Page 185 of Small Town Firsts

He’s out the door before I can even process everything that just happened. And my God, it’s a lot to process.Wine!I think.Wine will help.

I return to the couch, drink in hand, just in time to hear my phone ding. It’s a text. From him.

ALDEN

For real, Nat. Thank you.

I gulpdown half of my glass and reply.

NATALIE

Don’t thank me for doing what I should have done from the start. It’s the right thing to do. For you and for her.

He doesn’t replyafter that, and that’s okay; we’ve said all we need to—for now.

Thirty minutes later, Tatum is still napping. Normally, I wouldn’t let her sleep so long, but she’s had a big day, and honestly, I need some time to myself.

Sinking back into the couch, I relish in the peace and quiet—until the sound of my phone ringing cuts through the air. A quick glance at the screen shows my mom’s name. We’ve chatted a few times here and there since all of this happened, but my dad and I have yet to talk, which freaking kills me.

Not in the mood to deal with her, I send the call to voicemail. But she’s persistent and calls right back. I swipe my thumb across the screen. “Hey, Mom.”

“Natalie.” My name comes out as more of a sigh than a greeting.

“What’s up?” I ask, already feeling exasperated. I get that I let everyone down, but at this point, I feel like my parents need to accept what happened and move on. Every time my mom and I talk, it feels like we’re both walking on eggshells.

“Oh, your dad and I just wanted to check in.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t speak for Dad when we both know he hasn’t made an effort to speak to me since everything went down at Bayside.”

“Your father loves you, Nat. He’s just struggling.”

“He’s struggling? Really?” I count down from ten in an effort to not flip my shit. “I get that me being a teen mom was hard for y’all. I get me refusing to name the father was hard for y’all. But guess what? It. Was. Hard. For. Me. Too!

“I freaking lived it.Every day, I lived it. And I know I made mistakes and messed up, but I’m doing my best to right my wrongs in a way that’s best for Tatum. Because here’s the thing: she comes first. Now and always. Dad can either decide to forgive me and accept things for what they are or not—I’m not going to beg. But, Mom, I will not let this drama affect my daughter—your granddaughter—and y’all shouldn’t, either.”

Mom’s quiet for a long time, and patiently, I wait her out. Finally, she says, “Okay Natalie. Okay,” and ends the call. I’m not sure which part of my tirade she’sokaying, but whatever. I’ll take it. Okay is better than nothing, I guess.

As the week progresses,work, home, and school all run smoothly—even things with Alden seem to be looking sunny. You know, aside from lingering glances and a crackling sexual tension that we’re both determined to ignore. Which is why my defenses are up—I’ve learned by now that anytime life looks this bright, I should expect a black cloud to dump rain on me, pronto.

Or maybe it’s just nerves over our dinner at Alden’s tonight. Nerves over telling Tatum who he is. Yeah, that’s probably it. “C’mon Tater Tot! It’s time to go,” I say, poking my head into her room.

Only she’s not there.

Panic rushes through me, and I holler her name, sprinting from her room.

Relief fills my lungs just as quickly when I find her sitting on the floor at the front door. “I’s been ready,” she states in that no-nonsense way of hers. “I’s been waiting on you!”

“You scared me, Tater Tot. Why didn’t you answer me when I called for you?”

“You said we not yell through the house. I sorry.”

I crouch down and kiss her pudgy cheek, unable to argue with her logic. “It’s okay, baby. Let’s go. I bet your—Alden made us something tasty.”

The drive from our apartment to his house is quick—he lives much closer than I realized—walking distance, in good weather. His house is a split-level white brick ranch with a yard so picture-perfect the Cleavers would be jealous.

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