by Farlow, LK
“I absolutely promise. But you have to sit very still and be a very brave girl. Can you do that for Daddy?”
She sniffles and nods.
The nurse begins wrapping the liner. She then wets the outer cast material and wraps it over the first layer. “It’s hot,” Tatum cries.
“I know, sweetie,” the nurse coos. “That’s the fiberglass getting hard. It’ll cool in about fifteen minutes.”
Tatum sniffles again.
The doctor goes over aftercare instructions and reminds me to make a follow-up appointment in six weeks. Alden and I both thank him and stand to leave. Tatum is still teary, but she’s no longer bawling.
The nurse leads us to a set of double doors that exit back into the lobby. “Be sure and stop by the desk to pay your co-pay. Have a nice night.”
Alden gives her a tight smile, grumbling under his breath all the while. Out in the lobby, we do as she says, and Alden whips out his wallet and pays before I can even argue.
We say goodbye to my parents and head back to my apartment.
43
Alden
Natalie says she’s not mad, but the entire drive back to her place, I worry she’s going to change her mind. I mean, why wouldn’t she be at least a little upset? Tatum got hurt on my watch.
After I park, I help Natalie get Tatum inside. I trail behind, expecting Natalie to go to Tatum’s room, but she continues on to hers. “She likes being in my bed when she doesn’t feel good,” she explains.
Once she’s tucked into her bed, I kiss her forehead and turn to leave. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Nat rushes after me. “Wait! Where are you going?”
I look down at my feet. “I figured you’d want me to head out.”
She steps closer to me and pressed her index finger under my chin, tipping my head up to face her. “Why would you think that? Because she broke her arm?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Come sit with me.” She takes my hand and tugs, guiding me to the couch. “You’re her father. You’re the man I love. There’s no other place we’d want you to be right now. When she wakes up, she’s going to want both of us here.”
She brings her hands up to my chest and pushes me back onto the couch, where she promptly straddles my lap. “I always want you here, Alden.” She seals her mouth to mine, her tongue flicking against my lips. I open, and she deepens our kiss. He fingers tangle in my hair, and she rocks against me. “Seeing you so protective and worried about her really turned me on.”
Holy. Shit. She’s really not mad!
I dive back into our kiss, licking and sucking and nipping until we’re both wound tight with desire.
“I need you to make me feel good,” she purrs. Unable to deny her, I make quick work of stripping her and laying her down on her back. I kiss my way down her body, paying special attention to her breasts, before reaching my final destination, where I don’t just make her feel good—I make her feel divine.
* * *
Over the next week, Tatum returned to her normal sunshine-and-rainbows self. There were definitely some rough patches—a lot of meltdowns—from it hurting, not having the use of both arms, not being able to wear certain outfits thanks to her cast.
But then she learned she could ask people to sign her cast. Talk about a happy kid. Everyone at the café and all of the staff at her daycare has signed it. And, anytime anyone asks her what happened, she tells them she was trying to fly but forgot her cape. Swear to God, she’s the cutest, most imaginative kid in the world.
Since her big tumble, Tatum hasn’t wanted either of us out of her sight—which has been both a blessing and a curse. At first, we alternated whose place we stayed at every other night, with me always sneaking out to the couch before Tatum woke up. Then, one day, Tatum surprised us all by asking why Natalie and I didn’t share a bed like Nana and Popsie did.
Talk about awkward.
I played the novice dad card and let Natalie handle that one. She sat Tatum down and explained to her that we didn’t share a bed because we didn’t live together and because we weren’t married.
To which Tatum replied, “Why not?” I’m unsure whether she was asking why Natalie and I wasn’t married or why we didn’t all live together—either way, it got my wheels turning.
Why don’t we live together? I mean, we are a family.
After swapping houses for the fourth time in as many days, I convinced Natalie that the two of them should just stay with me—she seemed on the fence at the first, but Tatum’s enthusiasm sold her.
