Jean and Hannah found an empty metal table with plastic stools so worn the paint was chipped off years ago. Traffic buzzed on the other side of the low fence. Neon lights flickered, half alive.
"So…" Jean began, looking around. "Why here, Hannah? You know I wouldn't mind going somewhere… cleaner." She hesitated on the last word.
Hannah wiped sauce from her lip, face turning thoughtful. "Because… These places remind me of when things were simple."
Jean tilted her head, curious.
"Before Logan built his company," Hannah explained softly, eyes turning distant. "Before the brand deals, the paparazzi… Dad wasn't as busy. Mom still had time to scold Logan for coming home late. And Logan… he was just my brother. The one who sneaked me here for cheap beer and skewers when I was sad about school."
Jean's chest tightened, her beer can suddenly heavier in her hand.
"We didn't have much then," Hannah added. "But it felt like we had enough."
