Best Laid Plans Page 6

  I throw an extra pair of panties and a pull-up into my bag for Tatum, along with her juice cup and a baggie of cinnamon Goldfish crackers. I start to holler for Tatum, but quickly clamp my lips shut, knowing it will undo my teaching her not to yell through the house. Instead, I set off in search of her, finding her in her bedroom packing her own bag. And—spoiler alert—it’s full of toys.

  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 blue Craftsman-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.

  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 me to 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 like 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?”

  I have not a single clue what that means, but all the same, I find myself saying, “I thought you’d never ask!”

  Conversation continues around us as she excitedly unzips her bag, but swear to God, if quizzed, I couldn’t tell you a word anyone else has said. This sweet little girl has me completely under her spell. I ooh and ahh appropriately when she pulls out a pink doll in a blue dress with a fluff of hair resembling cotton candy. “Dis is Poppy. She’s a pwincess.”

  “Like you?” I ask, serious as can be.

  Tatum breaks out into musical laughter. “I not a pwincess. I’m a Tatum.”

  “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. You can be a Tatum and a princess. In fact, I’m pretty sure all Tatums are princesses. Didn’t you know?”

  Her eyes are as wide as saucers. “I do have sparkly dresses and a tiara and pretty lipsticks.” Her pitch rises with every word. “I am a pwincess!”

  I tap my pointer finger to the tip of her nose. “Hell yeah, you are, and don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

  She sucks in a sharp breath. “You said a no-no word.” It takes everything I have not to laugh at how absolutely scandalized she sounds.

  “I guess I did. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Alden. Mama says we all make mistakes sometimes. She says it’s part of being hooman.”

  I grin. “It sounds like your mama is raising you right.”

  * * *

  Natalie

  Watching Alden with my—our—girl has me feeling like Humpty Dumpty after he had his great fall. I feel emotionally fragile, like at any second I could shatter into pieces.

  As she blabbers on about nothing and everything, he never once looks bored or put out. No. It’s quite the opposite. He looks enthralled—like every word from her mouth is the single most important thing he’ll ever hear. And while I should be over the moon that they’ve already managed to bond, I’m gutted.

  Absolutely gutted. Because now a whole new bout of issues is plaguing my mind. What if when he finds out, he decides he wants nothing to with her? What if he tries to take her from me? The what-ifs are as endless as the ocean, and the more I think about them, the more it feels like I’m drowning.

  Right when I think I can’t possibly take it any longer, my mom extends me a life raft in the form of a question. “Natalie, I know you asked if we could keep Tatum next Saturday for a few hours, but I was thinking maybe she could sleep over?”

  “Sure. She’d love that.”

  Mom claps her hands together in delight before scooting to the end of the couch
so that we’re closer together. “Aren’t Tatum and Alden precious together? He’ll make a fine father one day.” She gives me a little wink.

  I choke on air at her words, because Jesus, that hit too close to home. All of this regret is like an anvil around my ankle, dragging me to the bottom of the river. That feeling of suffocating is back, and I’m so beyond desperate for someone to talk to, but there’s no one here except us.

  “Nate!” I call out my brother’s name in a tone that’s just too loud for the small space. All talk ceases, and everyone turns to look at me. Kill me now.

  He whips around to face me with mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yes, Natalie?”

  “I-I thought you said this was a get-together. Where’s everyone else?”

  Nate scoffs, pretending to be offended. “What, the company of your family isn’t enough?”

  I clench my jaw, speaking through gritted teeth. “Not what I said.”

  “But it’s what you meant,” he goads. What is it about big brothers getting so much pleasure out of antagonizing their little sisters?

  “Not what I meant, either. I was just expecting more people.”

  “I invited a few other people, but they all had some reason or another they couldn’t make it.” Nate shrugs. “Which is fine by me—more food for us!” His words are in perfect harmony with the oven timer in the kitchen.

  “Food?” I ask. “Tatum and I ate before coming over.”

  Giving me the stink-eye, my brother grumbles, “Why? My food not good enough?”

  I can’t help but to laugh. “Nate. You can burn water.”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t all be fancy-schmancy cooks like you and Alden Gordon Ramsay over there.”

  At the sound of his name, Alden breaks away from his conversation with Tatum and turns to look at us. “Huh? What’s going on?”

  “Natalie was complaining about my kitchen skills.”

  Alden barks out a low, sexy laugh. “What kitchen skills?”

  “See!” I exclaim, air fiving Alden.

  He returns the gesture with a wink, causing my heart to drop to my stomach.

  “I’m so hungry I don’t care if it’s a soggy grilled cheese—let’s eat!” my dad says as he stands and leads the way into the kitchen.

  We all follow suit. Nate opens the oven door with a flourish and pulls out two frozen pizzas that are slightly charred around the edges—case in point. Wanting to be a gracious-ish house guest, I keep my smartass comments to myself. Alden and my mother, however, do not.

  “Nathanial Reynolds! You do not invite guests into your home and serve them store-brand freezer fare!”

  “Right? Up high, Mrs. Melanie.” Alden and mom slap their hands together. “Dude, you have to know I would’ve cooked.”

  “It didn’t feel right asking you to cook for your own party. That’s like wrapping your own Christmas gifts.”

  Tatum puts a stop to everyone’s bickering. “Peoples! Who cares? It’s pizza!”

  “That’s my girl,” my dad bellows as he scoops her up and pretends to fly her to the eat-in table. “Quit your bit—whining and eat!”

  After the pizza is long gone, it’s past Tatum’s bedtime, and her temperament shows it. Gone is my sweet, smiling girl, and in her place is a grump monster of epic proportions.

  She’s currently snuggled up in my dad’s lap with him soothing her little tantrums as they come. Every couple of minutes her eyelids droop closed before she bolts upright, a new bout of tears welling in her desperation to fend off sleep.

