Peter turned off his phone and set it aside. “Let’s stay as long as you want.”
Eleanor’s face lit up. “Do you think they still have that chocolate torte your father and I used to share?”
Peter grinned. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The next two hours passed in warmth and laughter as they shared stories, savoring their food. Peter saw his mother in a new light—not just as an elderly woman in a wheelchair, but as the woman who once held him in her arms, the woman who had given him a lifetime of love and sacrifice.
As they left the restaurant, Peter wheeled Eleanor to the car under the soft glow of the streetlights. Before getting in, he paused and turned back toward La Rosa.
Antonio stood by the door, arms crossed, smiling.
Peter raised his hand in silent gratitude, and Antonio nodded in return.
