But my mind wasn’t fully on the food.
It was on Ryan.
He had tried to hijack a night meant for someone else. Worse—he had done it believing I wouldn’t fight back. Like I would just nod and walk away. The entitlement wasn’t new, but this was the clearest line he had ever crossed.
James waited until dessert to lean in.
“Do you want me to ask them to leave?” he asked quietly.
I looked through the glass toward the main dining area. Ryan and his parents were still at the same table, eating silently. Avoiding eye contact. The mood clearly soured.
“No,” I said. “Let them pay for their meal.”
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