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Honestly, the best thing about Philadelphia is and always has been Gritty. Abby would swear to it.

Nonetheless, when she gets the message from a headhunter on LinkedIn informing her of an opportunity at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, followed by a call from the Penn Museum, she can’t really say no (even if she’s wondering what’s in the Philadelphia water to create such an odd coincidence). After a flurry of messages and two phone interviews, Abby finds herself making the trip over on a Thursday night for Friday morning and afternoon interviews followed by a weekend in the city to determine if the conversations are worth continuing (assuming she doesn’t blow the interviews, of course).

The morning starts at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (where she arrives 27 minutes early, not that traffic makes her paranoid). She slowly meanders through, taking in as much as she can, some of her favorite pieces working their magic to calm the nerves she’s surprised are as active as they are.

The interview is actually fantastic, and Abby strolls out of the building an hour and a half later feeling cautiously optimistic it works out. She shares as much with John once she flops into the driver’s seat of her car and responds to his five eager messages pressing her for details on the interview.

She’s still buzzing several hours later at her next interview at the Penn Museum, and the hour passes in a blur. Still, she leaves with a positive feeling once again.

Maybe it really was time to leave Pittsburgh behind.

The city hadn’t exactly been kind to her in recent years, after all. Sure, she grew up there, but the last decade and a half hadn’t exactly been a paradise. Between her parents’ deaths, her divorce, and recently being slighted by the department head refusing to put her forth for tenure at the university, Pittsburgh was beginning to have a bitter aftertaste.

Abby smirks to herself as she gets back to the parking lot and unlocks her car, resolving to treat Philadelphia with an open mind for the weekend. She starts the car and sets off, slowly winding around the parking lot’s narrow one-way drive towards the entrance/exit, making a mental note of the vehicle charging station located in the corner. “Convenient,” she mutters, adding a mental plus-one to the Penn Museum list of pros. She passes it up this time, having charged the car at the hotel in the morning, but slows to a crawl anyway as she looks around to see what else she might have missed as she arrived.

As she nearly rolls to a stop, a car flies around the corner and zooms into one of the charging spots, its driver springing out of the vehicle what feels like milliseconds after the car comes to a halt. The woman grabs the charging cable, quickly swiping at the payment reader and plugging the cable into her car in a cloud of dark brown hair and green surgical scrubs.

Abby has to squint when it dawns on her. She shifts into park, hopping out of the car and perching her arms on top. “Riley?” she calls out tentatively.

“Jesus!” the woman shrieks, visibly jumping. “You scared the shit out of me,” she mutters, but somehow at full volume, before looking up. “Abby?”

Abby feels relief that she wasn’t hallucinating. “Holy shit. I thought that was you.”

“Well, well, well, Abby Holland, here in Philly. As I live and breathe,” Riley drawls, leaning against the side of her car. “Wait, did you change your name? Should I have said, ‘Abby Caldwell, as I live and breathe?’” She straightens, seeming to think better of leaning against the car, brushing pollen off her scrubs.

A bitter laugh escapes the back of Abby’s throat, but she pushes it back quickly. “It was Holland-Caldwell, actually,” she clarifies weakly. “Just Holland now. Again. For, uh, a couple of years now, I mean.”

Riley clicks her tongue as she nods knowingly. “Understood,” she acknowledges before moving on quickly. “And what brings you to the city of brotherly love, Abby Holland Again?”

Abby laughs more softly this time. “A job interview. Two, actually. One of which was just, uh, there,” she adds, pointing at the museum. “What about you?”

Riley seems jarred back into reality and shakes her head a little. “Oh. Well, I moved here three years ago after my residency ended. Working just, uh, there,” she mimics, pointing at the hospital. “Pediatric surgery.”

“Wow,” Abby blurts out, impressed. “A surgeon at Penn. You must be a real hit with the hairdressers-with-weird-fingers of the world these days.”

Riley chuckles. “Yes and no. Lucky for me, they seem to think that I don’t understand adult health anymore since I work with kids. Joke’s on them,” she quips.

Abby notices a car entering the parking lot and becomes acutely aware that she’s blocking the way around and out. “I should move my car,” she comments nervously. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna be here all weekend. Would you wanna grab dinner tonight? Or a drink or whatever?”

