Page 67 of Best Laid Plans

Natalie and her mother are making small talk, while her dad silently bores a hole into her head with his laser focus.

“We’re glad y’all could make it,” I say, and Natalie smiles gratefully.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Melanie says, but her tone lacks the warmness it used to hold when she spoke to me. As much as I love Tatum, and as much as I would never trade her or give her up for anything, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt to get the cold shoulder from Melanie and Luke. They truly were like second parents to me growing up.

“Can I get y’all something to drink?” I walk over to the fridge, swinging the double doors open wide. “I’ve got beer, wine, lemonade with fresh mint, tea, water.”

“You drink in front of Tatum?” Mr. Reynolds barks out, and my hackles rise.

“Do we haveadrink with a meal in front of Tatum? You betcha. Do we getdrunk?Absolutely not.” I’m not sure what he’s getting at, especially seeing as a drink or two—especially during football season—was a common occurrence in the Reynolds household growing up.

He steps a little closer to his wife as if looking for back up. “You think that sets a good example?”

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Natalie, on the other hand, looks ready to spit fire. Gently, I place my hand over hers—something both of her parents catch—letting her know that I’ve got this. She pauses and looks down at the now mangled carrot she was chopping and rolls her eyes.

“You know,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “I certainly don’t think it’s a bad example. We never over-imbibe. We never have more than a drink with dinner. Nothing wrong with that.”

Natalie’s dad huffs like a bull about to charge a red flag. “And you know what’s best for her after being a father for all of ten minutes?”

Melanie looks torn between being horrified by her husband’s behavior and wanting to support him out of obligation.

“Why can’t you just get over this?” Natalie screams. “Even excusing that I’m your only daughter, are you so prideful and stubborn you’d risk your relationship with Tatum over something that really has nothing to do with you?”

“Natalie! Luke! Enough!” Melanie yells forcefully. “I’ve allowed this to drag on far too long. Your daughter is right.”

At the sound of our raised voices, Tatum flies into the room, with Nate and Jenny hot on her heels. She flings herself into her mother’s arms before reaching out and grabbing my sleeve to pull me closer. “Why’s eb-ry one being so loud? I don’t like it.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, and suddenly, I feel like a rotten jackass. What the hell are we thinking hashing this out where she can hear?

I place my hand on her cheek and guide her eyes to mine. “Sometimes grownups disagree and argue. We’re sorry we upset you, pretty girl.”

She sniffles and clings tighter to Natalie. “Why you mad? Did Popsie break your toy?”

Nat buries her face in Tatum’s hair. “No, Tater Tot, Popsie didn’t break one of my toys. We’re just…having a disagreement. Kind of like when I ask you to pick up your room, and you don’t want to. Everything’s okay.”

I’m hoping like hell Tatum’s presence will be what it takes to break this ice and to get us on the path to a resolution, but a glance over to Luke tells me that’s not going to be the case—he looks utterly repulsed.

“How sweet,” he sneers. “Playing house doesn’t make up for all of the—”

I have no desire to hear whatever this man has to say. In the brief amount of time he’s been under my roof, he’s made both Natalie and Tatum cry, and that shit’s not going to fly with me.

“That’s enough.” I keep my tone low, as not to scare my daughter, but it’s also deadly, showing just how serious I am. “With all due respect, sir, your daughter was faced with a situation far beyond her years, and while she definitely made mistakes, she handled it in the way she thought was best at the time. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you sit here and make the woman I love feel even worse than she already does. We’re both moving forward, and you can either move with us or get left behind.”

All of the women in the room are misty-eyed, and when Nat palms my cheek and turns my face toward hers, the full impact of what I just said hits me like a freight train.

“You love…me?” Her voice is so small and unsure.

As I look at her, cradling our daughter close to her chest, I swear to God I see our past and our future flash before my eyes. “I do. I really do love you, Nat.”

A small sob squeaks past her lips. “I-I love you too.” She looks down at her feet and then back at me. “I always have.”

“Does dis mean your mama’s boyfriend now?” Tatum asks, reaching for me.

I take her into my arms and touch my nose to hers. “Yeah, pretty girl, I guess it does.”

“You need to talk to them,” Melanie hisses at her husband under her breath, but all I can focus on is what Jenny murmurs from behind them.

“Lord Jesus, remind me to never settle for anyone who doesn’t look at me the way you look at Natalie.”

Natalie’s brows pinch together. “H-how does he look at me?”

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