About (Harry Styles)

Chapter LXXXVX

In the middle of reading Charlotte one of her Disney bedtime stories, a knock appears at the door of the room where Charlotte and I were sleeping for the night.

"May I join you?" Harry peeks through the door.  He's already showered and clothed in black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.

"Daddy!" Charlotte shouts from the bed.  I suddenly tense, hearing the word.  She's never called him by that yet.  She's always referred to him as Harry.

"Lottie!"  An over-enthusiastic Harry copies her tone as he climbs into bed with us, sitting beside Charlotte.  He sweeps the blanket over his long legs and shifts to lean his elbow on the pillow.  "What's mommy reading to you?"

"Toy Story! It's about Ham and Rex hiding Mr. Potato Head's body parts because they got mad at him for saying their exercising idea wasn't a good idea," Charlotte replies, her green eyes lighting up at him; but the light in her eyes suddenly fades when she purses her small lips together.

"What is it, baby?" I ask, concerned.

Her bottom lip curls as she gazes down at the sheets.

"Can I call you that?" She asks, turning to Harry...her father.

Her innocent question tugs at my heart slightly.  The fact that she even has to ask this question -- it breaks my heart. 

Charlotte deserves to have everything in the world and as a mother, I want to give her the world. But the one thing she's always wanted was something I was never able to give her -- a father. 

"Yeah, I'd like that very much, Lottie," he says to her. His finger playfully brushes her button nose, and she scrunches with a giggle. 

"I knew you would come back to us.  Mommy didn't believe me, but I always knew you'd come back for us."

"Well, I'm glad you waited for me," he whispers, his eyes darting towards me, one corners of his lips uplifting. "It must have been fate."

After Harry reads one bedtime stories in his "funny voice" as Charlotte called it, she finally falls asleep between us. I think back to the nights where it was only Charlotte and I sleeping in the same room. She's only been comfortable sleeping with me or Chris. And it usually takes more than just one story or movie to put he down. Somehow with Harry, she falls asleep more complacently and easily.

"Who knew," Harry suddenly says to me.

"Who knew what," I smile, running my finger along Charlotte's hairline.

"That we'd be here. Right now. Like this," Harry says as he takes my hand. His gaze falls onto them as his thumb lingers back and forth "Were you scared .. of raising her alone?"

"Terrified," I admit. "But I wasn't alone."

"Chris helped you," he says in a sullen tone, probably upset that someone else, not him, got to see Charlotte grow up. "When did you know .. you were pregnant?"

"Maybe .. about a month after I left."

Harry's eyes flit to mine, somber and regretful.  I know Harry's the type of person to feel sorry for me.  In this situation, anyone would, but I didn't want him to be. I chose to have Charlotte. It was my choice, and it was taking responsibility for my actions.