Letitia's voice rang out, bright and chipper. "We just got started. Want to join us?"
Then she tugged at Corey's sleeve and pouted.
"Honestly, Corey, how could you not tell her? Now she has to eat all by herself, poor thing."
I heard exactly what she meant. My expression didn't change.
"No need. Noah spiked a fever and he's in the hospital. I need to get back."
Corey froze. His brow furrowed on instinct.
"A fever? How does a perfectly healthy kid get a fever? How are you taking care of him, Caroline?"
I tugged the corner of my mouth into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"I had work to handle—"
"Work?!" His voice shot up. "All you ever think about is work. You can't even take care of an eight-year-old, and you call yourself a mother?"
Something in what I'd said had set him off. He jabbed a finger in my direction, brimming with self-righteous fury.
"And another thing—you couldn't have called me sooner? Do you even consider me his father? I bet that's it. You look down on me. You've always looked down on me, the guy who's 'wasting his life' playing in a band!"
He was practically shaking with indignation.