Page 159 of Small Town Firsts

I’m ready with twenty minutes to spare, which is no good since Tatum is already at my parents’ house. I’m anxious and restless, like a caged lion. I’ve been pacing the short hallway for at least five minutes when I decide a glass of wine to take the edge off is exactly what I need.

Moving to the kitchen, I grab the bottle of Riesling from the fridge and a stemless glass from the cabinet, pop the stopper, and pour. I take a sip, relishing the burst of crisp fruit across my tongue.

Yes. This is just what I needed.

The temptation to pour a second glass is strong, but I re-cork the bottle and rinse my glass in the sink. I want to dull my nerves, not get white-girl wasted.

I resume my pacing until a knock at my door lets me know it’s showtime. In hindsight, I should have insisted on driving myself instead of letting Alden pick me up. But he used his charm like a weapon and wore me down, plus I’ve known him forever. But, it’s still a bit weird. I’m pretty sure the last guy to pick me up for a date was pot-dealing Paul.

I debate simply not answering the door, but knowing Alden, he’d find a way in. I crack my back, neck, and knuckles, and head to the door.

On the other side stands Alden, dressed in a pair of Nantucket Red chinos and a navy-and-white buffalo check button-down. Sounds like it wouldn’t work, but my God, it looks like it was made for him, and him alone. He honestly looks so damn fine that my words seem to dry up and desert me.

Alden, on the other hand, not so much. “Damn girl. You look so good.” He leans in for a kiss, but I sidestep him. He chuffs out a laugh. “Okay then, Nat. We’ll play it like that.” Ever the gentleman, he opens my car door for me and helps me into my seat. His hand on the small of my back sends sparks racing through my bloodstream and to my heart.

Alden tries to start up a conversation on the drive, but I stick to one or two word answers. I can tell he’s confused by my erratic behavior, but my God, this feels more like being led to stand before a firing squad than a dinner between old friends, much less a date.

I think he’s pretty much resigned to our night being a flop by the time he parks. He’s taken me to R Bistro—a personal favorite of mine, due largely in part to their steaks being so tender you can cut them with a spoon. Not that we’ll be here long enough toorder. I try to offer him a grateful smile, but it’s most likely more of a grimace.

Even with me acting like I have split personality, Alden opens my door and helps me out.Gah!He even takes my hand in his, and like the selfish bitch I am, instead of pulling away, I savor it, knowing it will probably be the last time.

Inside, Alden informs the hostess he called ahead for a table, and she takes us right back. We’re in a little alcove; it’s private and romantic and all wrong for what’s about to go down.

“What are you in the mood?—”

Our server arrives, cutting him off. “Welcome to R Bistro. My name is Jamal, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Tonight, our specials are a blackened red snapper served atop a bed of wilted greens and whipped purple cauliflower puree, or a pan-seared filet of beef with sweet potato mash and broccolini. But for now, may I take your drink orders?”

Alden orders a pale ale while I opt for a glass of water. My beverage choice earns me a brow quirk, but I can’t stomach the thought of anything else at the moment.

Our server heads off to retrieve our drinks, and I decide it’s now or never. “I…I have something to tell you.”

Alden nods, encouraging me to continue.

“Y-you’re not gonna like it.” I lick my lips nervously. “In fact, you probably won’t like me.”

“You’re freaking me out, Small Fry.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from crying at the use of his nickname for me.Might as well add it to the list of shit that ends tonight…

“It’s about Tatum.”

Alden immediately looks alert. “What? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

This. This right here is what dying must feel like.“Oh, no. She’s…she’s fine. It’s just that…” I let my words fall off, wondering how in the hell to say this.

Impatient, Alden prompts, “It’s just what, Natalie? You’re building this up to something momentous and freaking me the fuck out.”

I cringe.Ugh, I’m messing this all up. “It’s about her dad…” I lock eyes with him. “You’re her dad.”

Whatever reaction I was expecting, Alden’s laughter wasnotit. Only it’s not humorous laughter, it’s dry and decidedly dark. “Not funny, Natalie. Get real.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging hard on the ends. “Jesus. I thought you really had something to tell me.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat. “I’m being real. You’re her father.”

He looks almost sick to his stomach as he eyes me skeptically. “You do realizesexis required to procreate, right?”

I nod, my eyes welling with tears. “You—” My voice breaks. “You remember that night, the summer before my senior year, when you woke up and I was in the guest room with you?”

His stare is blank, almost as if he’s somewhere else. “Yeah, Nat, I do.”

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