“I can’t,” Riley answers quickly before shaking her head again. “That came out wrong. I have surgery in a few hours, and it’s going to last a while, so I meant I can’t tonight. What about tomorrow? Do you have plans?”

Abby grins. “You’re literally the only person I know here, which feels like a stretch considering I haven’t seen you in like five years, so that’s a hard no.” Abby’s eyes widen. “I mean, on the having plans part. Tomorrow works,” she adds hastily.

Riley smirks. “Six.” She comments simply.

“At six?”

“No,” Riley laughs. “It’s been six years.”

“Damn,” Abby mutters. “Time flies when you’re having a hell of a time.”

“But six also works. Do you prefer to eat dinner at Retired People o’clock?”

Abby rolls her eyes as hard as she can to be sure Riley sees them from the distance she’s at, which reminds her that she was going to move her car. She glances around again and notices that the car that had entered the lot seems to have parked, so she closes the door and moves around the car towards Riley. “Oh, totally. It’s actually why I keep my hair this shade of blonde. Easier to cover up the grey, you know?” She punctuates her comment with a push of her hand through her hair.

“Oh, I believe it. You’re practically ancient.”

Abby snorts. “Aren’t we the same age?”

“Probably,” Riley acquiesces. “But I’m not the one planning my evening around the early bird special at Golden Corral.”

“Hey!” Abby squeaks. “Who said anything about Golden Corral? And this is your city, apparently. Shouldn’t you be trying to impress me with what it has to offer?”

Riley gestures dramatically at herself. “I’m here, so I mean, it has that to offer.”

“And, so far, you’ve basically called me a grandma. Compelling.”

“I try,” Riley retorts, glancing at the charging meter and removing the plug from her car. “But seriously. I’m off tomorrow...well, I mean, allegedly, because you never really know what’s gonna happen, but yeah. Just say when.”

Abby shoves her hands in her pockets. “Well, I don’t wanna impose.”

Riley rolls her eyes, but it’s good-natured and accompanied by a smirk. “Come on, grandma. Be direct.”

Abby glares. “Is your phone number the same?” Riley seems to take a moment to process the question, so Abby continues. “I mean, since Christmasageddon. Do you have the same phone number?”

“Oh,” Riley blurts out as she catches up. “Yeah. It’s the same. Wait, you still have it?”

Abby furrows her brow. “You don’t have mine?”

“No. I think you only called once or twice, and I didn’t save it because I thought, ‘oh, it’ll be in the call log.’ But then I dropped my phone and shattered it before it backed up again, and yeah. Call log gone,” she explains, shrugging.

“Oh. Okay, that...makes sense. So...I’ll just, um, text you, yeah? And then you can...text me. Tomorrow. Or whenever. And we can make plans.”

“Relying on me to wake up from weekend hibernation...bold move, Abby Now-Holland. But okay.” Riley opens the driver’s side door of her car and grabs her backpack from the front seat. “I gotta run. But you have my number, so you have the power now. And for six years, apparently,” she finishes with a devilish grin. “See you tomorrow.”

“Right. I’ll text you. Good luck with Do you say that?” Abby muses, taking a step backward towards her car. “I’ll text you.”

“Looking forward to it,” Riley calls out, walking back towards the hospital. “Bye.”


She catches a glimpse of a frazzled Riley sprinting back to her car and reparking away from the charging station as she leaves the lot.

Abby’s barely back at her hotel for five minutes before she fires off the promised text. Hi, it’s Abby. Just wanted you to have my number. I’ll text you tomorrow so we can make plans. It was really good to see you.

Riley’s response (likewise) arrives less than fifteen seconds later.

Abby’s sitting on a bench enjoying what the majority of TripAdvisor and Yelp users both allege to be the best Philly cheesesteak in, well, Philly when Riley reaches out the next day.

Me being awake just after noon on a Saturday might be a record. You must be in luck

Abby grins and takes the last bite of her sandwich, seeking out the napkin she’d been battling with the wind to control for the better part of ten minutes. I guess I should buy a lottery ticket today, then, she replies.

Dibs on five percent since I tipped you off, Riley replies immediately, followed by, Where’s your hotel?

Abby grabs her messenger bag and trash off the bench and sets off again, intent on continuing her leisurely stroll around the city. Near Penn Museum, she types quickly, balancing an empty water bottle, sandwich wrapper, and wad of napkins alongside her phone.

