“I found out I was pregnant several weeks after I left you,” I said.

Stephen’s face lost its color.

“I was already pregnant when I walked away.”

His hand dropped from the chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because I had been angry.

Because I had been proud.

Because I had convinced myself he had betrayed me.

And because admitting I might have been wrong seemed impossible.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

My voice became quieter.

“I thought you would dismiss everything.”

I swallowed.

“But that doesn’t excuse it.”

I looked at Stephen.

“I should have given you the opportunity to decide for yourself.”

Emma was staring at me now.

“You knew he might be my father?”

“I knew the timing.”

“And you never told me?”

“I didn’t know whether he would want to be involved.”

Emma’s expression hardened.

“You decided that for both of us.”

There was no defense.