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before she flew out to visit her parents. They were as bad as mine in wondering when their little girl would walk down the aisle with the parent-approved man. Julie’s first marriage was a wild weekend in Vegas. Never trust a preacher that dresses like Elvis and sounds like Lady Gaga.
    The speeches we had to endure from our parents.
    No pressure, daughter, but we’re not getting any younger, and we’d like to see grandchildren before we’re co-dependent on adult diapers and fiber tablets to help us poop.
    Julie’s parents never let her live it down on her poor choice in her first marriage.
    Love: the four-letter word of doom.
    It hurt just to think of what Julie went through with that cheating jerk wad. All because her parents believed that divorce was just as bad as kissing Satan.
    I leaned against the dryer and gla nced over Matt’s phone, opening it up to read the display. He’d been looking at something while he played the ski n flute . I flipped it shut, reddening. Would I be one of those snooping ninnies who scoured through someone’s phone to see what he or she had on it? I was better than that, right? Okay, no, I wasn’t, and I opened it back up to find the incriminating photos. I scrolled through them, first seeing Matt with another woman cheek to cheek. Old by the buzz-cut Matt sported. I preferred his longer locks. I sorted through picture after picture of Matt with a bunch of guys. In most of them, Matt’s red eyes screamed drunk. He had a half-lidded stupid grin plastered on his face. The last picture, however, puzzled me. I couldn’t tell if it was someone’s butt crack or boobs honestly. Whoever it was had a big old red stain on the white fabric. I figured it had to be one of his drunken butt buddies from the previous pictures. I don’t even want to guess what made then stain. Ew.
    Being the self-absorbed woman I’m turning into, I decided to add my phone number into his phone. If I couldn’t have him, maybe I’d use him to fend off some unwanted affections from the slobbering Boobmen from Mars.
    What was I doing? Playing another round of try to fuck the gay man straight? Just as I went to retrieve it and take it out, an insistent pounding came at the door followed by Julie’s shouts.
    “Let me the hell in. It’s freaking freezing out here.”
    I tossed Matt’s phone on the counter as I made my way to let her royal princess in.
    Friends, dinner, and a discussion on the latest fuck me book. Such was the life of a single girl.

Chapter Eight
     
    “Oh my GOD!” I said through the door. “I can’t let you in. You’re a serial lesbian rapist, come to make me do naughty things with a banana and whipped cream!”
    “Just for that I’m going to start calling you Peppermint Patti when we become hot girl on girl action.” Julie huffed. I opened the door with a smirk. She barged past me with a large bag of food in one hand and her copy of Winter’s Kiss in the other. Mine was conveniently mashed in the cushions of my couch. I should have known Julie wouldn’t forget the reading part of the festivities.
    “I must confess I haven’t started the book yet, Julie. Every time I pick it up, I remember how these damn virgins are getting more action than me.”
    I pinched Julie’s butt as she passed me on the way into the kitchen.
    “Hey. When did you get a new phone?” She held up Matt’s phone, and I snatched it away.
    “It’s not mine, it’s Matt’s. He dropped it in the laundry room.” I shoved it into my pocket. Julie’s resistance to snoop was far lower than mine. My fingers perused my wine rack to complement the meal. “He’s stopping by later to get it.” I passed my wine choice to Julie.
    “So anything happen that I should know about?” Julie held the bottle near her mouth, simulating fellatio.
    “Yeah, right.” I snorted. “It’s getting so bad, I’m thinking about hitting Black Room.”
    “Oh, Patricia.”
    “Over it, Julie. I have plenty of work to occupy my dirty