"I want this place to have a different feel. You know, a place where people want to be on any night of the week, not just weekends. Where they can experience a taste of Spain right here in Eden."

"Spain?"

I can see the flicker of excitement in his eyes, like he's already there in his mind.

"I spent a lot of time in the South of Spain when I was younger. It's a place where people stayed for hours, eating, drinking, and talking. I want to bring that vibe here. Only local produce, local wines, and we showcase local talent. Make it feel like this place belongs to the town."

"How'd you end up in Spain?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

His expression shifts, becoming more contemplative. "Life at home wasn't easy growing up. So I did what any teenager would do and I ran. Only California didn't feel far enough so I ran to another country where I didn't know anyone and couldn't speak the language." He laughs, but there's an edge to it that I recognize—the kind of laugh that covers old wounds.

"I was a pretty messed up teenager and if it wasn't for my uncle giving me a way to get out, I don't know where I would have ended up."

I can sense the gratitude in his voice and the love he has for Alfie.

"It was a special place. I felt like I found some part of myself that I'd lost there. As time went on, I set myself up, got myself straight, learned more about the culture, cuisine and wines. Eventually I bought a house there and started a little business. But then Uncle Alfie got sick a few years back. He's the only family I have so instead of flying back and forth like I was, I packed up my life in Spain and here we are."

"Opening a bar," I add.

"Restaurant bar actually," he corrects with a hint of pride.

Nick continues, painting a picture of open mic nights, live bands—making this the spot everyone in town wants to play at. He's a dreamer, but he's done this before. I can tell by the way he talks, confident and decisive. I admire that about him.

"So why 'Sonder'?" I ask.

Nick's face lights up as he leans back against the counter. "When I traveled, I loved to sit in the window of cafés and watch people. Just living their lives, completely unaware of me watching. Everyone's got their own story, their own journey. And every now and then, I'd see the same person walk by, and we'd just nod, like we shared something without even speaking. Those little moments, they're meaningful even if we don't understand the full extent of them."

I let that sink in for a moment.

"That's some stoic shit," I mutter, earning a laugh from him.