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A heavy sigh escapes Dad as he glances at my mate. “No. I didn’t even get a chance to have my coffee this morning.”
“Damn!” Simon gasps. “Come with me, Sir. Let’s get some coffee and breakfast in that tummy.” Sidling up beside Dad, he wraps an arm around his shoulder.
“You can call me Philip, you know,” Dad says with a sudden grin.
“Well, Philip,” Simon says with a broad smile. “Let me treat you to my brother’s cooking today.”
I smother the chuckle that bubbles up from inside me. Both Oliver and Simon have successfully distracted him.
A smile curves my dad’s lips. “All right, then. Oh, wait!” He looks toward me and hands me my purse. “I brought this along for you. How can you be so reckless? Last time, you lost your phone and didn’t get in touch with me for three fucking months! Stop being so immature, Rory. Keep your phone with you at all times!”
His anger is back.
Instead of saying sorry, I hang my head and wait for him to explode. It’s the only way he’ll let it go.
Seth stands up and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“She’s sorry,” he says in a quiet, calm voice. “Please, Philip. Don’t give her a hard time over this. She thought she was being a good friend when she went out like that.”
“You must be starving,” Oliver says, trying to distract Dad again. “How about you rage at Rory after you’ve had something to eat?”
“You guys are spoiling her,” Dad mutters but allows Oliver to steer him toward the kitchen.
“Let’s go,” Seth whispers, gesturing for me and Simon to follow him.
“What happened to your leg?” Dad asks the moment he notices Seth’s limp.
“I stumbled over a flower pot by the door last night,” Seth says. “I guess I had a little too much to drink last night.”
“Is it a sprain?”
“Yep,” Seth smoothly lies. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“I made breakfast today,” Oliver announces proudly as he loads up a plate with his nearly burned scrambled eggs.
“Oh,” Dad stares down at the mountain of eggs on his plate. “Do you guys have any ketchup or sriracha in the house?”
“Dad, no,” I groan. “Don’t be weird around them.”
“We’ve got both,” says Oliver. “I’ll bring them over.”
Dad’s grin grows. He loves putting ketchup and sriracha on his eggs.
While Oliver goes to the fridge, Dad grabs a bread roll off a plate and devours it whole. For a moment, he closes his eyes in utter bliss as he chews the unbuttered roll.
“Thanks,” he mumbles with his mouth still full as Oliver puts the bottles of ketchup and sriracha on the table. Shoving another roll into his mouth, he generously drizzles his eggs with the sauces.
He’s been starving, I realize with a start.
Pity wells inside me as I watch my dad devour the scrambled eggs on his plate. My mates notice it too but they also stay politely silent about it.
“So, does it make the eggs taste extra good?” Simon asks with a curious look.
“You should try and see for yourself,” Dad replies, pushing the sriracha bottle toward him.
“Heh, why not?” Simon shrugs and grabs the sriracha and liberally drizzles his eggs with the hot sauce.
“Let me try too,” says Oliver.
