Love and Miss Communication Read Online Free PDF

the floor. Around her, wedding guests gasped and laughed quietly until someone let out a roar, giving license to everyone else to let it rip. Her phone lay faceup, its red message light flashing, in the center of a white marble diamond. As she bent down to reach for it with a shaky hand, the damn thing started to ring.

Chapter 2
    She felt Tracy grab her hand and pull her into the ladies’ room. They stood at the sinks, Evie’s flaming cheeks burning under the fluorescent lights.
    “Are you kidding me, Evie?”
    “I had no place to put my phone, okay!” she hissed. “You don’t understand. I have a closing on Tuesday and half the people on the deal are in the Hong Kong office. It’s morning there—I can’t just take off because I’m at a wedding.”
    “So you’re a slacker if you don’t put your phone in your underwear? By the way, that’s what pockets are for.”
    “It didn’t fit in my purse. Stupid Judith Leiber. Caroline bought me this gajilion-dollar bag and it barely holds a lipstick.”
    “That’s no excuse. Why the hell are you so obsessed with that thing anyway?” Tracy glared at the BlackBerry curled in Evie’s hand.
    “I like my phone. It helps me feel connected,” she answered, adding what she believed to be an “I’m not hurting anyone” shrug.
    “To what?”
    “People, work, plans, news, the cultural zeitgeist . . . I don’t know.” Evie leaned toward the vanity to reapply her lip gloss. “Did Paul really need to announce that I’m single to the entire wedding?”
    “Maybe it’s not so bad he said it. Get the word out, you know?” Tracy said, eyeing Evie’s reflection cautiously in the mirror.
    “I think my Facebook, JDate, and Match profiles have taken care of that already.”
    Tracy tapped on the door to one of the stalls. “The baby makes me have to go every two seconds lately.” She patted her stomach affectionately. Any discomfort the baby was causing was clearly a minor inconvenience to her. She practically jumped for joy when she felt a flutter in her belly, demanding that all her friends lay their hands on it like it was a Ouija board until they swore they felt movement too.
    “So I was chatting with Paul’s cousin before the toast. We were kind of hitting it off. Though let’s see if he’s still interested after I gave birth to a phone on the dance floor.” With that, Evie ducked into the stall next to Tracy’s.
    “Oh yeah? What’s his name?”
    “Luke.” She kept the Glasscock part to herself, otherwise Tracy would rename him Fragile-Dick in two seconds flat.
    “Well let’s go back and find him!” Tracy’s voice went up about four hopeful octaves.
    “I will.” Evie ran a hand over prickly calves. “Is there a razor in the toiletries basket?”
    “Nope.” Evie could hear Tracy rustling around the basket. “I have tweezers in my purse.”
    “Forget it,” Evie grumbled, emerging from the stall. “I haven’t quite had the time for proper grooming. Been at the office every night literally until two A.M .”
    “They’re killing you over there.” Tracy gave her a disapproving look. After completing her tenure teaching in a mobile trailer in hurricane-ransacked New Orleans, Tracy took a cushier job at the Brighton-Montgomery Preparatory School, an Upper East Side institution known for its rich academics and even richer student body. She worked hard, relentlessly grateful to have a proper classroom that didn’t double as a supply closet, art room, and teachers’ lounge, but when she didn’t have department meetings or professional workshops, she was home rubbing her pregnant belly in front of the TV by 4:30 P.M .
    “It’ll be better once I make partner,” Evie said, not actually sure if that was true. Would she really be any less anxious about her job just because she wasn’t trying to climb the ladder? There would always be some new box to check off. Getting more clients. An appointment to one of the firm’s management committees. The