the nightstand. I haul ass and hurl myself onto the couch, not wanting him to know what a creeper I am.

  Though judging from the look on his face, he’s fully aware—then again, my labored breathing is probably a dead giveaway that I haven’t been sitting here calmly waiting.

  “So.” He tucks his thumbs into his front pockets and rocks back on his feels.

  I stand. “So.”

  Lord, this is painfully awkward. “Any chance I could use your restroom before I head out?”

  “Oh, yeah. Okay. Sure. It’s the door across from Tatum’s.”

  * * *

  Alden

  Turning on my heel, I walk to the hall bath. I turn on the faucet and splash my face with some cold water. Tonight has been a lot to take in. But, Tatum is…she’s magical. And something in my gut is saying she’s mine.

  I’m about to head back out when something in the trashcan catches my eye.

  “What the…” I crouch down to get a closer look. Sure as shit, it’s the paternity test I gave her. A wrath like I’ve never known lights my insides in a blazing inferno.

  I storm out of the bathroom and stalk toward Natalie, a.k.a. Mia 2.0—it’s fitting, seeing that she’s a lying, conniving bitch. “You really thought you could fucking fool me?” I’m up in her face, begging for a fight.

  “Wh-what are you talking about?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused. But, I know all too well how deceitful women like her can be. To think she almost had me fooled…What’s that fucking saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… Well, thank God I discovered the truth before twice could fully hit.

  “That’s cute, Nat.” I laugh a hollow laugh. “Keep up the innocent, woe is me act. But I gotta be real, it’s not very becoming on you.”

  She looks up at me with wide tear-filled eyes, but I can’t seem to find it within me to care. “Al-Alden, I r-really don’t know what you m-mean.”

  I scoff, disgusted with her antics. “I saw the paternity test in the garbage. There’s only one reason you’d toss it. You figured you had me snowed and didn’t need proof anymore.”

  I’m expecting her to beg for forgiveness and understanding. I’m expecting her to plead her case in a mess of snot and tears. But she does neither of those things. Nope. She shoves past me and marches down the hall toward the bathroom.

  She returns, box in hand. “This, Alden? You mean this?”

  She thrusts the box into my hands, her face red and tears running down her cheeks. It’s then I notice it’s…empty.

  “I sent the samples in this morning! I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I made that mistake once already and look how well that turned out.”

  Her words, so full of conviction, take the wind out of my sails. “What?” I ask, my brain not quite comprehending what she’s saying.

  “I have nothing to hide, Alden.” Her words are a quiet whisper.

  Deflated, I drop down onto the couch and hang my head in my hands. “How did everything get so messed up?” I mutter the words more to myself than aloud, but she still hears me.

  “This is my fault. All of it. I should have been honest from the start. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I really am sorry.”

  I scrub a hand over the stubble on my jaw. “No. Well, yes, but it’s more than that. The way things ended with Mia really fucked me up.”

  Natalie cautiously claims the seat next to me. “What’s Mia have to do with us?”

  A long, weary sigh escapes my lips. “Nothing. Everything. Fuck.”

  “Talk to me, Alden. Please.”

  “She…she was pregnant.” Natalie gasps, her lips forming a perfect “O.” She lifts her right hand to her heart, looking stricken. “Only it wasn’t mine. She cheated on me. Said I wasn’t attentive enough but figured I was a more…suitable…father figure than the actual father. She lied so convincingly and I followed her blindly.

  “We weren’t really in the right place to start a family, but Natalie, I was ready and willing to step up and do whatever it took. All she ever did was take and take and take, but like an idiot, I always gave willingly. She needed money to see the doctor, I handed it over, no questions asked—not even when she came home with a new designer bag or shoes. It never once crossed my mind that insurance would have covered most of her appointments. I just wanted her to be happy

  “I was so fucking blinded back then. It took me catching her with him to figure it out, and I swore then and there that I would never be so stupid again. And now—”

  Natalie sniffles next to me. “And now, here I am crying baby daddy like the boy who cried wolf. But Alden, from the bottom of my heart, I’m not lying to you.” She stares down at her lap, looking so, so sad. “The…the results will be here in about five days. You’ll see.”

  A mix of emotions are clouding my mind, so much so that I’m not sure I know up from down. “I’m gonna head out.” I stand and head to the kitchen to grab my bag. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions tonight.”

  “I deserve it, so…”

  I sigh. Again. For what feels like the billionth time tonight. “Natalie, I’m sorr—”

  “Please don’t apologize. Knowing about you and Mia really helps me to see why you feel the way you do. And I don’t blame you for being suspicious. But, she is yours Alden, th
rough and through.”

  Deep down, I know Tatum’s mine. Which is why I ask, “When can I see her again?”

  Natalie sucks in a shuddering breath. “Maybe we can all go to the park Sunday?” Hope tinges her tone—most likely hope that I’ll agree to another group activity.

  I glance up at the popcorn ceiling, then back at her. “Sure, Nat. See you around.”

  27

  Alden

  Spending time with Tatum last night was all that I imagined it to be and more. The amount of stress and anxiety I felt leading up to it is almost laughable now. That kid is every single good thing in this life all rolled into one. She is so honest and pure—it gets me feeling fuzzy to know she’s mine.

  Even after everything with Natalie—and telling her about Mia—I’m still on cloud nine.

  What brings me down a little is the thought of calling my parents and breaking the news. But, I know I have to.

  The phone rings twice and my mom picks up. “Alden, sweetie. How are you? Is everything okay?”

  I guess her Spidey senses must be tingling.

  “Good. Uh. Mostly. Is Dad around?”

  I hear shuffling and then, “Yes, dear. We have you on speaker.”

  “Son. What’s going on?”

  “I…I have.” My words break off. Damn, this is harder than I thought. “I have a daughter.”

  I met with nothing but dead silence, and then the sound of my mother wailing—if they are tears of sorrow or joy is yet to be determined. “My baby has a baby. Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord, I knew this day would come.” My mom continues on with her emotional rambling.

  “Her name’s Tatum. She’s three. And she’s…absolutely amazing.”

  My dad steps in as the voice of reason. “Gonna need more information here, son. Such as, how do you have a toddler and with who? Are you sure she’s yours?”

  This conversation is going about as well as I thought it would. “Mom, Dad. Listen. N-Natalie Reynolds is her mother and—” I pause. I may not be scientifically sure, but my heart is absolutely certain. “Yes, I’m sure.”