The sound Lee made was somewhere between a laugh of utter disbelief and the kind of cough that's code for not knowing what the hell to say. And if he was going to be honest, then he was feeling plenty of both right at that moment. Lee shifted his weight to take a step forward, toward Anne, but himself needing to reach out a hand and steady his balance against some steel shelves.
It was completely unthinkable. That Lee and Joseph had spent plenty of times during the years butting heads was nothing surprising, considering how that friction seemed to just travel down the line: Joseph Adama to William, Bill to Lee, Lee on down to his son. But things with Anne had never been like that, at least not that he could ever remember.
"You didn't tell us, your mother and me," said Lee. When he realized he'd just made a statement and hadn't asked a question, he pushed for one. "Why didn't you?"