The father from the corner booth? He nodded once toward Connor. Subtle. Regret wrapped in respect.
The businessman? He picked up his phone… then put it back down.
Donna?
Donna couldn’t meet Connor’s eyes at first.
But she still brought over a fresh milkshake without being asked.
And when she set it down, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Connor looked at her for a long moment.
Seven years old.
And somehow already older than most people in that room.
“It’s okay,” he said.