Page 215 of Small Town Firsts

They join me at the table, both digging into their food right away. It’s agony waiting for her to notice the little box. I was really counting on her putting that napkin in her lap.

Finally, she makes a grab for it. “What’s this?” she asks, looking at it quizzically.

“Open it.”

She looks nervous, and I kind of love it.

She cracks open the box, revealing a key on a silver keychain. She lifts it from the box and reads the engraving—You already live in my heart. Share my home too.

Her eyes fill with tears, and I worry I’ve messed this all up.

Natalie quickly dispels that worry when she nods and rushes over to hug me. Not one to be left out, Tatum wriggles down and joins our embrace. “Mama, why you crying?”

“Happy tears, Tater Tot. Happy tears.”

Tatum pulls back and scrunches her nose. “Why?”

“How…how would you feel about us living here with Daddy?”

“Like a family? Like Nana and Popsie?”

“Yes, pretty girl,” I answer her, “just like that.”

“Yes! Please! Yes!” She launches herself back at me, burying her face in my chest. This is hands-down the best day of my life.

It’s beena month since I asked my girls to move in with me. As much as I’d love to say life has been perfect, I’d be lying. We bicker from time to time like an old married couple, and sometimes Tatum misses her old apartment. All in all, though, the transition has gone well, and really, when toddlers are involved, a few hiccups along the way are par for the course. And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing; it’s our own kind of perfect.

I was truly more apprehensive over telling our families than about us actually moving in together, but they took it shockingly well.

Nate simply shrugged and said, “Treat her right, brother.”

Her parents were excited. Melanie wrapped me in a hug and rocked us side to side. I’ll never forget my shock when Luke wrapped an arm around me and said, “Now you better make an honest woman out of my baby girl soon.”

Hell, I’d do it today—right this very second, in fact—and Natalie would probably be down with it too. But she deserves the fairytale every little girl dreams of, and I’m damn sure going togive it to her. Not to mention, Lord help us all if we deny Tatum the chance to dress fancy and be the center of attention—she would never forgive us.

My parents were over the moon—so much so that they’re flying in today and are staying through the first of November. I’m actually on my way to the airport now to pick them up, making this day one of five that they’ll be occupying my guest room—which equates to five days of Natalie being weird about sex. But, such is life.

Natalie and I tried getting them to hold off until Thanksgiving or Christmas, but they weren’t having it—they’re way too excited to meet Tatum face-to-face. According to them, they’ve waited long enough. Three years too long, to be exact. I know it wasn’t a dig toward Natalie, but I could tell it hurt her feelings. After that, I had a private talk with my mom and dad and asked them if they could refrain from making comments like that. Mom felt awful when she realized it had upset Natalie. She was insistent on apologizing, but I convinced her to let go and to just move forward.

Hopefully she doesn’t try and spring an ambush apology on her in person—with my mom, you never know.

I pull my car into the pick-up area, and sure enough, Mom and Dad are waiting, eagerly scanning every vehicle, like they don’t know what I drive—even though Dad consulted with me on which make and model to buy.

Gotta love parents.

I idle the car and pop the trunk before hopping out to help them. Dad waves me off, insisting on stowing his own luggage, and Mom wraps me in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, my baby! It’s been so long!” She kisses both of my cheeks and then peers around me into the backseat. “Where’s Tatum?”

“She’s at the house with Natalie.”

Mom pouts, looking much like Tatum does when she doesn’t get her way. “C’mon, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Dad shuts the trunk and comes around to hug me. It’s not one of those back-slap-man-hugs—no, it’s every bit as bone-crushing as Mom’s. “Son. You’re looking good. But take me to my grandbaby.”

I snort out a laugh. He’s every bit as bad as his wife—the two really are a match made in heaven.

The drive home is full-on nonstop chatter. We catch up on everything that’s happened since we spoke last, which isn’t much, seeing as we talk at least every two days.

They’re both anxious to meet Tatum; their excitement practically rolls off of them in waves. I have clearly been demoted in the hierarchy of importance.

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