The Lamplighter had emptied out, leaving only the soft hum of the dishwasher and the occasional clink of glass as Laura moved behind the bar.
Caspian had lingered longer than necessary. He told himself it was just routine—checking the floor, ensuring everything was in order before he left. But that was a lie. He was waiting. For the right moment. For the courage to say something that felt far more personal than it should.
Laura stood near the bar, rolling her shoulders as she wiped down the counter. She looked exhausted, but there was something softer about her now—the sharp efficiency of her work fading into the quiet of the closed restaurant.
Caspian cleared his throat, stepping forward.
“You ever take a break?”
Laura huffed a small laugh, not looking up. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
