“We both wanted to be parents, and nothing else seemed to be working out,” he said.

I realized a response was required. “Wow. Um . . . congratulations.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He stood stiffly, the wind ruffling his hair, and looked to the left of me. On the other hand, I couldn’t stop staring at him. The unshaven face that never could grow a proper beard. His long lashes and slight scowl. His big hands, one on the baby’s back, the other on his hip. He should’ve looked ridiculous—brooding hot dad with baby in carrier meets ex-lover.

He didn’t look ridiculous at all.

I became aware of the fact that I should speak. And maybe close my mouth. “Mickey. How is she? That’s . . . this is a big surprise.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, an edge in his voice. “Should I have consulted you? Asked if it was okay?”

“No!” I scrambled to my feet. “I just . . . I mean, I knew you’d been engaged, but I, uh . . . I didn’t . . .”

“That didn’t work out. Also, I thought you were never coming back to this godforsaken town, as you called it, and now I have a four-month-old and all of a sudden, you’re living here again. If I’d known you were coming back, maybe I wouldn’t have impregnated a lesbian.”

“I’m here to take care of my father, Noah. Not have your babies.”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. Nothing else could’ve gotten you back here to this hellhole.”

I was quite sure I’d never called Stoningham a hellhole. “Still bitter, are we?”

“Yes.”

His hair, which had been short a couple of years ago (thank you, Facebook), had grown longer and wild again, and I was glad.

“Can I take a peek at your baby?” I said.

He scowled properly, then undid two clips and lifted out his son. I went over to them.

The baby was asleep, but I could tell he was Noah all over, tiny black eyebrows, the full cheeks, the perfect mouth. “Hey, little one,” I whispered, and touched his cheek. It was as soft and perfect as a puppy’s ear.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Noah said, repacking him. “Look. You’re here. I’m really sorry about your dad and I hope he gets better. But you left a mark, Sadie. We’re not gonna be friends. I can’t do that. I’m not your backup plan.”

Oh, the ego. “Was I humping your leg just now, Noah? Or begging you to marry me? Because I must’ve missed that part.”

“I’m just being clear. You’ll ruin me all over again, and I have a son to raise now. So if we run into each other, it’s not old home week. Okay?”