Updated Dec 2, 2025 • ~9 min read
Knox was finishing a painting when Julia showed up unannounced at his studio on Wednesday afternoon.
“Hey,” she said, slightly out of breath from climbing the stairs. “I know I should have called, but I was in the neighborhood and I have a pregnancy craving for pizza from that place on Third Street and I refuse to eat it alone.”
“You’re never in this neighborhood.”
“Fine. I specifically came here because I wanted to see you and also needed an excuse to get pizza at two in the afternoon.”
Knox set down his brush. “Pizza sounds perfect.”
They walked to the place Julia meant—a hole-in-the-wall that had been there forever and made the best New York slices Knox had ever tasted. Julia ordered three different types and didn’t apologize for it.
“Pregnancy is the only time I can eat like this without judgment,” she said, taking a massive bite of pepperoni.
“No judgment. Ever.”
They ate on a bench in the small park across from Knox’s studio. It was unseasonably warm for November, people enjoying what might be the last nice day before winter truly set in.
“Can I ask you something?” Julia said eventually.
“Anything.”
“What do you think about the name Emma?”
Knox blinked. “For the baby?”
“No, for my goldfish. Yes, for the baby.” Julia pulled out her phone, opening a notes app filled with names. “I’ve been making lists, but I can’t decide on anything. Cailyn says I’m overthinking it. My father says I should choose something traditional. And I just—I wanted your opinion.”
Knox looked at the list. Emma. Olivia. Sophie. Lucas. Henry. James. Normal, beautiful names for a baby who was half his.
“Emma’s nice,” he managed.
“But do you love it? Because I want a name I love. Not just ‘nice.'” Julia scrolled through her list. “What about Alexander? We could call him Alex.”
“If it’s a boy.”
“If it’s a boy,” Julia agreed. She rested her hand on her stomach. “What do you think, baby? Emma or Alex?”
The baby kicked, visible through Julia’s shirt.
“I think that was a vote for pizza,” Knox said.
Julia laughed. “Probably.” She sobered, looking at Knox with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “This is weird, right? Me asking you to help name a baby that isn’t biologically yours?”
It is mine, Knox wanted to scream. I have every right to name this baby. More right than you know.
“It’s not weird,” he said instead. “You’re including me in this. I’m honored.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want to presume that you’re going to be this involved. We’ve only been together a few months and I’m asking you to help make parental decisions.”
“Julia, I told you at the baby shower. I want to be involved. All of it.”
“Even the 3 AM feedings and diaper blowouts and complete loss of personal freedom?”
“Especially that.”
Julia’s eyes went suspiciously bright. “Damn hormones. You can’t say sweet things to me without making me cry.”
Knox pulled her close, careful of her stomach. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Julia wiped at her eyes. “Okay, so Emma or Alex. What feels right to you?”
Knox looked at Julia’s list again. At all these normal, beautiful names that could belong to his child.
“What about Charlotte?” he said, pointing to one near the bottom. “Charlie for short. Works for a girl or a boy.”
Julia’s face lit up. “I love that. Charlotte Adams. Charlie Adams.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “What do you think, baby? Charlie?”
Another kick.
“I think that’s a yes,” Knox said.
“Charlie it is then.” Julia added a star next to the name on her list. “See? This is why I needed you. I’ve been staring at these names for weeks and couldn’t decide. Five minutes with you and it’s sorted.”
She said it so easily, like Knox’s opinion actually mattered. Like he had a right to be part of these decisions.
And Knox felt the lie growing heavier by the second.
“Julia,” he started, “there’s something—”
His phone rang. Unknown number again.
Knox had been getting these calls all week. Hanging up immediately, blocking the numbers. But they kept coming from different lines.
“You should get that,” Julia said. “Might be the commission client.”
Knox answered, ready to tell whatever reporter to leave him alone.
“Mr. Barrow.” A man’s voice, unfamiliar. “My name is Tony Hicks. I’m a private investigator working for Brian Adams.”
Knox’s blood turned to ice. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“I think you do. I think you have quite a bit to say about Riverside Fertility Clinic and a certain donation you made four years ago.”
Knox hung up and immediately turned off his phone.
“Everything okay?” Julia asked, concerned.
“Yeah. Wrong number.”
“You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Just—headache coming on.”
Julia touched his forehead. “You do feel warm. Maybe you’re getting sick?”
“Maybe.”
“Come on. Let’s get you home. You need to rest.”
Knox let Julia walk him back to his apartment, his mind racing the entire time.
A private investigator. Calling him directly. Mentioning the clinic.
They knew. Or they were very close to knowing.
“Do you want me to stay?” Julia asked at his door. “Make you soup or something domestic and girlfriend-y?”