You drove to your interview from there?!

Abby wishes Riley could see her roll her eyes. I drove from the other museum! I didn’t want to walk and risk getting sweaty or getting pooped on by a bird!

Why did she say that?

...does that happen to you often? Should I bring an umbrella to dinner?

Abby sighs and elects to change the subject. Speaking of dinner. Could I persuade you into free drinks at six instead of senior citizen dining?

Her phone rings instantly, and it’s Riley, who says, “I’m listening,” instead of a greeting.

Abby chuckles. “I got upgraded at my hotel, and they have free drinks from five to seven.”

“Umm, and why aren’t we starting at five? The phrase is, ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ for a reason.”

“Oh, um,” Abby stutters. “We can. I just didn’t wanna take up too much of your time.”

Riley scoffs playfully. “Please. You’re offering me free alcohol. And I could have also just said no if I wasn’t willing to donate my time to the Abby Now-Holland Case for Philadelphia Loners.”

“Haha,” Abby deadpans. “Okay. Then you can start your donation at five if you want.”

“Great,” Riley says, sounding almost chipper. “Which hotel?”

“The Inn at Penn. It’s on-”

“I know where it is,” Riley interrupts gently. “I pass it all the time when I’m walking near the hospital. I’ll meet you in the lobby at five?”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what, do your parents’ friends’ grandkids approach you with their ailments now, or are you finally free from being the community doctor?” Abby jokes.

“I’m free, but give it a few years. Most of the grandkids are too young for now,” Riley cautions before taking the last sip of her second martini. “Should I get us another one, or do you wanna head to Golden Corral?”

“Shut up,” Abby says through a laugh. “One more, but then we should go, or we’re going to be sleeping at Retired People o’clock instead.”

Riley makes a toasting motion with the empty glass. “Copy that,” she agrees as she sets off for the bar.

She returns a few minutes later, drinks in hand. “Madame,” she says with a terrible accent as she hands over a glass. “I told them to hold the olive in yours this time since you keep wasting them.”

“Hey, olives are disgusting!” Abby defends indignantly. “And you ate them, so they weren’t wasted.”

Riley fishes the olive out of her own drink and pops it in her mouth. “Fair point. Anything else you don’t like? Just trying to choose a dinner location strategically to maximize my odds at free food.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going yet?!”

Riley shrugs. “I live here. We can wing it. It’s fine.” She washes down the olive with a sip of the martini.

Abby takes a sip of her own drink, relishing the ease of not having to avoid the olive at the bottom (she was nearly done with her first before she’d admitted to Riley that she couldn’t stand them). “You’re the boss.”

“That was easy. Should we swing by a mall first?”

“Low blow!” Abby complains.

Riley laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I still think about that once in a while, picturing you with a Paul Blart wannabe.”

“Hey now, don’t forget Paulette Blart. There were two mall cops needed to control my wild criminality.”

“Oh, right, of course. Abby Then-Holland, wanted felon.”

“Nah,” Abby dismisses. “That was definitely a misdemeanor.”

“Shh, just go with it. It’s funnier that way.”

“Man, what a time. Still one of the worst weeks of my life, outshined only by my parents literally dying and my marriage figuratively dying,” Abby comments, taking a large sip of her drink.

“Mmm,” Riley hums into her glass. “About that…”

“What happened, right?” Abby tries to fill in the blank.

“I wasn’t gonna bring it up,” Riley clarifies with a slight grimace.

“It’s fine,” Abby dismisses with a wave of her hand, her other hand idly turning the glass in circles by its stem. “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want,” Riley offers casually. “Last I saw, you’d justifiably stormed out of the Caldwell house and left Harper to her implausible deniability. Next I heard it was almost a year later, and my parents were getting an invitation to the wedding in the mail.”

“Right. Okay. Well, obviously, we needed some...time after that weekend. Harper came after me when John and I left, and I went back with her, but things weren’t straightforward right away. It took a few weeks and then even a few months before we got back to something really...good? Solid? I dunno, it’s hard to see it that way now,” she comments with a furrowed brow. “Anyway, I guess you probably remember that I said I was gonna propose on Christmas, and I finally did in October. She said yes, and then the wedding was...exactly what you’d expect from something Tipper was involved with.”

