There he was, the man who had occupied my thoughts everyday for the last seven years. A.J. McLean. He looked at me.
"Um…can I help you?" He didn't recognize me.
"Hi A.J." He looked at me more closely; then the smile disappeared from his face.
"MaKentreey?"
"Yes, it's me," His mouth dropped open.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Well…I guess I came to see our daughter,"
"You mean my daughter, and hell no you're not seeing her,"
"What?"
"You can't see her, she doesn't need you popping into her life like this,"
"A.J. what are you saying?"
"That you can't meet my daughter, she means too much to me to let you hurt her by just showing up right now,"
"No A.J.…is she here?"
"No, she's out shopping with Nick's sisters,"
"Well can't I just come in and see some pictures of her or something?"
"No,"
"Please A.J., I have only seen her once in her entire life,"
"That's your fault."
"I know" He looked at me. Then he said, "Okay, come in, I'll let you see some pictures of her,"
"Thanks," He stepped outside and let me into the house. It was big and beautiful inside and I loved it right away. I knew that someday he would be rich and famous.
"She looks exactly like a smaller younger version of you," A.J. said. I smiled.
"What did you name her?" I asked.
"Ajahieanna,"
"That's beautiful A.J."
"Thanks,"
"I can't believe you've managed to keep that fact that you have a child a secret from the press, critics, and fans all these years, I mean no one has a clue,"
"Except you," he said. I looked at the picture of the little girl on top of the fireplace. A.J. was right, she did look a whole lot like me. My very blue eyes, long jet-black hair with highlights, same smile, with a touch of her father in her, she was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.
"I meant what I said MaKentreey, I don't want you to meet her or anything, she's too young for that kind of stuff,"
"But A.J.-"
"Here are some of her old and recent pictures," He said handing me an envelope, she'll be home anytime so…"
"Has she ever asked about her mother… about me?" I asked hopefully.
"Yes"
"What did you tell her?"
"That you were dead," he said simply.
"You what?"
"What did you expect me to tell her, that her own mother didn't want her?"
"No, of course not,"
"You have to go now, she'll be home soon,"
"All right,"
"Don't try to get in contact with her, I mean it,"