“No, I’ll be fine. You should rest too. Growing a human is exhausting work.”
“It really is.” Julia kissed him softly. “Feel better. Call me if you need anything?”
“I will.”
Knox watched her leave, then immediately turned his phone back on and called the number back.
Tony Hicks answered on the first ring. “Mr. Barrow. Glad you called back.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk. In person. There’s a coffee shop on Fifth and Main. Meet me there in an hour.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I take what I’ve found directly to my client. And Mr. Adams takes it to his daughter. Somehow I don’t think you want that.”
Knox closed his eyes. “One hour.”
“See you then.”
Knox sat in his apartment, staring at the wall, trying to figure out how his life had imploded so completely.
Then he called Aaron.
“They know,” Knox said when Aaron answered. “The investigator knows about the donation.”
“Shit. How much do they know?”
“I don’t know. He wants to meet. I’m going in an hour.”
“Don’t go alone. I’ll come with you.”
“Aaron—”
“I’m not letting you walk into this alone. Text me the address.”
An hour later, Knox and Aaron sat in a coffee shop, waiting. Tony Hicks arrived exactly on time—a man in his fifties, unremarkable except for the intensity in his eyes.
“Knox Barrow,” he said, sitting down without invitation. “And friend?”
“Aaron Arledge. Knox’s attorney.”
“I’m not actually an attorney,” Aaron said.
Knox shot him a look.
“Sorry. Seemed like the thing to say.”
Tony smiled, not pleasantly. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’ve been hired by Brian Adams to identify the biological father of his daughter’s baby. It took some time, but I found you.”
“How?” Knox asked.
“A combination of things. Timing, location, physical description matches. Your financial records showed a $5,000 deposit in September four years ago—exactly when Julia chose her donor. And then there’s the fact that you met Julia shortly after she became visibly pregnant and pursued a relationship with unusual intensity for someone who supposedly had no prior connection.”
“That’s all circumstantial.”
“It is. Which is why I haven’t told Mr. Adams yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Why?”
Tony leaned back. “Because this situation is complicated. You signed an anonymity agreement. Julia chose a donor specifically because she wanted to raise a child alone. And now you’re dating her, helping raise the baby, without disclosing your biological connection. That’s… problematic.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you? Because there are several ways this could go. One: I tell Mr. Adams what I’ve found. He tells Julia. You get cut out completely, possibly face legal action for breach of contract. Two: You tell Julia yourself. Right now. Before I report back. Maybe—maybe—she forgives you. Or three…”
“Three?” Knox prompted.
“You walk away. End the relationship. Disappear from Julia’s life before the baby is born. And I tell Mr. Adams the investigation was a dead end. I couldn’t find the donor.”
Knox stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’ve been doing this job for twenty years, and I’ve learned that sometimes the truth does more harm than good. Julia Adams is happy for the first time in years, according to everyone I’ve interviewed. Her pregnancy is healthy. She’s in love. Why destroy that?”
“Because it’s built on a lie,” Aaron said quietly.
“Most relationships are built on some kind of lie. This one’s just bigger than usual.”
Knox felt like he was underwater, drowning. “What do you want from me?”
“A decision. By tomorrow at noon. Either you tell Julia the truth, or you end things and walk away. Either way, this secret stops here.”
“And if I don’t choose?”
“Then I report everything to Brian Adams and let the chips fall where they may.” Tony stood. “You seem like a decent guy, Knox. You’re in a terrible situation. But Julia deserves to make an informed choice about her life. Give her that chance.”
Tony left his card on the table and walked out.
Knox and Aaron sat in silence.
“Well,” Aaron said eventually. “At least you have a deadline now.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.” Aaron’s expression was serious. “You have to tell her. Today. Tonight. Before that investigator changes his mind.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because you’ve been saying that for months and you still haven’t done it.”
Knox picked up the investigator’s card, turning it over in his hands. “What if she hates me?”
“She probably will. At first. But at least it’ll be honest hate, not based on more lies.”
Knox thought about Julia that afternoon, asking him about baby names, including him in decisions, trusting him completely.
He thought about Charlie—the name they’d chosen together.
He thought about losing all of it.
“I’ll tell her tonight,” Knox said. “After the dinner with her father.”
“Knox—”
“I need one more day. Just one. To figure out how to say it.”
Aaron looked at him sadly. “You’ve had three months to figure out how to say it. One more day won’t help.”
But Knox was already standing, already leaving, already running from the inevitable.
He had until tomorrow at noon.
One more day with Julia before everything fell apart.
One more day of pretending.
One more day before the truth destroyed them both.
He’d make it count.
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