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“Hilarious,” Quinn said back, also sarcastically, as she set her drink cup down. “I’m no writer, but maybe I could help.”

“Help me come up with an ending?”

“Why not? I haven’t read it, obviously, but you can fill me in on what you have so far. You’ve got nothing to lose, really. I won’t take offense if you don’t use my idea, assuming I have one. And if it helps you, that would be great, right?”

“So, just describe what I’ve written so far?”

“And maybe why you can’t think of how to end it.” Quinn shrugged a shoulder and picked up a French fry from her container.

“Okay. Well, you know the basics from the photo, right? The woman off to the side?”

“Yeah, I remember,” she replied, still wishing she would have kept the photo for herself.

And it was only then that she remembered that the box was still out there. She needed to bring it back here to see if she wanted to keep anything else from it before someone else tried to buy something. She suddenly felt very protective over that box and the photos she’d added to it a few days ago.

“So, I’m writing a story between the two women.”

Quinn nearly choked on her fry.

“Sorry?” she coughed out.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Abby asked.

“I’m fine,” she managed out before she picked up her tea and took another drink.

“I thought… I don’t know. I thought you’d be okay with that; two women falling in love,” Abby said, looking a little concerned.

“Yes, I am. I’m totally okay with that. Definitely okay with two women falling in love. Just wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were writing a story about the married couple. Maybe leadingupto them getting married or something.”

“No, I felt like the story was more between the two women. The maid of honor – or, at least, that’s who she is in my mind – is in love with the bride. The bride loves her back, but that wasn’t allowed in the 1930s, so their love is a forbidden love.”

“And you don’t know how to end it?” Quinn asked as she watched Abby eat a strip of bacon from her own BLT.

Abby had pulled the sandwich apart and had been eating things bit by bit more than as an actual sandwich. She’d used a fork to cut into her tomato and had topped it with a little lettuce and a small piece of bacon. The bread had been pushed to the side, so Quinn had asked if she wasn’t a fan of carbs or something. Abby had told her that she loved carbs but that they’d put too much mayo on the bread for her. Quinn didn’t have a problem with how Abby had then brought the fork to her mouth to take her bite. The whole thing had been adorable. Then, it had turned sexy as Abby had stared at her while she’d chewed.

“I don’t know how to end it because it’s the 30s, and they can’t actually have a happy ending, can they?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the 1930s, Quinn… I’ve got them in a tiny, rural town, not unlike what this one would’ve looked like in that time period. They’re two women owned by men, with no rights. Well, I guess they can vote, but that’s not important to my story. Parents essentially sold one of them off to the son of a neighboring farmer. That’s the man in the photo.”

“Okay. So, you want a happy ending but can’t find one?”

“I want it to be real,” Abby shared before she pushed the food container away. “This whole experience has felt so real to me, like someone is controlling my hands while I type,putting the idea into my brain, to begin with, telling me what the story is, and making me feel like it actually happened. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and it’s both amazing and a little scary at the same time. I want the ending to be real because of that. It’s just… The thought of them not ending up together – not getting that happily ever after – is sort of boiling my brain because I love them. I love what I’ve written of them so far, and I want them to have nothing standing between them. I already knew I had to give one of them a child.”

“Why?” Quinn asked.

“Well, because thatwasreal. It also hit me like a ton of bricks that Deb would have a son.”

“Deb?”

“Deborah. She’s the one who had to marry the man. He’s good to her, not a bad guy, and he’s got his own secret to keep, if you catch my drift.” She winked at Quinn.

“Ah… I see what you did there.”

“Weirdly, I didn’t even make that up. Well, I guess I did because I’m writing the story, but it hit me in the moment when I was writing the chapter about their wedding night.”

“Oh,” Quinn let out. “You wrotethat?”