[Leif's POV — One Week Later]
The sky was clear today. No snow. No blizzards. A perfect day to stroll around, slip on ice, and possibly break my spine in front of an audience. Maybe even build a snowman.
So, was I ready to walk out there and "enjoy nature"?
Absolutely. Undoubtedly. Without question.
NO.
Instead, I was lying on my bed like a pancake gone rogue—limbs spread, dignity gone, with one of my crimson babies snoozing happily on my stomach.
Then the door creaked open, and in marched Nick, ever the morning sunshine. "My lord, breakfast is ready."
I bolted upright, eyes wild. "Where's my beer?"
Nick, long-suffering as ever, placed a teapot on the table. "It's morning, my lord. And you cannot keep drinking beer every day."
I froze. Stared. Betrayal cut deep. "…You bring me tea? Do you want me to wither and die like some delicate houseplant?"
Unfazed, he poured a cup and pushed a plate toward me. Pancakes.