That was step one in my Convince Natalie to Move in with Me Grand Plan. As of right now, we’re still pretending to sleep in separate beds, but baby steps and all that.
Now, here we are on day seven. Tatum’s still sleeping. Natalie’s whipping us up some breakfast, and I’m folding our laundry at the dining room table—literally never something I thought I’d say, and yet, I wouldn’t change it for the world. After Mia, I planned on being a lifelong bachelor, but now I can’t see myself being anything other than a family man.
Which is all the more reason to take a step to make our little family more concrete. I plan to pop the question. Well, not that question, but an important one nonetheless. I want my girls to move in with me, and I’m hoping like hell Natalie says yes.
I’m halfway through the second load of the day—early bird gets the worm and all that—when the scent of bacon lures me to the kitchen. I come up behind Natalie, admiring the way she looks in her flannel pajama pants and tank top. Then again, she could make a sack sexy.
I drag my lips across her neck, speaking against her skin. “Mmm. Smells good.”
She wiggles her ass against me. “Gonna taste good too. Bacon, soft boiled eggs, and toast.”
I grip her hips and place another lingering kiss to her nape. “I’ll go wake Tatum up.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I make a pit stop at the table and transfer my piles into their coordinating baskets before setting off up the stairs with a hamper in each hand. I go to drop our basket off in my room when noise from behind the closed guest room door snags my attention. I shoulder the door open and immediate lose my hold on both baskets, spilling my freshly folded clothes all over…oh, holy shit.
Tatum is sitting in the middle of the floor, looking proud as punch.
“Wha-what is that?” I ask, gesturing to the wine-colored goop covering her from head to toe.
“Lipsticks,” she answers bluntly.
“Lipstick, huh?”
She smiles a wide, beauty queen smile at me. “Yup. Don’t I look hootiful?”
I shake my head back and forth, laughing under my breath. This kid. “You look…why don’t we go show Mama?”
“Yes!” Moving from sitting to standing takes her an extra second or two thanks to her cast, but before I know it, she’s racing down the stairs.
“Oh, good Lord! Not again!” I hear Natalie holler, and I grin. Apparently, this is not a first-time offense.
I step into the room and see Tatum trying to twirl like a ballerina. “Don’t I look hootiful?”
“Tatum. We talked about this,” Natalie says, using her mom voice.
My girl’s eyes fill with tears, and it takes everything in me not to play good cop and come to her defense. But then I’d be the one in the doghouse—no thanks.
When her lower lip wobbles, my knees do too.
“I just wanted to look pretty, Mama.”
Natalie lets out an exasperated sigh. “You always look pretty, Tater Tot. You know better than to play with my makeup.”
“I know. I sorry. I just wanted to be pretty like you!”
That’s when I step in; I can’t stay silent a second longer.
I squat down so that Tatum and I are eye level. “What do I call you?”
She tilts her head and blinks before smiling. “Pretty girl.”
“That’s right. You’re my pretty girl. I know Mama’s lipstick seems shiny and fun, but it’s
for grownups. Not little girls. Okay?”
She pouts a little but agrees. “Okay. I sorry.”
Nat grins at me; I hope that means I nailed this. I’m thinking we work great as a team.
Natalie takes Tatum upstairs to the bathroom, leaving me to plate up our breakfast. Really, this couldn’t have worked out better had I planned it.
I bring our food out, along with the silverware and drinks. Only, I leave something extra special on Nat’s napkin.
They join me at the table, both digging into their food right away. It’s agony waiting for her to notice the little box. I was really counting on her putting that napkin in her lap.
Finally, she makes a grab for it. “What’s this?” she asks, looking at it quizzically.
“Open it.”
She looks nervous, and I kind of love it.
She cracks open the box, revealing a key on a silver keychain. She lifts it from the box and reads the engraving—You already live in my heart. Share my home too.
Her eyes fill with tears, and I worry I’ve messed this all up.
