LoveLines Read Online Free PDF Page A

When they get that phlegm in their throats and sort of choke on it?”
    I stifled a howl.
    “A man sleeping is just about as disgusting as a fart,” Erica said.
    I guffawed, then slapped a hand over my mouth when Annie shifted on my lap.
    “You’re too hard on him,” I said softly. “You’re bossy and impossible, and he’s gonna divorce you eventually.”
    Erica shrugged. “I’d never let him.”
    I smiled then jerked my head at the sound of the front door. Noah trudged in with bags of groceries in his arms.
    “You switched with him this time?” I asked.
    “I didn’t think you wanted to accompany me to the grocery store,” Erica said.
    “Yeah, but you’re psycho when it comes to your groceries. You have to know he probably got half the list wrong.”
    Erica shrugged. “Eh. I think they call it compromise.”
    “Erica!” Noah called from the kitchen. Both children instantly awoke.
    “Honey, we’re in here,” Erica said patiently. “And you woke up the kids.”
    Noah poked his head in the living room. “Oh, hey Bailey.”
    “‘Sup?” I asked.
    “Just finishing up my woman’s work,” he replied, grinning. “You know, picking up dry cleaning. Grocery shopping. Running to the post office.”
    “Cute,” Erica said.
    “Wait, I get the first two, but the post office? I think that’s gender neutral,” I said.
    “Doesn’t involve a wrench, oil, or ladder, so it classifies as woman’s work,” Noah explained.
    “Are you done?” Erica asked patiently.
    Noah approached his wife and leaned over, kissing her long and slow. I averted my eyes and covered Annie’s. I don’t know why, but I felt like it was too much passion for a two-year-old to witness. She wriggled out of my arms and latched on to her father’s leg.
    “Little Orphan Annie,” Noah said, picking her up and kissing her cheek. It was a thing they did. He kissed her cheek. She kissed his. And they went back and forth unti l Annie tired of the game. She made it to five pecks before she was distracted by a toy on the floor. Noah set her on her feet.
    “Why do you insist on calling her that?” Erica asked. “She’s gonna grow up thinking she’s adopted and that we’re still unsure if we wanna keep her.”
    “Huh?” Noah replied.
    “Because you keep calling her ‘orphan!’” Erica explained.
    I giggled. Then hiccupped. Noah took notice.
    “Drinking on the job, you two?” he asked.
    “I had one, honey,” Erica replied.
    “And how many did you have?” Noah asked me.
    I held up two fingers. He sighed.
    “Let me go hide everything with sharp edges,” he said.
    “No! That phase is over,” I said. “Soooo over.”
    The first two months after Brian broke off our engagement were really tough. I didn’t try to hurt myself, but my depression was so bad that my friends thought I might. They treated me like I was crazy—and perhaps, in a way, I was—because I didn’t feel like me. I acted weirder than I normally do. I don’t know how I managed to perform my job at any kind of satisfactory level. I don’t remember feeding myself. I’m sure I was a terrible friend. The whole time period is a haze to me still.
    Six months. It’s been six months since the break-up. Six months since my dad invited me fishing with him and fed me as much alcohol as I wanted. Naturally, I got drunk and cried all over his neck and shirt. Six months since Erica told me I was brave. Don’t know what she meant by that. Experiencing a break-up doesn’t make you brave. Six months since my mother asked me what I did wrong.
    “ You okay?” Erica asked, interrupting my thoughts.
    I nodded. I wasn’t interested in discussing Brian or my OCD anymore. They were always the same conversations that led to no real understanding—why I do the things I do, why I drive away all the men I date, why I feel like a failure. No one wants a sad friend, and I didn’t want to be that girl. So I persevered, slapped a smile on my face, tried my hardest to exude