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Back in the guest room, I crawl under the covers and will my mind to shut down. Finally, after what feels like forever, sleep takes me.

I wake feeling more relaxed and rested than I’ve felt in a long time. A quick glance at my phone tells me why. It’s nine-thirty—well past the time I set my alarm for.

As fast as I can, I step into my shorts and dash toward Tatum’s room. But she’s not there. I fly down the stairs, only tocome up short at the sight of Tatum and her daddy in the kitchen cooking up a feast.

I stay put in the shadows, observing them together, my heart swelling with emotion. Their relationship is so effortless. I can only hope mine and Alden’s will be the same.

At the sound of their combined laughter, I step into the room. “I see y’all got the party started without me.”

“We’s not at a party. We’s making breakfast. Pamcakes!”

“Ooh, I love pancakes. What kind?”

“All da kinds!” Tatum gleefully yells.

“And by that, she means, banana walnut, chocolate chip, and old-fashioned buttermilk.” Alden waves his arms Vanna-White-style toward the island. “In the way of toppings, we have sliced bananas, freshly made whipped cream, and strawberries.”

“Y’all went all out, huh?”

“Yes! Daddy said we was gonna make it for you and surprise you in bed. But, you waked up.”

“Breakfast in bed, really?”

“Thought you might enjoy being taken care of for once.” Swear to God, I’m a puddle of swoon at this man’s feet. “I heard your alarm going off, and I might have turned it off and woke Tatum up. Hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Well, you aren’t gonna hear me complain. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in.”

“You deserve it, Nat. Now, let’s eat!”

We dig in, each of us choosing a different flavor. I go for the banana walnut, Tatum obviously devours the chocolate chip topped with whipped cream, and Alden opts for the buttermilk doused in syrup and covered with strawberries. All in all, it’s been the perfect morning, and if I play my cards right, there will be a lot more of them.

The rest of the day is spent poolside, breaking only for lunch—grilled cheese and tomato soup. We swim and soak up the sun until it starts to dip below the horizon.

Alden makesgood on his promise of wooing me. So much so that here we are, two weeks out from what I like to callRemembrance Day,and he’s just now taking me out on our first real, official date.

Now, that’s not to say that just because we haven’t had our date yet that he hasn’t been wooing me. Because, sweet baby Jesus, he has. From fresh coffee waiting for me on my opening shifts, to shoulder rubs, and even a spa day, that man has been wooing my socks off.

Our dateless status is not from lack of trying, either. He’s been slammed at work, trying his hardest to revive our sweet little café, and my class load has been kicking my ass—who knew accounting was so damn hard? The only highlight in all of this is even though we’re moving at a snail’s pace, he’s still a regular fixture in my and Tatum’s lives.

Any time I need a little extra help—and even when I don’t—he’s there. We eat dinner together most nights—sometimes at my place, and sometimes a quick bite at the café. Lord knows Tatum thinks going to Mama and Daddy’s work is the best thing ever.

But back to the date thing. I’ve cycled through every outfit in my closet. Usually I would break out my trusty wrap dress, but maybe on this first date, Idowant to put out. I’m in a downward spiral of fashion despair when my doorbell rings.

“Come in,” I holler, knowing good and well it’s Jenny. Since I’m still not on the best of terms with my parents, and Nate’s still working nights, she agreed to keep Tatum for us tonight.

Jenny’s cheery voice fills my apartment as she greets Tatum. “Hey Lil’ Mama!”

“I’s not a mama!” Tatum informs her, mild toddler outrage coloring her tone.

“My bad. Are you excited for us to hang out tonight?”

I can’t see my daughter, but I can vividly picture her reaction. Most likely she’s tapping her pointer finger against the sweet, little dimple in her chin pondering the question.

“That a’pends. Will you paint my fingernails? Can we have dessert first? And can we watchTrolls?”

“I will even paint your little piggies. No ma’am, dinner first. And you betcha.”

It’s quiet for a minute and then Tatum says, “Two outta free, not bad. Oh. You go helps Mama?”