Natalie quickly dispels that worry when she nods and rushed over to hug me. Not one to be left out, Tatum wriggles down and joins our embrace. “Mama, why you crying?”
“Happy tears, Tater Tot. Happy tears.”
Tatum pulls back and scrunches her nose. “Why?”
“How…how would you feel about us living here with Daddy?”
“Like a family? Like Nana and Popsie?”
“Yes, pretty girl,” I answer her, “just like that.”
“Yes! Please! Yes!” She launches herself back at me, burying her face in my chest. This is hands-down the best day of my life.
* * *
It’s been a month since I asked my girls to move in with me. As much as I’d love to say life has been perfect, I’d be lying. We bicker from time to time like an old married couple, and sometimes Tatum misses her old apartment. All in all, though, the transition has gone well, and really, when toddlers are involved, a few hiccups along the way are par for the course. And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing; it’s our own kind of perfect.
I was truly more apprehensive over telling our families than about us actually moving in together, but they took it shockingly well.
Nate simply shrugged and said, “Treat her right, brother.”
Her parents were excited. Melanie wrapped me in a hug and rocked us side to side. I’ll never forget my shock when Luke wrapped an arm around me and said, “Now you better make an honest woman out of my baby girl soon.”
Hell, I’d do it today—right this very second, in fact—and Natalie would probably be down with it too. But she deserves the fairytale every little girl dreams of, and I’m damn sure going to give it to her. Not to mention, Lord help us all if we deny Tatum the change to dress fancy and be the center of attention—she would never forgive us.
My parents were over the moon—so much so that they’re flying in today and are staying through the first of November. I’m actually on my way to the airport now to pick them up, making this day one of five that they’ll be occupying my guest room—which equates to five days of Natalie being weird about sex. But, such is life.
Natalie and I tried getting them to hold off until Thanksgiving or Christmas, but they weren’t having it—they’re way too excited to meet Tatum face-to-face. According to them, they’ve waited long enough. Three years too long, to be exact. I know it wasn’t a dig toward Natalie, but I could tell it hurt her feelings. After that, I had a private talk with my mom and dad and asked them if they could refrain from making comments like that. Mom felt awful when she realized it had upset Natalie. She was insistent on apologizing, but I convinced her to let go and to just move forward.
Hopefully she doesn’t try and spring an ambush apology on her in person—with my mom, you never know.
I pull my car into the pick-up area, and sure enough, Mom and Dad are waiting, eagerly scanning every vehicle, like they don’t know what I drive—even though Dad consulted with me on which make and model to buy.
Gotta love parents.
I idle the car and pop the trunk before hopping out to help them. Dad waves me off, insisting on stowing his own luggage, and Mom wraps me in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, my baby! It’s been so long!” She kisses both of my cheeks and then peers around me into the backseat. “Where’s Tatum?”
“She’s at the house with Natalie.”
Mom pouts, looking much like Tatum does when she doesn’t get her way. “C’mon, you’ll see her soon enough.”
Dad shuts the trunk and comes around to hug me. It’s not one of those back-slap-man-hugs—no, it’s every bit as bone-crushing as Mom’s. “Son. You’re looking good. But take me to my grandbaby.”
I snort out a laugh. He’s every bit as bad as his wife—the two really are a match made in heaven.
The drive home is full-on nonstop chatter. We catch up on everything that’s happened since we spoke last, which isn’t much, seeing as we talk at least every two days.
They’re both anxious to meet Tatum; their excitement practically rolls off of them in waves. I have clearly been demoted in the hierarchy of importance.
I pull into the driveway, parking behind Natalie’s vehicle. My mom has her door open before I even shift the car into park.
She all but sprints toward the house, my dad not far behind her. The front door flies open and Tatum darts out, throwing herself in my mom’s waiting arms.
“Grammy! Grammy! Yous here!” Guess it’s safe to say they’re equally excited.
Mom squeezes her tight before placing her hands on her shoulders and holding her an arm’s length away. “I sure am. Now, let me look at you.” She scans Tatum from toe to top, her eyes wet with tears. “Oh, you are just beautiful.”
