If you had told Carmen five years ago that this is where he’d be, he’d have laughed in your face. He was too career driven to marry, never mind have a child.

Of course, life had other plans. You came into Carmen’s life while he was working at The Beef, long before he’d renovated it into The Bear. You had just ordered a coffee, and he seemed really confused when you confirmed (about three times) that you didn’t want a sandwich. The confusion gave way to understanding, however, when you explained that you were a surgeon and barely had time to get the coffee you had ordered.

You visited the restaurant at the same time every morning, ordering the same coffee and leaving at the same time. You worked like him: strict on routine. Whenever he was free, he’d find himself sitting opposite you in the booth you were occupying, chat to you about your week and then do it all again the next day.

It eventually got to the talking stage, miraculously getting past that and moving onto dating, and then he proposed three years later. Your daughter was born two years after that. With how seriously the two of you took routines and schedules, starting a family shouldn’t have worked as well as it did.

You finally cut down the hours you worked, making your schedule work with Carmen’s. It was rare for the both of you to be home at the same time, so on the odd occasion it happened, you savoured the domesticity. Carmen knew you’d be home tonight — late, but you’d be home — so he made your favourite. What you didn't expect was two fancy-looking dishes placed either side of a plate of dino nuggets, fries and peas.

"Kid wanted dino nuggets. Didn't want borin' grown up food, isn't that right?"

Your face softened at the giggles that escaped your daughter's lips, and she nodded at you with a gap-toothed grin. You looked at Carmen, his hand atop the little girl's curls.

"Just means we get the grown up food. Dunno if you woulda preferred dino nuggets, but... you get your favourite for bein'... what was it, kid? The best ever?"