"Come here, baby." My three year old daughter toddles into my arms. "It's alright." There's a knock on the apartment door and I stare through the peephole. Louis.
"Not too busy with fame, I see." I shout, trying desperately to stop Kaitlyn from wailing.
"Jenna, let me in."
"No way!"
"I'm his father!"
"She's a girl, Louis." I punch the door with my fist and he jumps back.
"Let me meet my daughter, Jenna come on!"
"You left me! You left me to tour the world with your 'best friends'! You told the world you were gay!" I shout at him, holding the baby closer. "You were gone for 3 years!"
"It was a joke, Jen! I never stopped thinking about you!"
"But did you come back? Did you come to support me or your daughter? No! You kept touring! You kept partying and spending each night with a different girl!"
"I'm here now, Jenna! I want to meet her!"
"It's too late, Louis Tomlinson. I'm done with you. I had to quit modeling. I had to quit school. You ruined my life!"
"Just... Let me see her? Please?"
"No. You aren't going to ruin her life too!"
"Mommy?" Nikki's eyes fill with tears.
"Everything is alright baby." I tell her, stroking her brown hair. Louis pounds on the door again and Nikki bursts into tears.
"Let me see her!"
"NO! I'M CALLING THE POLICE!" I grab Nikki and the phone and dial.
"What's your emergency?" The woman on the other end of the phone asks.
"My ex-boyfriend won't leave me or my daughter alone. He's shouting and he won't leave the apartment."
"Is he currently inside your apartment?"
"No he's outside the door." I tell her, glancing through the peephole again. Louis' face is streaked with tears. He mouths something over and over.
'please,'
'please,'
'please,'
"We're on our way, ma'am, please get out of the way of the door." I hang up the phone in shock. All he wanted to do was meet his daughter.
"We're going to court with this!" Louis shouts as I run to my bedroom and lock the door. I set Nikki in her crib and stroke her hair until she falls asleep. There's no more yelling so I walk back into the living room and turn on the TV. More about Louis, going to clubs, hooking up with sluts, getting drunk, causing a complete ruckus. Nothing about his ex-girlfriend or three year old daughter. Nothing about his cries for help; his cries for love. Nothing about the real Louis Tomlinson. The one that climbed through my window those chilly autumn nights to rub the sore spots where my dad hit me. Nothing about the tender kisses down my neck that showed how much he cared. Not one thing about that one summer night where love was exchanged between him and I. Nothing about the broken condom. Nothing about Katie.
Nothing about the Louis William Tomlinson I knew.
"
