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“Your pancakes with a side of bacon,” the waitress announced as she set their plates down in front of them.

“I’m so sorry… Can we get some to-go containers?” Quinn asked.

“Quinn, no,” Abby said. “We’re okay. Thank you,” she added to the waitress.

“All right. Enjoy your breakfast.” The woman walked off.

“Abs, we can take our breakfast to the shop and check out the other pictures.”

“Quinn, we keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Trying to focus on us and getting sidetracked by all of them.”

“I’m sorry; aren’t you the chief investigator out of the two of us?”

“First of all, I love that nickname, so call me that any time. But, second, the pictures will still be there after we eat, and I can go to the shop with you to check them out before I go home to write.”

“You’re right,” Quinn replied with a nod. “It’s just still so new to me. We were all these other women at some point, and they always found each other. Although, it’s not like there are pictures in there of Agnes and Frances or even the Spanish princess and her wife… Only a few of the couples probably even got a chance to take a photo together. Still, it’s very tempting to go see them, to try to keep piecing together this timeline. We didn’t even read the book yet to see what Cheryl and Diana had discovered. We were supposed to do that this morning.”

“You wanted pancakes and bacon,” Abby replied. “And youshouldhave your pancakes and bacon. The book isn’t going anywhere, either.”

“I wish I could just close the shop for the day, but it’s one of only a couple of busy days I might get in a week. Is it okay if we look at the pictures first before I close up later and come over to your place? We can go through the book then.”

“You don’t want to go out somewhere?”

“We can go out for dinner and maybe something after that, but then, your place.”

“You’re staying over again, huh?” Abby said.

“Yeah. I should probably tell you that now, shouldn’t I?”

“Just pack a bag this time. My clothes are a little small on you.”

“Hey!”

“What? You’re taller than me.” Abby laughed. “And you’re also skinnier, so shut up.”

“I love your curves,” Quinn said. “And I’d like to kissall of them tonight since last night, you kept me north of your boobs.”

Abby laughed again. She was already falling in love with Quinn Jordan, and she knew it. Their shared past aside, she knew these feelings were real. And they were for Quinn only, not Harriet, Frances, or any of the others. Quinn was kind, caring, smart, funny, and so very beautiful that Abby just wanted to tell her already that she loved her. Still, Quinn was right earlier: they should do this right. They should go on dates and make sure that they were compatible in this lifetime before either of them said those words, almost especiallybecauseof their past lives together.

“Want the strawberry syrup?” Quinn asked her after pouring some of the stuff on her own pancakes.

“Gross. No. That’s not real strawberry. It’s just all sugar.”

“So? It tastes good.”

“I don’t think I can date you if you’re a sugar addict. You’ll be a bad influence on me.”

“Are you a health nut, and I just didn’t see it? I seem to recall you enjoying Alfredo sauce and garlic bread last night.”

“Carbs are my friend. Sugar is fine in moderation.”

“So, you won’t even use themaplesyrup?”

“I usually just eat my pancakes with butter only.”