Can We Fall One More Time?™ ♥ Harry Styles

Chapter 1

“Are you sure about this?” my best friend Skylar asked me.

I sighed. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't do this?” I was french braiding my 2 year old daughter Drea's thick curly hair into two braids. I held the braid I was working on as I reached around her to the top of the vanity to turn down my iPod—“The A Team” by Ed Sheeran was playing, one of my favorite songs.

Honestly, my stomach was in knots—as in, I could barely even move because I would puke. But I had made up my mind—I was going to do this.

“Think about this—“ Skylar continued, but I interrupted her.

“I have thought about it. Long and hard. This is the right thing.”

“Are you sure? Think about what you're doing—to her, to everyone involved. And what if he—“

“Whoa, wait a minute. Think about what this would do to her? What about not having a father, or at least not knowing who your father is if he does by chance not want to see her. At least this way she'll have met him.”

“If he does say he doesn't want to see her again, or he denies she's his, like she's gonna remember meeting him when she was two?”

“She'll remember,” I said quietly, looking sadly at my beautiful daughter's reflection in the mirror. There was no way he could even deny her; Drea looked almost exactly like him, especially when he was a baby—okay, so sue me, I googled his baby pictures. No one could blame me, after all, I carried his daughter for nine months, gave birth to her, and have been raising her for two years on my own. The least I could do was google him occasionally.

“So, what are you going to do, just as you're both walking through the line, 'We're huge fans, can I have an autograph? Oh, and by the way, this is your daughter'? Do you really think that's the best idea?”

“What other choice do I have, Sky?” I shot back. “When am I ever gonna have another opportunity to do this? First of all, I had to pay big bucks for all this VIP stuff to even have this opportunity. What, I'm supposed to stalk the hotel they're staying in, sneak in—past all their bodyguards I might add, who have been ramped up since the New York incident, which makes that option oh, an impossible feat—by the way, here's your daughter? Or backstage after the concert, ruining the entire thing for them? I don't think so.”

“Ruining that entire thing for them? This whole thing is gonna ruin everything—“

“You think I don't know that?” I practically yelled. Skylar looked completely shocked, and Drea looked so upset, I was scared she would start crying, and I nearly panicked, but I wouldn't back down. “But do you know how hard this is for me? I'm supporting both of us on a waitress's salary. You're gonna takehis side? He has enough money for child support, at the least. And letting her grow up without a father, without even saying I tried to reach out to him? Growing up without a father ruined my life. I am not gonna do that to my baby girl.” I drew in a deep breath, and hugged Drea from behind.

“Are you ready to meet One Direction??” I asked her enthusiastically.

Drea clapped both hands and bounced in the chair. “One D'ection!” My daughter was a huge 1D fan—thanks to me. Knowing her father was in the band, hating him for it on the one hand, but knowing raising her on their music was the only way to keep her close in a far-off way to her father. Their CD was always on repeat in my car—it was the only thing Drea wanted to listen to when we were going somewhere; if I had it on anything else she'd scream “One D'ection!” until I flipped over to the album. She loved the upbeat songs; “Up All Night” and “What Makes You Beautiful” were her favorites because she could dance around to them. Whenever they played a clip from the music video on TV she'd scream in delight, “You bootiful! You bootiful!” I loved my girl's enthusiasm, but I had corrupted her to be a fangirl from such a young age. It was endearing though, her love for One Direction, when she had no idea what the truth was.

“Right,” I said, and Skylar finally looked at me sympathetically. I wished she was going with me, to give me much needed support; I would probably need her to speak for me, because knowing me and the knots in my stomach I would not be able to even get the words out. Without her, I probably wouldn't even make it to the autograph line, I'd drive all the way down there and turn back around before even stepping out of my car. I wanted the best for my daughter, and that trumped all, but if it weren't for that love I would never have the backbone. “Let's go meet One Direction.”