That meant Tyler’s parents did as well.

The entire situation needed to be handled gently and with tact. I was going to give Roman small-town lessons soon. Possibly as quickly as this evening.

I’d planned on mentioning it to him this morning, over breakfast, but he’d slipped out early, probably for a meeting out of the office that he’d forgotten to mention. So, I tabled it for later, knowing he was busy for the remainder of the day.

And so was I.

I was now working double duty, assisting Roman and looking for a new job.

I’d already sent out my résumé to several local historical societies and museums, but I hadn’t heard a thing, including from Kevin, Roman’s contact at the Transit Society. I was trying to keep my hopes up. I knew Rome hadn’t been built in a day, and all good things came to those who waited. But, really, I was sick of waiting!

Firing up the Internet browser, I began my daily search once more, looking at job listings on every website I could find, in hopes that something new would pop up.

Yesterday, I’d managed to find a position at the Museum of the City of New York.

It was for the janitorial staff.

I’d nearly applied—until the thought of cleaning restrooms scared me off. I was scared of my own.

The day before, I’d applied for a curator position at a small museum in Brooklyn. I’d rolled my eyes as I hit Submit, knowing full well that I was underqualified for the position, but a girl could dream.

“Are you screwing Roman Cavenaugh?”

My heart nearly stopped as I looked up to find Lauren standing above me, her eyes wide and crazy.

How did she always sneak up on me?

“What?” I played dumb.

“Come with me,” she said, reaching for my hand across the desk.

She didn’t care that it was awkward. She didn’t care that she’d knocked half a dozen things off my desk as she dragged me away.

As I looked back, I happened to catch one parting gift.

Roman.

Briefcase in hand, obviously coming back from his morning meeting. His eyes locked on mine and then on Lauren, and in them, I saw fear.

Empty, raw fear.

The last twenty-four hours felt like a blur.

As I sat on a plane, headed for home, I remembered sitting on a highway years earlier. Traffic wasn’t something we encountered much in our rural area, but when an accident occurred, it was bound to happen.

As my mom and I’d sat in the steamy car under the hot summer sun, waiting for traffic to be diverted, that tiny mind of mine had asked, “Why is everyone driving so slow? If the accident has been pulled off to the side and all the lanes are open… why is everyone slowing down?”