  Quietly, I excuse myself from the table to gather her toys. Once I’m positive I have everything, I make my way to the front door. Only a deep, masculine voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Looking back over my shoulder, I see Alden looking like a freaking Adonis, propped up against the little half wall-bookshelf-mah-jig between the entryway and the formal dining room that never gets used. Well, at least not for eating—Nate has a freaking pool table in it.

  My eyes eat him greedily, loving the way his dark wash denim hugs his powerful thighs. Gah. He’s seriously too sexy for his own good.

  “Just taking everything out to the car so I’ll be able to carry Tatum.”

  “Look at you, girl.” He pushes off of the wall and steps toward me, grinning. “Beauty and brains.”

  His playful words make my heart stutter in my chest. Did he just call me beautiful? Holy shit…

  Apparently, my face gives away every thought racing through my brain, because Alden laughs as he slips Tatum’s bag from the crook of my elbow. “You really are beautiful, you know that, right?”

  I can feel my cheeks turn rosy and warm with equal parts embarrassment and delight. Because let’s be real—there’s something so validating about your lifelong crush finding you attractive. Even if nothing will ever come of it, because you’re a lying liar who lies—even if your intentions were misguided but pure.

  “C’mon, Small Fry. I’ll help you get everything loaded up.”

  I want to argue with him, to send him away and do it myself—I mean, there are only two bags—but I don’t. Because my time with him is precious.

  We walk side by side to my car, his arm occasionally brushing against mine. I feel like a teenager on a first date, which is ridiculous. Alden pulls open the passenger door, and we toss the bags into the car. I start back the way we came, but he stops me with a hand to the wrist, gently tugging me back to him.

  I spin to face him, and he drags his eyes over me like he’s committing every detail to memory. His tongue darts out, running across his full, kissable lower lip, and I swear on all that’s holy, my thighs clench together. That’s how you know it’s been a while…when a guy licking his lips gives you a lady boner.

  “I gotta tell you, Nat, Tatum is something else. She’s so smart and articulate for a…what, three-year-old? And she’s so damn funny. Almost everything she said had me in stitches. I can tell a lot of that is how you have raised her; you’re an amazing mother.”

  I’m gonna puke. Exorcism style. I try to open my mouth to reply, but a small sob gets stuck in my throat. Alden, misreading my reaction, wraps me in his strong arms. “Shh. You’re good girl; you’re good.”

  But he’s wrong. So wrong. I’m far from good, and when he discovers all of my truths, he’ll see.

  “Th-thanks.” I pull out of his embrace, even though it feels more comforting than hot cocoa on a rainy winter day. “I-I better get Tatum…it’s p-past her bedtime.”

  He can tell something’s off with me—hell, I’m acting like I’m fresh out of the loony bin—but he nods all the same as he presses a hand to the small of my back and guides me to the house.

  Back inside, I quicken my pace, causing his hand to fall away. Being this close to him is not good for my sanity. Working with him his bad enough, but physical contact…yeah, it’s too much.

  We find everyone exactly where we left them, gathered around the kitchen table. My brother catches my attention, his eyes narrowed at the two of us like he just caught us toilet papering his house. I hope he’s not putting together any of my puzzle pieces—I’d like to keep them scattered for now, thank you very much. I shrug, and he arches a brow, silently saying we’ll talk later—though to which one of us, I’m unsure.

  Tatum is seemingly out cold. Now, I just have to hope she doesn’t wake up when I move her. I attempt to gently lift her from my dad’s chest, but she instantly wakes, letting out an ear-piercing shriek.

  I gently pat her lower back and rock her a little in my arms while whispering soothing words into her ears, but my girl is having none of it. She rubs at her eyes with her tiny fists before pointing toward Alden, muttering something under her breath between bouts of angry-tired-toddler sobs, but I can’t quite make out what she’s saying.

  “Say that again, Tater Tot. Mama can’t hear you.”

  This time she speaks clearly. “I. Wants. Alden.” With her arms stretched wide, she flings herself in his general directio
n, her momentum causing me to topple. Luckily, Alden is close enough to stop me from tumbling to the floor. He smoothly takes her into his arms, and she contentedly snuggles into his chest, her eyes already slipping shut.

  I shoot him an apologetic look, but he only smiles. And I mean he really smiles, beaming from ear-to-ear. After making the rounds of telling my parents and brother goodbye, Alden yet again walks out to my car with me. I watch on in awe as he effortlessly deposits her into her car seat. He makes an attempt to buckle her in, but laughs and steps aside. “I think this part is best left to the pros.”

  Once she’s safe and secure, I back away, and Alden softly shuts her door. “Thank you for—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Like I said earlier, that girl is something special. I’m shocked she doesn’t have your dad and Nate more wrapped around her little finger than she does.”

  At that, I laugh. “Don’t let her fool you. You just distracted her tonight.”

  His upper lips curls in a half smile. “Not gonna complain. She was the best part of my entire week.”

  I smile and wonder if he’ll feel the same once he knows she is his. Because ready or not, it’s time for Alden to know the truth.

  14

  Alden

  After this past weekend, thoughts of Natalie and Tatum have taken up residence in my brain, and like squatters, they refuse to leave. Saturday night after everyone left, Nate cornered me and asked me what was up with his sister and me.

  Wanting to keep my balls, I lied. Told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. Told him she was an employee and a friend and nothing more. Utter bullshit, because I can totally see Natalie becoming my everything.

  And her little girl? Damn, I may have only just met Tatum, but I already feel fiercely protective of her. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t really have a father figure, or maybe it’s because she’s Natalie’s kid. Hell if I know. We just got each other. It’s like her brain and mine connected on a whole other level.