“Not a fan of the fresh juice?” I asked.
“The texture is weird, but it’s tasty.”
I shrugged, enjoying it. Though, anything I could keep down at this point was my new BFF. The chef had called this a carrot-apple colada, but assured me it contained only fresh fruit and vegetables appropriate for gestating she-wolves.
It was so great when people talked about the contents of your uterus. So great.
But the man made a mean juice, so I forgave him.
Brielle cleared her throat. “So, I have to ask you something, and I hope you won’t be offended.”
My eyes shot from the juice to hers, and I knew from her expression that I’d missed the boat. Shame clogged my throat.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, setting the glass on the side table so I could clench my hands together unimpeded.
She rested her hand on
