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The ceiling fan twirled as I examined the wooden boards above my head. One of my sisters-in-law had missed a section as big as my thumb while they’d stained. I’d have to grab a can of the stain from Drew’s cabin to fix it. Though, if it didn’t blend well with the dried stain, the spot could bother me more than it already did.
My stomach grumbled, and I sighed. The clock read three-thirty in the morning. I’d eaten a decent amount of food at dinner. No, the meal hadn’t been Jazz’s cooking, and Chris and Sophie weren’t culinary artists, but the food had been edible. Far more so than if I’d been the one to cook. So why was my stomach complaining at me?
I stood and stretched. Joints popped and relaxed muscles extended. The air held a bit of a chill, so I pulled a t-shirt over my head and padded down to the first floor of my cabin. Drew had had the idea to build five cabins on his property. This way each of us could have our own private place to retreat to, and he and Jazz could have their place back. With their babies coming soon, he’d wanted the noise and crazy out as quickly as he could.
Three milk cartons sat in the fridge. I grabbed one. A half-dozen packages of cookies were stacked up in a cupboard. I selected the bottom one.
My glass of milk poured, I was just relaxing on a couch when my door opened and closed. Without turning, I called out, “Milk’s in the fridge.”
Drew settled next to me, glass in hand, and we dug into the cookies. When the package was half gone, no words had yet been spoken between us and the opposite wall had been examined quite thoroughly for any flaws.
“There’s a smudge on the left lower corner of the window.” Drew stared at the offending imperfection.
“How’s Jazz?”
“She had a few contractions tonight. Those pre-labor ones. At least that’s what she thinks they were.”
No more milk ran from the cup into my mouth. Who drank it all while I ate the cookies? My eyes narrowed at Drew.
“I didn’t drink it. You’re losing your mind.”
After settling the glass on the coffee table, I rubbed my face. “Don’t I know it.”
“I know why I’m not sleeping, but what’s your problem?”
“Why are you not sleeping?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“My mate is days or weeks away from delivering my children. It’s a little stressful. I mean, what do I know about being a father?”
I shrugged. “What does Jasmine know about being a mother?”
“At least she had one.”
True. “Okay, here’s the deal, Drew. When they’re newborns and little, you feed them, change their diapers, and let them sleep.”
“Sounds good. Then what?”
I gaped at him. “Does it look like I have a mate and ten kids hanging out in my backyard? I am not the wisdom fairy.”
“There is no such thing as a wisdom fairy, Jeff.”
“My point.”
“You’re being a jerk.”
“I’m tired.”
He groaned. “Then go to sleep.”
“Tried that. Stomach said, ‘Feed me.’ It must have known you were coming over.”
“Well then, I’ll leave.”
“Too late. I ate sugar.”
Stuffing another cookie in my mouth did nothing to stave off the energy-inducing sugar rush.
“Grab some milk,” Drew called out as the door opened again.
