Chapter 40

KNOX

“Arewe crazy for doing things this way?”

The question catches me out of nowhere.

It’s also a very loaded question.

“There are a lot of aspects to our relationship that fit that question, Willow,” I say.

“So we have a relationship?”

“Of course we do.”

“Not just the pregnancy, Knox. Beyond that.”

I’m not sure how to talk about this…

“I get it,” she says.

Willow starts to play with her hands. I take note, knowing when she does that she’s both nervous and uncomfortable.

There are a lot of pieces to the puzzle that make up Willow that are still floating around, but what I’m grabbing and putting together is making more and more sense by the day now.

I reach for her hands.

“Everything I said to your father I meant,” I say. “It takes a lot for me to get that nervous. But your father…”

“In reality though he’s a big teddy bear, Knox. Protective of me? He’s never had to worry. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I just always did my thing. Now what I did? That added years to my father’s life.”

“I’m sure he’s sitting at his desk, shocked.”

“I’m sure.”

“I did mean it though, Willow. And your father’s response - about your feelings - proves to me the kind of man and father he is. He just set the bar high for me to be the same.”

Willow swallows hard.

I can’t believe the words that are pouring from my mouth.

“I don’t want any pressure on you, Knox,” Willow says. “I don’t want things to be fake… you know?”

“Nothing is fake.”

“Spending a lot of time together… it can leave you feeling with no choice. I’m pregnant, Knox. I can’t picture myself doing anything with anyone. You know what I mean by that? You can go out and sleep with fifty girls and it won’t matter. Me? It’s like I’m…”

“No,” I say. “I hate that.”

“It’s the truth, Knox.”

The car comes to a stop.

Replacing that rugged, hardworking with your hands vibe of Willow’s father’s construction business is the dark gray, sleek, one-story building of my father’s side law office.

Yes. Side office.

The main office is in the city itself on the fifteenth floor of a large building.

That office he uses to swoon clients.

This office is when he plays the card of just being a regular guy like the rest of us.

“It’s my turn to be nervous,” Willow says. “Or I should say - even more nervous.”

“My father…”

I don’t even finish.

I get out of the car and remember the words from Beverly.

I make damn sure to open the door for Willow. I offer my hand. I help her out.

We walk to the door.

It’s locked.

I punch in a code my father gave just to me.

The lock makes a metal popping sound and now the door opens.

“Anybody home?” I call out.

The office is wide, clean, and very professional.

The chairs are leather with the little gold rivets along the arms and legs.

It smells like clean leather and fresh carpeting, with a touch of expensive cologne.

The walls are bare.

There’s a door for the bathroom.

Another door for the back offices.

Then the main double doors with my father’s name in gold.

Those doors open and my father steps out.

He’s my height. A bit skinnier. Always a serious look on his face.

He does not have the charm of a lawyer who makes their money defending people.

My father is a prosecutor.

Yes. He’s the guy actively working on putting Gabriel’s father in prison for a long time.

Today he’s not wearing a tie.

A couple buttons are undone too.

This is as casual as I’ve ever seen him.

“My son, Knox,” he says. “With someone else.”

“This is Willow,” I say. “She murdered someone and I need your help.”

“What?” Willow cries out, her face turning bright red.

“Hilarious joke, Son,” my father says.

Willow elbows me.

I cringe.

I’m trying to cut the tension but I remember that my father thrives in tension.

It’s how he works.

“Can we talk?” I ask him.

“Of course we can,” he says. “Need anything? Coffee? Soda? Water? Want to order something to eat?”

I can practically hear Willow’s stomach growl at the mention of food.

That makes me feel a certain way.

The idea that her body and the baby… and all that’s happening…

“Can we sit down?” I ask.

My father now seems surprised. “Ut-oh.”

“No,” I say. “Don’t start assuming things.”

“You bring a beautiful young lady here for me to meet,” my father says. “And now you want me to sit down.” He smiles and steps forward. “By the way, my name is Jonathan. It’s nice to meet you, Willow. That’s a very pretty name.”

They gently shake hands.

“Just to get this out of the way, this conversation cannot pertain to any present legal cases I’m involved in…”

“This has nothing to do with Gabriel,” I say.

“Right,” my father says. “Well, let’s have a seat and chat.”

My father is a smart man. A genius.

He always told me playing goalie was the smartest position in hockey.

Athletics run in the family too.

My father actually had the opportunity to get drafted into professional baseball.

He went to law school instead.

Of course none of this matters.

I’m just stalling in my head, avoiding telling him that-

“I’m pregnant,” Willow says.

Oh, okay. You’re just… going for it…

My father looks at me.

I nod. “That’s what we wanted to tell you.”

“We,” my father says.

“We,” I say. “She’s pregnant. With my baby.”

My father takes a deep breath. He presses his hands together and touches his lips.

He’s thinking.

Deep thinking.

Willow reaches for my hand.

I grab her hand and hold tight.

Buckle up, baby…

“Pregnant,” my father says. “So you two are together.”

“You don’t need to be together to have a baby,” Willow says.

“Forgive the language but you two are, what, friends with benefits?”

“Dad,” I say.

“I’m just trying to keep up. It’s quite the announcement.”

The conversation is flat. Silent.

This is what it’s like talking to my father.

Whatever part of his brain is supposed to have some sense of a personality and all that, it was never made.

He’s always serious. Always thinking. Always preparing for something.

“Are you… upset?” Willow asks.

“What’s the use of being upset, my dear? Emotion will only make things worse. Best bet is to face reality with a clear-cut plan.”

Willow nods. She blushes.

“Which is why we’re telling you in person,” I say to my father. “And I assure you we are working on that plan.”

“Working onthat plan,” he says. “You know, I’ll be the one who says it. I believe in covering all bases. Are we sure this baby is yours, Knox?”

Willow gasps.

I cringe.

My father means nothing bad by it.

Even though he just implied that Willow is the kind of person who sleeps around.

Then again, there’s nothing wrong with that.

Anyone can do what they want.

So he does have a point…

“I can take any tests you’d like,” Willow says.

“And this isn’t some kind of… game? A ploy? A tactic?”

“What does that mean?” Willow asks.

I squeeze her hand a little harder. “Dad, we’re just two people, okay? We hooked up. This happened. You’re going to be a grandfather. Nobody is on trial here. Willow did not plan the pregnancy to squeeze you or me for money.”

“That’s what you think?” Willow asks.

She jumps up and backs away.

I stand up and pull her closer to me.

“I mean no offense but I have to look at all angles of this,” my father says. “Am I happy for you? Of course I am. If you two are happy with this. Everything in life gets a little bit trickier now.”

“Nothing changes,” I say. “I’m playing out the season. I’ll play pro. It’ll be fine.”

“And you, my dear? What are your plans?”

Willow is extra nervous now.

She doesn’t have a major. She doesn’t have a plan.

She’s the opposite of everything my father stands for.

“Willow has tons of options,” I say. “Her father owns a construction company and she’s worked there for years. She’s also a tutor. Willow is the smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Well, her judgement in guys is suspect,” my father says.

It’s the longest two seconds of my life before he smiles.

Then he stands up and moves toward us.

He offers a smile to Willow. “Sorry about everything I just said. There’s no off switch when it comes to me. But I am capable of showing emotion.”

“It’s a weird and shocking conversation to have,” Willow says.

My father looks at me. “Son.”

“Grandpa…” I reply.

That makes my father laugh.

Which is a relief.

It takes a lot for him to laugh.

We may not have broken the ice with him but we sure as hell put a nice dent in it.

That in itself is a small victory.