The Reyes brothers were gone when I woke up the next morning.
A single post-it note was stuck to the coffee maker, the words scribbled on in Angel's messy print:
Staying at the clubhouse, giving you space.
I couldn't find it in me to be upset—I didn't want to see the pair anyway.
A nagging thought kept distracting me as I deposited the bacon strips onto the pan—Did EZ know about Adelita's pregnancy all along? What about the rest of the club?
I was certain Bishop didn't know. Angel would not have been able to carry this on for so long if he had.
After two days of solitary confinement with just Jackie for company, I dropped the toddler off at Letty's and unwillingly drove to the clubhouse. The only reason I was going was because I promised the club Sunday waffles—homemade, of course.
Parking my Tesla in the yard, I was relieved to see Angel's Harley was gone. One less thing for me to worry about.
I walked inside the clubhouse, the boxed waffle maker tucked under my arm. All conversations came to a standstill as the men noted my arrival, exchanging cryptic looks.
Bishop got up from the table and walked over to me. Judging by the look on his face, he knew I found about about Angel and Adelita.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his intense gaze scanning my face.
"I don't know, to be honest." I answered. Fumbling with the box, I held it up to the group. "I came to make waffles, as promised."
"You didn't have to come. We didn't expect you to, anyway."
I simply nodded, retreating behind the bar and disappearing into the kitchen. As I worked on preparing the waffle mix in a large bowl, I could hear quite conversation resume in the other room. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I opted to humming show tunes as I worked.
Bishop stepped into the kitchen several minutes later, his forehead lined more severely than usual. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, watching as I put another waffle on top of the growing stack.
"Sorry I haven't called. We've been trying to give you-"
"Space, I know." I cut in, pouring more waffle mix onto the hot surface of the mold. "You're not the only ones."
"I still should've checked in." he insisted.
"You don't have to look after me, Bishop."
When the waffles were ready I picked them up and carried them out of the kitchen. Bishop had brought out a stack of plates, along with a can of whipped cream and a bottle of maple syrup.
The men came up to the counter, each grabbing a plate and claiming several waffles. They didn't shy away from the sweet add-ons and by the time they all settled down with their food, the bottle of syrup was half-empty.
I sat down behind the counter. Resting my elbows on the smooth surface of the countertop, I watched as the guys wolfed down their waffles.
The screen door of the clubhouse was pushed open, revealing Angel. As his eyes found me he stopped in the doorway, as if debating whether or not he should walk in. He stepped through the threshold and let the door fall shut behind him.
His brothers's eyes traveled from their waffles to Angel, then to me, and back to their waffles. They remained quiet as their Secretary walked over to the counter and stood in front of me.
"Theo, we gotta talk..." he said quietly.
"'We' don't have to do anything." I said curtly. Turning away to open the fridge, I snatched a beer off of a low shelf. Chucky had developed a habit of stocking the fridge with Corona Extra for my benefit.
I straightened out and picked up a bottle opener, cracking open my beer. Setting down the aid, I turned back to face the counter.
Angel was watching me, rooted to the spot.
"Where's Jackie?" he asked.
"She's not your concern right now. Shouldn't you be worried about your own kid?"
I knew it was a low blow, and the pain that flickered in his eyes made me regret even opening my mouth.
"Will we be able to get past this?" he asked with a heavy sigh.
"I don't know, Angel. I can't really think about that right now."
Angel accepted my response, walking out of the clubhouse soon after. I watched him leave with a frown.
"You okay?" asked Bishop, stepping up to the counter.
I nodded, looking at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Did you enjoy the waffles?"
"Fucking delicious." cut in Coco, stuffing his face. Bishop and I chuckled, rolling our eyes in unison.
"Have you been in touch with Chibs recently?" asked the President, placing his empty plate on the counter.
"Yeah. He said SAMCRO's coming down for a sit-down." I said uncertainly, not knowing if what Chibs had told me was privileged information. Judging by Bishop's slight smile, it wasn't.
"You can drive up with us if you want, catch up with the Scot."
"Wait, really?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but you'd have to leave right after. Can't have you there when the third party shows up."
"Yeah, of course." I agreed, curious as to who the third party was. Can't be Dogwood, SAMCRO wouldn't be coming all this way to sit down with a local crew. Galindo is the only player big enough, but then why all the secrecy?