Chapter 11 - THE DINER THAT BECAME A DREAM
Two years after the night I accidentally insulted Dante Caruso, I opened my own restaurant.
It was small.
Twenty-four seats.
A bright kitchen.
A chalkboard menu.
And a sign above the door.
MURPHY'S TABLE.
I hired experienced cooks.
Young servers.
And people who needed a second chance.
We paid fair wages.
Shared tips transparently.
And treated every employee like a human being.
On opening night, I stood behind the counter with tears in my eyes.
Marcus, my old coworker, had joined us as head chef.
Rebecca Sloan handled our legal paperwork.
Elena designed the interior.
And Dante stood near the entrance wearing a dark suit and an expression of ridiculous pride.
I approached him.
“Well?”
He looked around.
“It's beautiful.”
I smiled.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Really.”
I laughed.
“Even without espresso?”
He looked offended.
“Murphy.”
I grinned.
“We have espresso.”
His expression softened.
“Then you've learned something.”
I laughed.
“So have you.”
May you like
He kissed my forehead.
And for the first time, I felt like I had built something that belonged entirely to me.
