The Lamplighter had settled into a steady rhythm for the evening. The dinner rush had passed, leaving behind the quiet hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of glasses, and the warm glow of low-hanging lights.
Caspian wiped down the bar, watching Laura out of the corner of his eye as she moved through the space, speaking with guests, checking in with the staff. Tonight, something was different.
She wasn’t tense, wasn’t carrying the weight of the restaurant like a burden pressing into her shoulders. She looked lighter. And for the first time, he saw her laugh. Not a small smirk, not a polite chuckle—a real laugh.
It happened at one of the corner tables, where Mariah had apparently told her something amusing. Laura tossed her head back slightly, a hand resting against her hip, he
