Just In Time h.s

Chapter 04

She couldn't have. I was just probably imagining it. No way Darcy could have said that. How would she even know? Maybe she meant to say another word. She couldn't have possibly said that.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Darcy pulling on my shirt sleeve.

"Dadda." She pointed at the screen, directly at him. How could she have known?

"Baby. That's..that's not dadda." I hated lying to her, but I just couldn't put her through the same process I went through. The thought of my baby having to go through that heartache was just too much for me to handle. If he ever found out about her, I know he would pick his career over being a father for Darcy. He would leave her heartbroken with no explanation. What mother would put her child through that?

"Mumma. Dadda." She pointed back at the screen to a closeup of Harry's face. She always was very stubborn in her opinions.

"Darcy, that is not dadda." I could feel my voice tensing up.

"Mumma. Dadda! Dadda! Dadda!" She shrieked his undeserving title relentlessly and the anger was too much for me to handle.

"DARCY SHUT UP. THAT IS NOT YOUR DADDA. HE WILL NEVER BE YOUR DADDA. NOW JUST SHUT UP!" I was so angry. I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I wanted to take the glass vase filled with wilted flowers and just smash it against the wall. I wanted to rip all the pages out from every book in existence. I wanted to hurt him.

I was so consumed by my anger that I barely noticed Darcy cowered away in a corner with a pillow barricading her from me. What did I just do? I yelled at her. For no good reason. She thinks I'm a monster.

"Darcy, Darcy baby." I scooted closer to her, pushing the 90's tacky, circle printed pillow away. I put my hand on the small of her back and she let out a banshee like cry. I rubbed her back up and down, but it only made her cry out worse.

"Darcy. Darcy, please stop crying. Mommy is so sorry. Mommy didn't mean to yell. Mommy just got mad. Please baby. Please don't ignore mommy. Mommy is so sorry baby."

Her loud cries soon faded to quiet sniffles. I got off the couch and kneeled down in front of her face. She shifted her body away from me. I won't lie, a pang of hurt echoed in my body, but it was my fault. I gently placed my hand on her chubby upper arm and stroked her softly. She didn't let out a cry. Her sniffles soon faded into small snores.

I rose up from my knees and picked her up from her curled up position. At first she tried to resist me by pushing me away and banging her small fists against my chest, but she eventually gave up. I slowly rocked her back and forth, softly singing her favorite song.

"You are my one and only. You can wrap your fingers around my thumb and hold me tight." I stroked her hair gently, wrapping her curls around my finger. Her eyes were fluttering close and her furrowed expression faded into a blissful sleeping baby.

I sat back down on the couch, feeling that large dip and the two individual springs come undone and directed my attention back at the projected images of Harry Styles.

How could have Darcy known it was her father? How could she have so easily have been able to tell? She's never seen him in person. She's never heard his voice. She's never been in the same vicinity as him. Nothing. So how could my little baby have know?