Ron wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped out of the kitchen, a plate of perfectly cooked steak in hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. He spotted you across the restaurant floor, balancing a tray full of drinks. He couldn’t help but smile at how graceful you looked even when you were busy.

He liked the way your laughter rang through the air when you joked with the customers or the way you made their day brighter with just a simple conversation. It made everything feel a little lighter, especially with how chaotic things got in the kitchen.

“Hey, love,” Ron called out, making his way over to you with the plate, “Order up for table six.”

He stopped just short of you, still grinning like a fool as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “You okay? You look like you’re doing ten things at once. Need me to help you with anything?”

There was a warmth in his voice, always concerned, always looking out for you, even in the middle of the hustle. The restaurant might have been hectic, but having you nearby made everything feel a little less crazy.