Dad crouches down next to them, and Tatum happily flits over to him, hugging his neck. “Paw Paw!” He smiles and kisses her cheek. She cackles and pushes his face away. “You ticklers tickle.”
Dad twitches his nose. “You mean my mustache?”
Tatum shrugs. “I guess. I think dey look like whiskers. Like a puppy!”
Dad’s expression grows dead serious, and then he lets out a bark, much to Tatum’s delight. God, who knew my parents would be such good grandparents?
I look up from my parents and Tatum to see Natalie on the porch watching their interactions. She looks a steady mix of nerves and joy. I wave her over and hesitantly, she comes.
Mom notices her first. She stands and wastes no time embracing her. “Natalie Reynolds. Look at you, all grown up.”
“Hey Mrs. Warner—”
“None of that. Call me Phyllis.”
Nat scrunches her nose and ducks her head. “Sorry. Hey Phyllis. We’re glad y’all are here. Was your flight okay?”
Dad stands and hugs Natalie too. “Aside from them serving pretzels and not peanuts, it was fine.”
Mom smacks his chest. “Fine? There was enough turbulence to bring the thing down!”
My dad chuckles. “There was one bump, dear. One.”
“Hush. Let’s not argue in front of the kids.”
“Let’s head inside,” I say. “Natalie made dinner.”
Dad pats his stomach. “Good. Those damn pretzels didn’t fill me up.”
I know what’s about to happen before it does. “Paw Paw! That is a no-no word! We do not talk like dat in dis house!”
My dad’s eyes widen, and he apologizes to his granddaughter as we all head inside to enjoy good food and even better company.
* * *
Natalie
Halloween is officially upon us. From the minute her little eyes popped open, Tatum’s been asking if it’s time for twick or treat yet. Needless to say, she’s excited.
It’s been all we could do to keep her entertained throughout the day. Having Phyllis and Bob here definitely helped. This morning, they made caramel popcorn, and after lunch, they had a spooky—but child appropriate—movie marathon. Tatum’s favorite was Hallo
ween Town; she’s truly a kid after my own heart.
Now, it’s time to start getting ready, and she’s practically bouncing with excitement. She and Alden came up with her costume, and they’ve kept totally quiet on what she’s going to be.
I’m currently camped out in the hallway, along with Alden’s parents, while he helps her get ready. The three of us have been tossing out our best guesses, but so far, no dice.
“A princess?” Phyllis tries.
Tatum scoffs. “I already a pwincess. Daddy says so.”
Bob takes the next guess. “A ballerina?”
“Nope,” comes her reply.
“A witch like Marnie!”
Tatum giggles. “No, Mama.”
The three of us continue tossing out suggestions until finally her bedroom door opens and they emerge.
I let out a little gasp when I see my girl and Alden dressed in matching chef whites. “I wanted to be like Daddy!” she exclaims, and I swear to God, Alden looks so proud.
My voice is heavy with emotion. “I think that’s perfect, Tater Tot. Absolutely perfect.”
“Tell her what else, pretty girl,” Alden urges.
Tatum’s eyes go round, and she dashes back into her room. When she returns, it is with an apron clutched in her grasp. She thrusts it toward me. I take it and shake it out, my eyes honing in on where the words Sous Chef are embroidered.
“Oh, I love it! It’s—” My words die in my throat when I glance up from the apron. Alden is down on one knee. Oh, my God. Is he…
“Nat, I’ve known you my entire life, and I’ve loved you just as long in one way or another. Every day my love for you grows and we’ve had enough missteps and missed time. Be my sous chef for life…my love, my partner at home and in business.”
I try to contain my sobs, but it’s a fruitless effort. Tears stream down my cheeks and my knees buckle, bringing down next to Alden.
He drops down and pulls me into him. “Make me the luckiest man on this planet and say ‘yes.’”
