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Of course she did. I smile despite myself.

“She asked me if you’d found your ‘future husband’ yet.” Gracie laughs. “Her words, not mine.”

“She's committed to the cause.”

“She really is.”

I pat Walter again, then set him down. He ambles toward his bed.

I take a sip of coffee.

For eleven days, half this town has been committed to the cause, even though they didn’t know it.

I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.

Nothing.

If Roman is still in Hollow Creek, he doesn't want to be found.

The thought hurts more than I want it to.

I've treated finding him like a challenge. Something I could solve if I tried hard enough.

But Roman isn't a missing set of keys. He's a person.

And if he doesn't want me to find him... I have to respect that.

Fuck. I hate being emotionally mature.

I pull my phone from my purse and open the photo I've shown half of Hollow Creek.

Roman stares back at me.

Dark hair. Whiskey-brown eyes. That permanent expression that says he might kill someone for breathing too loudly.

My chest aches.

Roman knows my name. He knows where I live. If he wanted to find me, he could.

The realization hurts more than it should.

I swallow.

I’m done chasing.

Now it’s up to him.

I raise my coffee cup. “If a six-foot-four grumpy man comes in here asking about me, you have my permission to give him my number.”

Gracie grins. “The hitman?”

“Alleged hitman.”

“Right.”

“And don't tell him I called him my future husband.”

“That was Agnes.”