If Brielle was right—and as far-fetched as it was, I had no evidence to the contrary to make me not believe her—I was right, and Petal was a daughter.
Tears welled up in my eyes at the realization, and I hastily swiped them away.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again? Does something hurt?”
Gael’s panic was palpable, an alpha male on high alert for hidden danger.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just processing, that’s all.” I sniffed hard, determined to get my wayward emotions under control.
That was harder to do with the pregnancy hormones, and I didn’t like not feeling like me. I was a levelheaded person, even if I tended to use sarcasm and humor as coping mechanisms at inappropriate times.
“Processing?”
The look of confusion as he blinked rapidly as if I’d just said something in ano
