Ours [harry styles] ✓

Forgiveness

The deflated tone of Harry's voice as he'd spoken to Nola last night had really struck a chord with me. I hadn't meant to make him sad, but then again he probably hadn't meant to upset me either.

I had let Nola babble and then I'd hung up. I hadn't spoken a word. It was the way it had to be while I figured out this mess. I didn't need distractions. I didn't need him clouding my brain and making me feel like this was about more than just our daughter. But I didn't want to be angry. I just wanted this to be easy.

After everything, I deserved easy.

As Nola managed to smear banana across her cheeks I removed myself from my dreary thoughts and went in search of the wipes. They were tucked inside the bag I'd taken to the party, which was also overflowing with presents and cards that I hadn't yet psyched myself up to deal with. I wasn't interested in discovering all the no doubt wonderful and horribly expensive gifts and cards that One Direction had gifted my daughter. If I was going to ignore Harry, then I was going to do it properly.

I dug my hands into the bag and began turfing the presents and cards out of it, resulting in a colourful and somewhat loopsided heap on the carpet. The contents of my bag was basically Christmas Day for Nola. I shook my head and made to get up from the carpet when one of the cards caught my eye. It was face down with only it's blank back showing, but in the bottom left hand corner there was a scribble of handwriting. Upon closer inspection it read"Anne" followed by a mobile number. Without hesitation I removed my phone from my pocket and dialled the number, my heart thumping as I waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" The warmth of her voice relaxed me immediately.

"Anne, it's Marnie." She let out a sigh of relief as if she'd been waiting for my call.

"I was really hoping you'd find my number. How are you feeling?" She clearly knew about the newspaper fiasco.

"Angry." I admitted. "Angry and disappointed."

"As a mother I wouldn't expect you to feel anything else, even if it is my own son caught up in it all." A part of me felt guilty talking about Harry with his mother and behind his back.

"The things is, Anne, I don't want to be angry with him. I think I am just because I wasn't really sure who else to blame. Sure, he's the reason that someone got hold of that photo, but I know that he wasn't the one who took it to the paper or wrote the story that went to print. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do about it now."

My eyes scanned the presents in the room and landed on a little green box of wipes. It dawned on me that Nola was still covered in banana and I stifled back a laugh. It was moments like these when I wanted Harry to be here with this daughter. I wanted him to see even the ridiculously small and yet hugely hilarious parts of her life, not be the cause of the more public and daunting ones.

"You've got to call him, Marnie." Anne instructed me. "He's absolutely miserable right now."

"And say what?" I huffed. "What on earth is anyone supposed to say when they are in the biggest mess of their life? And that's saying something considering I was a single teen mom at the age of eighteen with a support network that consisted of one Niall Horan obsessed blonde bimbo. Now that was a mess." Anne chuckled at the other end. 

"Well I would start with what you said to me about not wanting to be angry. He just has to know how you feel, Marnie. You've got to give him something to work with here." I squeezed my eyes shut as she continued talking. I wasn't going to cry. "You might think Harry's only in this for Nola, but he cares about you too. It's killing him already that he's had to go on tour and separate himself from his daughter, imagine how he feels knowing he's left everything in a mess with you and there's nothing he can do about it."