“Whoa.” Blythe had been standing in the doorway while they talked, but she closed the distance between them. “That job is fucking up your personality.” Blythe grinned. “Not that you had much of one before.”
“I’m going for my run.” Ricki started to walk away.
Blythe grabbed Ricki’s arm. “Would you stop for a second?”
Ricki spun around and glared at Blythe’s hand on her arm. Noticing the look in Ricki’s eyes, Blythe let go and backed up a step. “Dude. You’re wound tight.”
“Sorry,” Ricki muttered. “I just need to go for my run.”
“When are you going to be back?”
Ricki shrugged. “I should stop at the office after I’m done. Since Munson was away this weekend, he’ll show up Monday ready to kick the team into overdrive. His words. I’d call it kicking our asses.”
Blythe’s jaw tightened. Ricki had been so relaxed this weekend, but the thought of work was already pulling her down. Knowing better than to say anything about Ricki quitting, Blythe said, “Aren’t you going to the Field Museum and Shedd Aquarium with us today?”
“No, I should get a head start on Monday. Besides, after last night, you’ll want couple time.”
“Jesus. I told you. Nothing happened.”
“Right.” Ricki headed toward the door.
“I swear on Granny’s grave.”
Ricki stopped in her tracks. It was the one thing they said whenever they wanted to certify they were telling the truth.
When Ricki spun around, her face was red. She pointed at Blythe. “Don’t you ever say that when you’re lying.”
“I’m. Fucking. Not. Lying.” Blythe moved toward Ricki. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’d never use Granny’s name in a lie.”
“But what about that picture?”
“We were eating popcorn in bed and answering all the comments on our posts.”
“You know what it looks like, don’t you?”
Blythe laughed. “Of course I do.”
“And Abby’s okay with that?”
“Jesus. We weren’t born in the eighteenth century. It won’t sully her reputation, and nobody’s going to plaster a scarlet letter on her forehead.”
“You’re such an idiot. Hester didn’t have a scarlet letter on her forehead.”
“Who the hell is Hester?” Blythe said in a loud voice, tiring of this conversation.
“Prynne,” Ricki shouted back.
“The Scarlet Letter,” Abby said from the hallway.
Blythe shot Ricki a look, hoping she read the accusation of waking Abby.
Abby’s hair was mussed and her eyes sleepy when she entered the kitchen. “You two never cease to surprise me.” Abby smiled. “Talking aboutThe Scarlet Letterthis early in the morning.”
Blythe flipped her thumb toward Ricki. “She’s afraid our post last night turned you into Hester Prune.”
“Prynne,” Abby and Ricki said together.
“Prynne. Prune. Whatever.”
