Page 122 of Unfiltered
“I’d hardly call a pickleball tournament running away.” Ricki went back to the cupboards, pulled more food out, and shoved it into her bag.
“Jesus, you two have to get over it. Abby’s been acting weird and distant all week, too.” It was starting to wear on Blythe’s patience.
Ricki glanced at Blythe. “Abby’s acting weird?”
“Yes! I get it. It freaked the two of you out, but shit happens. We can’t undo it. But the sooner you guys get over the embarrassment or shame or whatever you overly self-conscious people feel, then the sooner things can get back to normal. And you can’t get over it until you’re around each other.”
“You should make Abby feel comfortable first. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me. Did you ever consider that?”
“Come on. That’s a cop-out.”
“Besides, it’s not good for your relationship to have a third wheel around all the time.”
“Dude, how many times do I have to reassure you that you’re not a third wheel? Are you still on that kick?”
“It’s not a kick. I should focus on my life, not hang with you and your girlfriend.”
“You mean your best friend and your literary bestie?”
Ricki flinched. “I only have one best friend. Besides, you should want to spend time alone with your girlfriend. Isn’t that what couples do?”
“Not all couples.” Her response was lacking, but she couldn’t share that she enjoyed Abby more when it was the three of them. Even the sex was hotter. But Ricki would run from the room if Blythe revealed that.
“Well, I can’t help you with that. It’s your relationship, not mine.” Ricki picked up her bag of food.
“Can’t you stick around for a little longer?” Blythe glanced at her phone. “Abby should be here in twenty minutes.”
Ricki snatched her bag of clothes from the ground. “Nope, I’ve got to go.” She headed for the door.
“But I know she’d love to see you. It’ll make both of you feel better. At least say hi.”
“Sorry. Can’t.” Ricki rushed out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you Sunday night,” she called from the hallway.
Blythe sighed. If she’d known a threesome would make Ricki so uncomfortable, she never would have suggested it.
Blythe held open the door as Abby walked up the sidewalk, carrying her bag. “Did you run into traffic?”
“Yeah.” Abby hefted her bag up the stairs. “There was an accident on 55.”
When Abby entered the house, she scanned the living room, and then her face fell.
“She’s gone already,” Blythe said.
“Oh.” Abby dropped her bag to the floor, looking exhausted. “I thought she’d at least stay and say hi.”
Blythe shouldn’t lie, but she wanted to erase the disappointment on Abby’s face. “She really had to get going. Couldn’t be late.”
Abby’s face lit up. “Do you think we could go watch her play?”
“She just said it was in Indiana.”
“You could text her.” Abby’s voice brimmed with hope.
Blythe didn’t want to dash it, but it was best to pull the Band-Aid off. “I don’t think she wants us there.”
“I see.” Abby picked up her bag and started toward Blythe’s bedroom.
“Don’t I get a hug?”
