Naomi’s POV
I couldn’t sleep.
No matter how I shifted—left side, right side, even tried folding a pillow between my knees—I just couldn’t find the sweet spot. The baby kept stretching and rolling, and my body felt like a borrowed blanket—warm, wrinkled, and impossible to smooth.
I let out a sigh and flipped over again.
Raymond stirred beside me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“I don’t know,” I groaned. “I’m tired, but I want… a sandwich.”
He blinked, or maybe just squinted. “A sandwich? At 2 a.m.?”
I gave him a look. “Yes.”
He rubbed his eyes, then smirked. “Before we even start arguing, just know you’ve got the baby face on.”
I didn’t say anything—just gave him that quiet pout that always wins.
He sighed dramatically, tossed the blanket back, and sat up. “
