Page 201 of Small Town Firsts

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 is 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.

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 giveher 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?”

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