“Can’t believe I missed that,” Riley deadpans.

“Why did you miss that, anyway?”

“You got married in the summer, which is a tough time to take off when you work in peds. All the elective and non-as-time-sensitive stuff gets pushed to when the kids are out of school anyway. And I guess I figured you guys didn’t actually want me there.”

“What? Why?” Abby hastens to ask, surprised.

“Well, considering I pretty much never heard from you again aside from just happening to see you at pride with Harper’s parents…”

“Shit,” Abby mutters. “I’m sorry. That really wasn’t on purpose. It’s just, um…”

“It’s cool, Abby. We had a friendship of convenience for a weekend.”

“No!” Abby squeaks. “That’s not what I meant. What I wanted to say is that, uh, well…” she trails off, scratching at the back of her head. “Harper didn’t the idea of our friendship continuing.” Riley’s eyebrows shoot up when her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t comment, so Abby continues. “She saw us in town that day, and then she tried to blame me having had enough of her shit with Connor on me spending time with you. It just became this weird, awkward, sensitive topic, and I just...tried to avoid it because it was one of the more controllable topics we’d fight about. Which is really fucked up, I know. And I’m really sorry. I actually realized it, like, three or four years ago already, but by then, it just felt stupid and too late to do anything about it,” she finishes sheepishly, eyes fixated on her hand, which is still twisting the stem of her glass. “And it’s not an excuse, but I had no idea you didn’t have my number anymore, so I just figured you didn’t care.”

“I did,” Riley disagrees quickly. “But I couldn’t find you on Facebook or Instagram, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna go through Harper to contact you.”

“Oh, God, no, I wouldn’t have expected you to do that. Man. What might have been.”

“Mhm,” Riley hums in agreement into her glass again, quickly polishing off her last drink. “Do you want food? I want food.”

They’re sitting in a restaurant and sipping on water shortly after arriving at Riley’s chosen restaurant when it comes up again. “I just realized I didn’t really finish answering about what happened because of my tangent about ghosting you. Sorry,” Abby admits sheepishly. “Do you even wanna hear that?”

“If you wanna tell me, I’m interested.”

“Right. Well, we got married, as you know, and it was actually...great? I guess. Or it seemed that way, for maybe a year or so. Then all the problems that were always festering just under the surface snuck out of the honeymoon phase and took over. Halfway through year two, we were fighting like crazy, and in the third year, we were actively avoiding each other. We didn’t hit our third anniversary. The details really aren’t exciting...nobody cheated or anything. Just two people who never should have gotten married in the first place realizing that way too long after the ink dried.”

Riley offers a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Abby. I know it’s been years now, but still. That sucks.”

“Yeah, well, live and learn, right?” she dismisses stiffly. “What about you? Are you married?”

Riley bursts out laughing. “No, definitely not.”

“What? Why is that a crazy question?”

“Oh, it’s not,” Riley clarifies. “I’ve just...never even come remotely close to that.”

“What about...oh man, what was her name? I’m sorry. The one you were at pride with. You guys seemed so happy!”

“Jessie,” Riley fills in. “Let’s just say she preferred the company of women whose age had a ‘two’ out front. Wasn’t really compatible with a doctor in their thirties working insane hours and barely penciling her in.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. What about since then?”

“Eh. A couple girlfriends here and there. Nothing worth writing home about.”

“And now?” Abby presses.

Riley quirks a brow. “Now...we...order food?”

Abby laughs through her nose. “No, I mean, are you dating somebody now?”

“Oh. No. You?”

“No. I-”

“Are we ready, or do we need a few more minutes?” the waiter’s voice breaks in.

“Uh,” they stammer simultaneously.

Abby speaks up again first. “We’re ready.”

Later, they’re slowly making their way down the sidewalk from the restaurant to the bar Riley has in mind when Abby breaks the silence after a few quiet, food-coma-like minutes. “Riley, I’m really sorry,” she says sincerely, slowing her walk dramatically to look at the other woman seriously.

Riley stops, scrunching her face up in confusion as they stop and move to the side to let the other pedestrians pass. “Why? Did you forget something? Should we go back?”

“No, no. I mean I’m really sorry that you never heard from me again. You did so much for me on one of the worst weekends ever, and then I just vanished. I promise I wasn’t, like, using you.”

“It’s fine,” Riley tries to dismiss.

