A man is accused of fathering a baby left on his doorstep — an accusation that costs him his marriage and the life he knew.
Kyle Greenbecker had just completed a year-long job working on an oil pipeline in Alaska, and he was finally heading home to his wife, Lisa. They had met in high school, and Kyle had never once regretted marrying her at nineteen.
Perhaps it was a bit old-fashioned, but Kyle took pride in the fact that Lisa was the only woman he had ever been intimate with. He neither needed nor wanted anyone else. The idea that Lisa might doubt him had never crossed his mind — and with good reason.
When his plane landed, Kyle collected his bags and walked with the other passengers toward the arrivals area, scanning the crowd for Lisa’s familiar face. She wasn’t there.
She must have gotten caught up at work with an emergency, Kyle thought. He sent her a quick text to let her know he was on his way home, but there was no reply. So, he booked an Uber and an hour later was stepping up to his front door.
The living room lights were on, but Lisa wasn’t there. Kyle headed toward the kitchen — and stopped dead in the doorway. Sitting on the kitchen table was a bassinet, and from inside, a tiny arm waved aimlessly.
He stepped closer and realized there was a baby inside. The little one stared at him with wide, astonished eyes, and Kyle found himself staring back in equal shock.
On the table beside the bassinet was a folded piece of paper. Kyle picked it up. Inside was another sheet, scrawled in handwriting he didn’t recognize:
“You had your fun, now take responsibility for your child.”
Beneath it was a note in Lisa’s elegant handwriting:
Kyle, yesterday I found this baby on our doorstep with that note attached. I always suspected you cheated on me during your business trips, but I never held it against you — after all, I had plenty of flings myself while you were gone — but expecting me to raise another woman’s child is too much. I’ve filed for divorce, and I sincerely hope I never see you again.
P.S. Don’t worry about the baby. I only left after seeing you walk up the driveway. Enjoy your life, Kyle — I certainly intend to enjoy mine.
Kyle sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. This couldn’t be happening. The baby wasn’t his. He had never once been unfaithful to Lisa. A soft coo broke through his thoughts.
The infant waved her tiny fist in the air. Kyle reached out, and to his surprise, she wrapped her fingers tightly around his index finger.
“Well, kid,” Kyle murmured, “looks like it’s just you and me. And I have no idea what to do with you.”
The baby gurgled, then scrunched her face up and turned beet red. Moments later, the smell made the problem clear.
It was diaper time.
On the floor near the table sat a large backpack filled with pockets. Inside, Kyle found a confusing assortment of baby supplies — including diapers. He pulled out his phone, googled how to change a diaper, and watched a YouTube tutorial featuring a calm woman demonstrating on a motionless baby doll.
Reality, of course, was much messier. The doll didn’t kick its legs or stick its feet into the contents of a dirty diaper. After finally getting the little one cleaned up, Kyle realized she was a girl — and he knew nothing about raising girls.
“I won’t be giving you dating advice,” he told her seriously. “But I can teach you how to ride a bike.”
Right then, Kyle decided he would keep her.
Lifting her into his arms, he said, “You need me, and I think I need you too. So, how about it, kid?”
He turned back to YouTube for guidance on mixing formula, then settled the baby in the crook of his arm for her feeding.
“You need a name,” he said. “What about… Celeste? No? How about Lily?”
If anyone had told Kyle he’d fall into fatherhood so naturally, he wouldn’t have believed them. Lily had her tantrums, sure, but they made it work. He registered her as his child and enrolled her in daycare. For him, her birthday was the day he found her.
Two years later, on Lily’s second birthday, Kyle’s world was shaken again.
A tall, thin blonde woman with surgically enhanced curves knocked on his door.
“I’ve come for my baby,” she announced.
“Your what?” Kyle asked, stunned.
“My baby,” she repeated sharply. “I left her here two years ago. I was a little high at the time, and my boyfriend lives down the block. I got mixed up. You know how it is.”
“No,” Kyle said coldly. “I don’t. I’ve never abandoned a child on anyone’s doorstep. Now I suggest you leave before I call the police.”
She bristled. “I realized I made a mistake about a week later when Burt stopped taking my calls. But now I need that baby.”
“You need her?” Kyle demanded. “Why?”
“Because Burt just signed a Major League contract,” she said smugly. “And that kid is going to guarantee some of those millions end up in my bank account.”
Kyle threw her out, but he knew it wasn’t over. He was right. A week later, he was summoned to family court. The woman — Cherish Vegas — was challenging his adoption of Lily.
Suddenly, Kyle was being served with legal papers, subjected to unannounced visits from Social Services, and watched as friends and co-workers were questioned. Cherish clearly wanted Lily for the money.
The day of the hearing arrived. Kyle handed Lily to a social worker and walked into the courtroom. Cherish sat beside a tall man with Lily’s blue eyes — this had to be Burt.
Cherish wept as she told the judge how much she loved and missed her baby, claiming her wild college days were behind her and that she’d only left Lily in Kyle’s “care” temporarily.
“By ‘care,’ you mean on his porch, correct, Miss Vegas?” the judge asked.
Cherish flushed. “Well, I’m still her mother! No one can take that from me!”
The judge turned to Burt. “Sir, you are the father?”
“I guess I must be,” Burt replied.
“Are you prepared to take full parental responsibility for this child?” the judge asked.
“You bet he is,” Cherish cut in. “He just signed a three-million-dollar contract!”
The judge’s eyes narrowed. “Ah. Now we get to the truth. Tell me, Miss Vegas — what name did you give your daughter?”
“Name?” Cherish faltered. “She’ll have her daddy’s name, of course, since he’ll be paying child support.”
Kyle stood. “Your honor, my daughter’s name is Lily, and she already has her father’s name — mine. From the moment she entered my life, I’ve loved her. And she loves me.”
At that moment, Lily looked up from playing with the social worker’s necklace and spotted Kyle. “Daddy!” she squealed, reaching her arms toward him.
“Well,” the judge said with a smile, “it seems the most important voice here has spoken. I hereby deny all claims of custody from Miss Vegas and confirm Kyle Greenbecker’s adoption and custody of Lily Greenbecker.”
That evening, Kyle celebrated the victory with Lily. In the garden, they caught lightning bugs together.
“Stars!” Lily exclaimed.
But to Kyle, the brightest star in the world was his little girl.