“We offered him a job.”

My breath caught.

“He starts Saturday. Three hours.”

“Three?”

“That’s what he asked for.”

Not what Chloe chose. Not what Marcy thought was best. Not what I would have decided.

What Leo asked for.

Marcy folded her arms and smiled.

“We need someone who notices when things aren’t where they belong, remembers the regular customers’ orders, and actually cares whether the ketchup bottles are sticky.”

I laughed through my tears.

“We’re not hiring him because we feel sorry for him,” she added seriously. “We’re hiring him because he’s useful.”

That word hit me harder than anything else.

Useful.

Not protected. Not managed. Not treated like a responsibility.

Needed.

PART 3

A few minutes later, Leo returned to our booth wearing the black apron and carrying a small order pad. Richard smiled proudly at him.

“Looking sharp.”

“I know, Papa.”

I laughed. Leo looked at me with complete seriousness.