“It really isn’t,” Abby insists. “I know I can’t change it, but I dunno. I just really wanted to say that.”

“Abby,” Riley sighs. “You couldn’t know that I didn’t have your number anymore. For all I knew, you also thought I wanted nothing to do with you. Which really couldn’t have been further from the truth, for the record,” Riley adds with a nervous laugh. “But yeah. It was hard to take it too personally when I knew what you didn’t know. Or whatever. I dunno if that made sense.”

Abby laughs. “Oh. Okay. I mean, yes, it makes sense. Well...good, I guess?”

“Can I ask one thing, though?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever think about it? Me? Contacting me?”

Abby’s throat constricts a little, and something like an awkward laugh makes a valiant attempt to creep out. “All the time.”

Riley beams but suppresses it quickly. “Too bad you didn’t. We could have had so many years of visiting Golden Corral together.”

“Shut up,” Abby jokes.

They continue their walk towards the bar, and the topic gives way to idle chatter about the city.

Two hours and two drinks later, they’re huddled together in a tiny corner booth of a packed drag bar.

“This feels very familiar. Have I mentioned that I already?” Abby points out.

“Once or twice,” Riley laughs into her beer glass.

“You’re not gonna make me sing again, are you? That’s only allowed for Christmas songs, and it’s May. I don’t approve.”

“Oh, god, no. I don’t even know these drag queens here like that. The others simply witnessed far too many nights of my misspent youth.”

“Good,” Abby sighs in relief. “Nobody needs to hear that.”

“Oh, come on,” Riley pushes, nudging Abby’s shoulder with her own. “It was kind of adorable, you getting all flustered and literally giggling into the microphone. Wouldn’t have picked you for a giggler.”

“What?!” Abby squawks. “How do you even remember that? There’s no way that I giggled. I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, you definitely did. I remember it vividly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Abby tries to brush off. “If you say so.”

Riley smirks proudly. “Thank you. I say so. And you giggled. Don’t worry, it was charming.”

Abby buries her face in her hands. “Whatever you say,” she says through them.

“Stop hiding. I already called you adorable and charming. What more do you want?!”

Abby perks up. “That’s true. You did. I feel better now, thank you.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Note to self, pay compliments twice, or they’ll be ignored.”

Abby doesn’t react, instead saying, “Can I ask you something?”

Riley arches a brow. “Sure,” she agrees skeptically.

“Why were you so nice to me then?”

Riley takes a deep breath before answering. “Do you remember when I accidentally eavesdropped on your phone call at the country club and said I could relate?”


“Well, I could. You just...really seemed like somebody who needed somebody to put them first. I didn’t mind being that somebody,” she explains. “I mean, it was only three days,” she adds sarcastically with a wink.

“Yeah. I guess it just...should have been more. I dunno. I dunno what I’m saying right now,” Abby mutters, shaking her head as she grabs her beer. “It meant a lot to me, you know. I don’t think I would have survived without you.”

“Oh, you totally would have. You left before White Elephant anyway, which is the only time anyone runs the risk of murder in that town,” Riley jokes.

Abby chuckles. “Refill?” she offers, rising from the booth, desperate to break the tension she suddenly feels.

Riley takes the last sip of her beer. “Sure. Thanks.”

Abby returns a few minutes later, looking sheepish as she hands Riley her fresh beer. “Sorry it took so long, I had to pee, too, and there was a line.” She slides into the booth, going just a little too far and pressing into Riley’s side. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Don’t be,” Riley dismisses. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Of course. Fair’s fair.”

“Okay,” Riley says, voice slightly uneven. “Why didn’t you reach out to me if you were thinking about it all the time? At least after things with Harper ended.”

Abby groans. “I did think about it so many times, and I just didn’t know what to say. ‘Hi, Riley, do you even remember me?’ didn’t seem appealing. ‘Hi, Riley, I’m sorry I vanished after you were amazing to me for four days, but I’m divorcing and allowed to talk to you again, so what’s up?’ didn’t seem right.”

“So you just went for...nothing?”

Abby cringes. “I dunno. I was also kind of afraid you’d be like, what? Who? Bye! And meanwhile, I was just in my own world angsting about the whole thing and you.”

