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“You keep thinking that I’m going to run, Quinn. I’m not.”

“Okay. Well, can tonight be about you and me, not any of them?”

“Yes, I’d really like that. But I was supposed to cook for you, and you’re taking over my kitchen right now. So, what, exactly, am I supposed to do?”

“How about we just cook together?” Quinn suggested.

“Are you trying to end this thing on the first date? You really think we can cook a full meal in my small kitchen and make it out of here alive?”

Quinn chuckled and said, “I bought pasta and two kinds of sauce so that we wouldn’t have to make it from scratch. Marinara or Alfredo?”

“Alfredo,” Abby replied.

“My kind of woman,” Quinn said with a wink. “Can you get the pans out and fill one with water? I’ll get the rest of the stuff out of the bags.”

“Did you buy garlic bread?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So, not planning on having our first kiss tonight, then? Got it.”

Quinn laughed.

CHAPTER 33

“Idid that for about a year, hated it, quit as soon as I could, and got a job at a used bookstore off-campus, which I liked more, but by then, I was pretty sure I was going to leave school, so I only stayed for a few months. I used to think that’s when I started getting into old things. Some of the books we sold were first editions. Those were rare. Most of what we sold were just old books that people didn’t want anymore, but it was a good job for me. And when I found the antique shop here, I wondered if the reason I was so interested in it was that I loved the old books we sold back then,” Quinn shared before she lifted her wineglass to her lips and took a sip.

“You know how I’m writing Cheryl and Diana’s story?”

“Yeah.”

Quinn pushed her plate a little toward the middle of the table to indicate that she was done eating.

“Well, I have to tell you something.”

“Abs, I thought we weren’t doing this tonight.”

“We’re not. Not really. You just brought up the shop.” Abby picked up her own wineglass and drank the last sip. When Quinn reached for the bottle and refilled it for her, Abby smiled softly at her and added, “Diana and Cheryl were here. They came to town to see if they could find Paul, just to see him one time. When they were here, though, they saw whoever must have owned the shop before you. The man was painting the name on the window.”

“They sawmyshop?” she asked.

“Well, it wasn’t yours then, but yes.”

“I haven’t seen that vision myself. I wonder whyyoudid.”

“Probably because I was writing their story, and it sort of just fell out of me.”

“They saw Paul…” she whispered to herself.

“He was happy, Quinn.” Abby smiled wide. “I saw his daughters and his wife when they did. He was happy. Theywere having ice cream, and you – well, in this case, Diana and even Harriet more than theQuinnyou – gave him a sign so that he would know that his moms were okay, too. It was beautiful, and I cried. Then, my publisher called me, and I owe her Harriet and Deb pages, which I haven’t written yet because I can’t focus on them while Cheryl and Diana are talking to me.”

“I want to see him, too,” Quinn said.

“You will. I’m sure you will. Maybe when you read what I wrote for their ending, you will. I can bring my laptop in, or you can read it on my phone, if you want.”

“Abs…” Quinn shook her head.

Abby nodded and replied, “Right. Sorry. Not tonight. Tonight is about us.”