I Ran Home With My Baby to My Brother's Biker Friends, and the Three Who Tormented Me Said I Was Theirs to Guard novel · Chapter 10 of 24

Chapter 10: The Long Table

Zo's POV

Dinner at the long table was a siege, and I loved it.

Nik cooked.

He had told me he would, and on Wednesday he did, in the clubhouse kitchen in a red apron that said KISS THE COOK in letters half rubbed away.

He made pierogi from his grandmother's card, forty of them, pinched shut with his thick grease-stained fingers, boiled and fried in butter with onions.

The whole club ate at the long table under the lamp.

There were twelve patches I had never been introduced to.

They called me Zo, as if they had been told to, and they did not ask me one question about my lip.

A heavy man with a gray ponytail passed me the sour cream and said, "Zuri's a looker."

A boy of twenty with a neck tattoo asked if he could hold her.

I looked at Mason.

Mason nodded, almost invisibly, and I handed her over.

The boy held my daughter on his knee as if she were a bomb he'd been trained to defuse, and Zuri grabbed his earring and tried to eat it.

"Ow," he said, delighted.

"She's got an arm."

"Her father has an arm too," I said.

Nobody said anything.

It was the first time I had said it, at that table, on purpose.

Dutch lifted his head from his plate.

"Eat," he said.

"All of you.

"It's getting cold."

They ate.

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