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Tatum and I walk up the little stepping stone path that leads from the driveway to the front porch. Well, I walk; Tatum runs. Her little fist is pounding on the beautiful blue door before I even make it halfway. Needless to say, the kid is excited.

The door swings open, and a very nervous-looking Alden appears. I’ve never in my life seen the man look more frazzled. Tatum flings herself into his arms, and right before my very eyes, his stress melts away. It’s beautiful and completely reaffirms it’s time to tell her. So, those rainy clouds I was worrying about can take a hike because tonight is going to be nothing but rainbows and happy tears.

Reminiscent of his first time at our house, I have to ask if he’s going to invite us in. Which he promptly does, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, making him look younger than he is.

“What you cooks us?” Tatum asks, smelling the air like a dog sniffing out its dinner. “It smells like pizza.”

Alden reaches a hand over his left shoulder, rubbing at the space between his shoulder blades. “Ah, about that. Itispizza. I planned on grilling steaks, but they…didn’t turn out.”

Oh, my. I might just die from the cuteness. “Alden Warner, did you get nervous and burn our dinner?”

He studies his feet like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe.”

“Ha!” My laugh bubbles up and out before I can stop it. He glares at me for about two seconds before he starts laughing, too.

Meanwhile, Tatum’s looking at the two of us like we’re insane. “Peoples! Pizza is no laughing matter. My tummy wants it! Now!”

“Yeah, true that,” Alden agrees, hoisting her up and flying her, airplane-style, all the way to the kitchen.

We waste no time digging into the gloriously cheesy pie. We’re all on our second slice when I decide it’s time.

“Tater Tot, there’s something we want to tell you.”

“Der is? What?” She takes another bite, cheese stringing from her lip down to the slice on her plate.

Alden reaches over and severs it, leaving Tatum to happily slurp it up into her mouth. “What, Mama? What!”

“We wanted to say…to tell you that…um.” Alden trips over his words in the most endearing way.

Tatum though, she’s fed up with waiting. “You Mama’s boyfriend now?”

“No!” Alden rushes out, his eagerness to correct her is a small arrow to my heart. “No, pretty girl. That’s not it.”Guess I’m good enough to kiss but not to date.The thought invades my mind uninvited, but I send it packing. Tonight is not about me.

Tatum pouts and her shoulders slump forward. “Why does that make you so sad, Tater Tot?” I ask.

“A’cause if Alden was you boyfriend, he could be my daddy.”

We both inhale sharply. All this time, I thought Tatum was content—happy with it being just the two of us. The knowledge of all that I’ve truly deprived her of is another arrow to my heart,only this one splinters and embeds itself into the very core of the muscle.

“I am.” Alden chokes out the words. “I am your daddy.”

Tatum swivels to face him so fast her movement is a blur. With her eyes wide and her heart on her sleeve, she asks, “You are? For reals?”

“Yeah, pretty girl, for really reals.”

She shoves her chair back from the table so hard it topples over, but that doesn’t stop her. She’s on a mission—and that mission is to hug her dad. She flings herself onto his lap and wraps her arms and legs around him in a monkey hold.

He hugs her close and presses his lips to the top of her head. I feel like I’m intruding on a magical but private moment, so I quietly excuse myself and retreat to the kitchen. But as I go, I hear my girl whisper through her happy tears, “I lub you, Daddy Alden. A lot.”

Tears wet my cheeks as I cry silently. I’m not sad. I’m happy—so incredibly happy. And remorseful. And full of regret. It’s funny how back then, I was so convinced I was doing the right thing…how I planned this all out to make sense in my mind. But, we know what they say about the best-laid plans.

The sound of their muffled talking floats into the kitchen. I’m tempted to listen in, but I know that this is their time. Still, the temptation is strong. In an effort to fight it, I let myself out onto the back porch.

But the nighttime silence is too much. I need a distraction. Fumbling, I slide my phone from my back pocket and dial my brother. No answer—duh, he was switched to night shifts last week. Unsure of who else to call, I find myself scrolling to Jenny’s contact info. I hit the green button, and she answers on the first ring.

“Nat! Hey girl!”

“H-hey.” My voice breaks.