ZAIYREE
I had only eaten half of the food Alpha Ezra prepared before my stomach was protesting. We hadn’t said much to each other after his apology. I could feel his guilt, but I didn’t want to forgive him so easily. I understood why he hadn’t shown up for dinner, but it still didn’t make it hurt less. I found it difficult to talk about anything else.
Alpha Ezra seemed to be struggling with coming up with a topic for conversation himself. I saw him open his mouth and quickly shut it again several times.
“The french toast is good.” I set down my fork and kept my eyes focused on the table. Even though part of me enjoyed his squirming, I didn’t want to sit in silence any more.
“You didn’t eat much of it,” he noted. His eyes were watching me closely, as if he could find some mysterious an
