Page 154

She turns her big doe eyes my way and sticks out her lower lip. “It won’t zip, Mama!”

“That’s because it’s too full. How about we pick three?”

“Four?” she hedges.

“Sure, four. But hurry, or we’re going to be late.”

Then again, maybe I should ask her to take her time. Hell, maybe I should call and say she’s sick. I’m sick. We need to be quarantined.

Sigh, I wish.

The drive to Nate’s house flies by, and before I know it, I’m pulling directly behind my parents’ car in front of his little blueCraftsman-style bungalow. By the looks of it, we’re one of the first to arrive, or this little get-together is more intimate than I was led to believe.

I’m a bundle of nerves as Tatum and I walk up the little sidewalk leading to the porch. The door swings open before I even get a chance to knock, revealing Nate standing there with open arms, waiting for a hug from his niece.

He wastes no time scooping her up and twirling her in a big circle, the sound of her laughter beckoning to my parents, wherever they are inside. As soon as Nate sets her down, Nana and Popsie are there waiting to dote on her. It’s honestly like some sort of toddler receiving line, and at the end of it is Alden.

CHAPTER 13

ALDEN

For some unexplainable reason,the thought of meeting Nat’s daughter has me tied in knots. Or maybe it’s merely the idea of seeing Natalie as a mom with my own two eyes—fuck, does that make her a MILF? Because I’d definitely like to…

A flash of headlights through the front window derails that train of thought…thank God. The last thing I need is to pop a boner in front of the entire Reynolds clan when I’m about to meet the youngest member of their family.

Nate makes his way to the door, opening it before they even have a chance to knock. Instantaneously the sound of sweet, high-pitched laughter floats through the house. Luke and Melanie are quick to head for the door, ready to smother their granddaughter with hugs and kisses.

Once she’s had enough, the little girl draws back, but stops when she sees me. Her mossy green eyes study me. She starts at my scuffed-up boots and slowly works her way up, taking me in. When her eyes land on mine, something tight pinches in my heart. I don’t know this kid from Adam, but damn, I can just tell she’s something special.

She tilts her head to the side, further assessing me. “Who’s you?” she asks with all the honesty of a toddler.

I crouch down in front of her so that we’re eye level. “I’m Alden, and you are?”

“Tatum. I’s Tatum.”

I shoot a quick glance to Natalie, who has her left palm pressed firmly to her chest, before extending my hand toward Tatum. She looks at me funny before placing her tiny, slightly sticky hand into mine. I shake it. “Nice to meet you, Tatum.”

She blushes and pulls her hand back from mine. I rise to standing, my eyes landing once again on Natalie. Despite looking stunning in her tight white jeans, she looks a little green around the gills, like she’s two seconds from either puking or passing out.

I walk over to greet her. “You all good, Small Fry? You look—” I don’t get to finish my sentence because suddenly Tatum is running circles around my feet.

“Small fwy? For reals? My mama calls me Tater Tot! Which do you like better?” she asks, moving at what seems like a speed her short legs shouldn’t be capable of. “Fwys or tots? I like dem both with ketchup. I looove ketchup. Do you?”

I want to answer her, but I’m too hung up on Natalie calling her Tater Tot. I guess she didn’t hate that silly nickname as much as she led me to believe when we were growing up.How interesting.

Finally, Natalie finds her voice. “Take a breath, child.” Tatum stops her circles and does exactly as her mother says, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. “Good girl. Now, let’s all go sit down, and maybe then you can ask Mr. Alden a few questions.”

Mr. Alden…I ruminate, turning that over a few times in my head as I trail behind everyone toward the family room. Somehow, it just doesn’t feel right.

Nate and his parents settle onto the couch while Natalie snags the recliner, pulling her little girl onto her lap, leaving meto occupy the loveseat. Mrs. Reynolds is asking me about how I’m liking being home when Tatum shocks the shit out of all of us, by scooting off of her mother’s lap, grabbing her backpack, and climbing up next to me.

Natalie is quick to protest, but her voice comes out more wobbly than firm. “T-Tatum, Mr. Alden?—”

“It’s fine,” I rush out, cutting her off. “It’s totally fine, and you can just call me Alden.”

I feel like my words shock her as much as they do me. Hell, they probably shock everyone. It’s not like I’m particularly familiar with children, but she’s a tiny charmer, and something tells me she’ll soon have me wrapped around her little finger, like everyone else in this room.

Nat looks like she’s on the verge of tears, which is fucking odd, but Tatum simply nods happily. “Okay, Alden. Wanna see my Poppy Troll?”