Olivia
"Can we get two plates of fried shrimp!" a customer's voice echoed through the room.
"Yes! They'll be with you shortly!" I responded loudly from behind the counter, then turned to Logan, who was busy in the kitchen.
"You really shouldn't be shouting like that; it's not good for the baby," Logan chided as he skillfully prepared the shrimp.
"Well, I have to if we want to make enough money for Grandma," I retorted, earning a chuckle from Logan.
"You're something else. What does shouting have to do with making money?"
If only he knew.
"Do you have any idea how much we've made so far? You underestimate the magic of your cooking skills. Keep going," I urged, taking the two plates and heading out to serve the customers. There were still more orders to take.
When Logan and I decided
