“Wow,” she murmured, her face nearly pressed flush against the window.

“I take it your last trip aboard a plane wasn’t to come here?”

She turned, scrunching her nose, as a small laugh escaped her lips. “No, definitely not.”

“Are you ever going to tell me where you went? I’m starting to believe it’s some sort of state secret you’re carrying around. Let me guess—New York to visit the boyfriend?”

Her attention had already drifted back to the window, but I could see her shoulders rise as she shrugged.

“No, I only visited Tyler a few times, and I drove. In fourth grade, my father broke his right ankle while bowling, and rather than make our usual twelve-hour drive to visit my grandmother in Texas, we flew there and back. At the time, it was the most exciting moment of my life. I couldn’t believe how fast we got there. I begged my parents to allow us to fly again the following year, but Dad’s ankle was better, and he could actually drive again, so there was no need.”

“How does one break their ankle while bowling?”

She snorted, her dark brown eyes meeting mine once more.

“I think there was a lot of beer involved. Plus, those shoes are slippery. Haven’t you ever noticed?”

“I’ve never played,” I admitted.

I watched her expression turn from playful to downright astonished.

“Never?”

“Nope.”

“Not even once?” she asked, her eyes still wide with disbelief.

“I believe that’s the definition of never.” I laughed.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, her head shaking back and forth in complete shock, as if I’d just told her I’d never used modern plumbing or had a haircut. “We’re going to rectify this. Before we leave,” she announced with conviction.

“If you say so, but it’s really not that weird.”

“It’s weird, Roman,” she retorted, instantly realizing her slip.

It was the first time she’d ever used my first name. Usually, she didn’t address me at all, which I’d always found unusual, considering her immaculate manners. But seeing her reaction now? The instant flush, dodging my gaze… it was obvious she was conflicted.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m Roman, Cara. To you… I’ve always just been Roman.”

Her breath caught for a moment, and time seemed to stand still. The sound of the tires against the pavement, the cars around us… everything stopped. For just one moment

And then it was gone.

“Sir, we’re here,” the driver announced as we came to a stop.

She looked at me for the briefest of time and then blinked, and it was as if the world reset itself. She gave me a polite smile, grabbed the formal tweed jacket she’d been carrying around with her all day, reached for the handle of the car, and was gone.