“Oh my god, no!” Riley cries out. “I would literally never. I’m pretty sure your giggle still haunts my dreams.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go with ‘nightmares,’ but I’m really not sure what to take away from the word ‘haunts,’” Abby comments doubtfully.

Riley glares at her. “That’s what you took out of that? Really?”

Abby shrugs playfully. “I’m still skeptical about the giggle.”

Riley sighs as the music gets louder, and she slides back against Abby’s side. “Look, can I be brutally honest with you? Like, ‘detailing thoughts that I haven’t thought about in five years’ level honest?”

“Please,” Abby encourages.

“When I saw you on the street that night, and you said you wanted a drink, I took you to that bar because honestly, at that point, my goal was just to prove that I knew Harper was hiding a girlfriend again. It was obvious, but I wanted you to admit it. Call it vindication for my teenage years. But then...god,” she trails off, fingers tightening around her glass. “Then you were so goddamn charming and humble it really just succeeded in escalating my level of hatred for Harper Caldwell,” she admits with a bitter laugh. “By the time we were singing, I didn’t give a shit about why we got there because, at that point, I thought you were pretty much the coolest person I’d ever met.”

Abby can’t seem to find the words for more and squeaks out a simple, “Oh.”

“Yeah. So...that giggle? That was the tipping point. That was when you went from my ex’s girlfriend to somebody,” Riley stops abruptly, swallowing thickly. “Else.”

Abby furrows her brow. “Somebody else?”

Riley sighs heavily again. “You know how, right before you left, I moved over and sat next to you?”

Abby nods. “Right, yeah. They were singing behind you.”

Riley nods halfheartedly. “Yeah, well, that was a reason. But it was mostly just because I was tipsy and one-hundred percent considering seeing what would happen if I just casually did something like this,” she says tentatively, dropping a hand to rest on Abby’s knee.

Abby draws in a shuddery breath. “I see. And what would you have done if I’d jumped up, screeching about, ‘what are you doing? I have a girlfriend?’”

Riley snorts. “You wouldn’t have done that. You barely even blinked when I sat there, and it took less than an hour to notice that you’re the opposite of a hothead. Besides, I would have just said you had something on your pants.”

“Smooth,” Abby jokes. “And...what would you have done if I would have done this?” she tests, placing her own hand on Riley’s mid-thigh, fingers draped to the inside.

Riley bites her lip. “Are you asking me as Abby Now-Holland or Abby Then-Holland, who I knew had a girlfriend she was distraught over?”

Abby lets out a laugh through her nose. “I’m asking as me, sitting here with her hand on your leg and thinking about where we’d be right now if you’d done it six years ago.”

“Well,” Riley begins slowly, “if I don’t have to worry about Harper trying to murder me at a Christmas party two days later, I’m definitely gonna just go for it.”

Abby gnaws at her lip. “We’ve established that it’s May, so I think you’re safe from both my ex-wife and Christmas parties.”

“Right,” Riley says with a nod. “Then I-”

“Fuck it,” Abby says suddenly, using the hand she has on Riley’s thigh for leverage to pull them closer together as she leans in for a short but searing kiss. “Please tell me that’s what you would have done.”

“That’s...absolutely what I would have wanted to do, yes,” Riley agrees breathily.

“Would have wanted? Past tense?”

“Hell no,” she says confidently, leaning forward to bring their lips together again. “Present tense,” she says against Abby’s lips. “And basically all the time in between.”

Abby pulls back slightly, grinning widely. “Wait, really?”

“Did I not make that obvious with the whole, ‘your giggle haunts my dreams’ thing?”

“Right, yeah, duh. I guess I’m just glad I wasn’t the only one having the experience.”

Riley’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Duh! Why do you think I was angsting over whether you were thinking about me the way I was thinking about you?”

“Okay, we’re gonna come back to...all this,” Riley insists with a hand gesture around them, “but right now, I’d really like to go back to the kissing, if that’s okay with you.”

“That is so okay with me.”

Abby doesn’t get the job at the Penn Museum, but it works out when she gets a call with an offer from the Philadelphia Museum of Art two days later. Besides, moving to a new city - the same one as her now-girlfriend - and having what would technically be the same employer - The University of Pennsylvania - is a level of unintentional U-Hauling Abby’s just not sure she could stomach.

One thing was for sure, though: Gritty was definitely demoted to the second best thing about Philadelphia.