Nora's POV
I stifle another yawn and reach toward my coffee mug, only to remember the ceramic sits bone dry. My vision blurs as I blink hard, trying to shake off the exhaustion weighing down my eyelids. Standing up behind the counter, I pace in short circles, desperately trying to keep myself upright and alert. Vivien should have been here hours ago to open, with Ophelia scheduled to arrive later. I haven't bothered updating Ophelia about last night's chaos, unwilling to drag her from sleep and pile worry on top of her dreams. At least one of us deserved proper rest.
Dropping back onto the stool, my thoughts drift inevitably to James. He haunted what little sleep I managed in those brief precious hours before dawn. In those fleeting dreams, he delivered on every whispered promise about making the wait worthwhile.
Several times over, in fact.
