“What the hell, Soleil? What the hell? You didn’t tell me? You were just going to go on your merry way without letting the other parent in the situation know this key piece of information? It didn’t freaking occur to you that the father might like to know he’s the father?”

“I-I-”

“You thought maybe you could slip this one by me?”

His voice was too loud now, nearly a shout, and Soleil was painfully aware of all the adolescent ears nearby that could be hearing the argument.

“Could you please lower your voice? The kids-”

“Oh, what, now you’re worried about being a good role model?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You don’t need your baby daddy? Is that it? Is that what you tell the kids here?”

She winced at his bad imitation of a street accent. Any other time, she’d have given him an earful for that kind of comment, but now she didn’t have any room to talk-not literally or figuratively.

“West-” she said as calmly as she could, but he was closing the distance between them now, and panic rose in her chest.

“It’s crap!” he said, in her face now, close enough that she could inhale his woodsy scent. “You don’t do this to people. This is utter crap!”

She didn’t have any right to lose her temper now. It was his turn, and she had to take whatever he doled out. She owed him that. So she bit her tongue.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology seemed to take the wind out of his sails. His shoulders slumped, and he retreated a step.

Shaking his head, he said, “How could you? How could you do this? How could you keep this from me?”

“I wanted to tell you in person. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

“You wanted to tell me in person,” he repeated numbly. “All this time, you didn’t even call me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”