Page 66 of Best Laid Plans

Natalie has beena knot of tension and stress since telling me she wanted to have her parents over. I know they have a lot of shit to sort through and a lot that was left unresolved. So, I’m hoping this will be good for them and help get their relationship back on the right track.

In an effort to defuse a little tension, I told her to invite Jenny and Nate. She lit up at the suggestion, which made me feel all proud and caveman-y.

Currently, she’s in the kitchen obsessing over the sides she is making to go with my grilled chicken and sausage. She actually started prepping everything the night before at her place, and I swear, my eyes about my bugged out of my skull when she and Tatum got here this morning and she sent me to her car to help bring things in.

There is an apple crumb pie in the oven, along with scalloped potatoes. On the stove, she has homemade baked beans simmering and a pot of water boiling for her macaroni—she made the cheese sauce last night.

“Gonna go check the grill,” I call over my shoulder, Tatum following along behind me like a pint-sized shadow. But I don’t mind—I love that she wants to be around me, and I especially enjoy her enthusiasm for cooking. It’s almost crazy how much alike we are, even without her knowing me for most of her life.

“How you knows when it’s ready?” Tatum asks, standing on her tippy-toes in an effort to see.

“Careful, pretty girl. It’s hot.”

She watches with wide eyes as I hover my hand, palm side down, over the grate of the grill. “You be careful too, Daddy.”

I grin at her. “Will you help me count?”

Together we begin counting, only making it to five before I have to pull my hand away. “Why we did dat?”

“How long I can keep my hand there tells me how hot the grill is. It still needs a bit more heat to get a good sear on the chicken.”

“Whoa!” My girl sounds thoroughly impressed. “I try it?”

“Maybe when you’re a little bit older.”

She sticks her lower lip out in the cutest pout known to mankind. “Fine. I go help Mommy.” She pivots and runs toward the house, leaving me to chuckle in her wake.

Back inside, Natalie is chopping away at a head of lettuce, presumably for a salad. “Where’s Tatum?” I ask, coming up behind her and dropping a kiss to her neck after checking the coast was clear.

“She didn’t like that I didn’t have a job for her, so she is up in her room playing.”

“It’s sweet how much she likes to help.”

Natalie nods her agreement, too focused on making uniform cuts on her tomatoes to reply verbally.

I’m about to ask her how she’s feeling when the sound of my doorbell rings through the house. Tatum comes flying down the stairs. “Nana! Popsie! Der here!”

I catch her at the landing and swoop her up and around my shoulders like a toddler scarf. Her giggles are contagious, and by the time we make it to the door, we’re both laughing.

I swing it open, only to be met with a triple whammy—all of our guests have arrived together, and poor Tatum doesn’t know who to greet first. She wiggles and I set her down on the floor. “Nana! Popsie! Uncle Nate! Miss Jenny! Dis is the best day ever!”

We all stand there awkwardly, until Luke—Mr. Reynolds—drops to his knees and engulfs his granddaughter in a bear hug. Melanie is quick to follow suit, peppering Tatum’s face with kisses, murmuring in between then how much she has missed her.

After their reunion, Tatum wraps herself around Jenny’s leg, tugging on the hem of her top, begging her to hold her. “Miss Jenny! You’re here! You watchTrollswith me?”

Before Jenny can reply, Nate slaps a hand over his chest. “Hello? What am I? Chopped liver?”

Tatum cracks up. “Ew. No. Liber is yuck.”

“Then get over here and hug me, Tater Tot!” Jenny passes Tatum to Nate, and I notice her giving him a slow perusal—how interesting.Nat will have a field day with that.

“Uncle Nate, you wants to see my room?” Tatum asks, batting her lashes up at my best friend.

“You know I do.”

She squeals in his arms. “You too, Miss Jenny! You’ll love it!”

Together, the three of them set off up the stairs, while I shut the front door and head back toward the kitchen. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

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