He had invented one specifically for me.

Christopher disappeared behind the counter and returned carrying coffee, a sandwich, and a bowl of water.

He placed the bowl near Benny.

“For your dog.”

Then he pushed the sandwich toward me.

“And this is on the house.”

“I didn’t order a sandwich.”

“I’d like to make things right.”

I looked at Steven.

Then back at Christopher.

“Would you be trying to make things right if he hadn’t walked through that door?”

Christopher’s jaw tightened.

Steven said nothing.

Finally, Christopher muttered, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“No,” I replied.

He frowned.

“You shouldn’t have thought that way in the first place.”

He exhaled sharply.

“I’m under pressure. People come in, order one drink, then stay for hours. Dogs take up room. I have rent, employees, inventory—everything costs money.”

“I understand money.”

He looked at me.