Dad has been rearranging the five plates on the dining table for ten minutes, and seeing as he’s a man who runs an MC and is known fearsome and ferocious, it’s oddly sweet to see him so – well. Sweet. Nervous.
“The plates were straight,” I tell him.
“They weren’t,” he protests.
“They really were, Dad.”
“But they’re better now, right?”
Mayhem leans against the kitchen counter, drinking a beer and watching with open amusement. “He’s moved my tea cup three times.”
Dad glares at him. “Because you keep touching it.”
“I’m checking whether it still works.”
“It’s a f*****g tea cup.”
“Exactly. Very complicated machinery.”
Jade walks in carrying two enormous paper bags. “Someone help me before dinner ends up on the floor.”
I hurry over and take one from her. The bottom is warm against my
