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She stroked his hair. “Meeting the author of Brad the Dragon is going to be great,” she began.
“I know. He’s going to be funny and nice and make everyone laugh.”
Nicole wanted that to be true. But weren’t authors authors for a reason? There was no way she could spend all day alone, staring at a keyboard, typing. She needed to be doing something and around people.
Of course, she probably had a ridiculous view of writers. Eric wrote screenplays, and while he did spend a fair amount of time alone at the computer, he was also out surfing most mornings. He took meetings, went to parties, did screenwriterly things, she wasn’t sure what. Maybe Jairus was the same way—working fifteen minutes on a picture book, then using the rest of the day to count his money.
She sighed. She really needed to work on her attitude. She was going to be meeting the man in a few days. She didn’t want to shriek at him in the first three seconds. Better for that to happen in the second hour.
The thought of yelling at the money-grubbing jerk made her smile. Tyler smiled back.
“You’re excited, too,” he said.
“I am.” A white lie was allowed because she was a mom, she told herself.
“You won’t forget?”
“Nope. I’m teaching at the senior center that morning but my afternoon is all Brad the Dragon, all the time. Just me and you-know-who.”
As she spoke, she tickled Tyler’s sides. He squirmed and laughed, then lay down. “One more time,” he pleaded, pointing at the book. “I’ll try not to think. I promise.”
“Only for you,” she murmured.
She picked up the book and turned to the first page. “Brad the Dragon had always been interested in flowers.”
She read automatically, not having to pay attention to the dragonly antics. She knew the story by heart, along with each and every other one of them. The never-ending thrill of B the D was that he evolved. Thank God the series ended when Brad turned ten. There was no way she wanted to read about a teenage B the D getting his stupid driver’s license.
Nicole finished the book, then kissed Tyler good-night. His eyes were closed and his voice slow as he whispered, “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, big guy.”
She walked out, careful to leave the door just a little open. So he wouldn’t feel cut off from her. Or maybe she was the one who needed the connection.
Back in the kitchen, she finished cleaning up the dinner dishes. Normally she did them after they were done eating but Tyler had been so wired they’d gone for a long walk instead. As she rinsed pans and put them in the dishwasher, she thought about how much she was dreading the upcoming author event at the city park camp Tyler attended.
Maybe she was being unfair. There was the tiniest chance he wasn’t totally awful. After all, she loved the Fancy Nancy books and they basically had the same trajectory as B the D. They started as picture books and moved to chapter books. She knew. She read them to Gabby’s twins when she looked after the girls.
But Fancy Nancy was different, she thought, hearing the whine in her head. She was lovely and sweet and there was always a lesson to be learned. Not to mention vocabulary words. Brad the Dragon was just so...annoying.
She finished with the kitchen and started the dishwasher, then wandered into her living room. The house—a Spanish-style beauty she’d managed to buy for a rock-bottom price just before the mortgage bubble—was a testament to craftsmanship. There were arches and thick walls, lots of windows and a beautiful yard out back. She loved her house. Loved that Tyler was growing up here. If sometimes she got a little lonely for male companionship, well, that was okay. She’d been blessed in the rest of her life.
Her phone chirped, telling her she had a text. A quick glance at the clock told her it was after nine. She thought instantly of Hayley and her frail condition, then hurried to read the screen. Even as she told herself that if something bad had happened, she would get a call not a text, she couldn’t catch her breath until she’d read—
“Damn him.”
She read the message three times before tossing her phone on the sofa. “Lying, selfish bastard.”
Nicole picked up her phone, ready to give Eric a piece of her mind. Then she read the words again.
Can’t make tomorrow. Sorry. Next time for sure.
Sadness mingled with her fury. Because in the morning, she was going to have to tell her son that his father wouldn’t be coming to see him. There would be no outing with Eric, no time for Tyler to see his dad.
The real killer was, Tyler wouldn’t mind. He would shrug and go back to whatever it was he’d been doing. Because Eric canceled more often than not and Tyler cared less and less about seeing the man.
The disconnection had started long before the divorce, Nicole thought, somewhere around the time when Eric had begun writing his screenplay. He’d pulled back from his family—spending his time surfing, writing or going to classes and his critique group. Then after he sold the screenplay, he’d been busy with revisions and a new project. She and Tyler had become less and less important.
She’d thought she would have to fight him for custody, but Eric hadn’t wanted more than one Sunday, every other week. That was it. And he blew off those days more and more.
She reached for her phone but instead of texting her ex, she sent a message to Hayley.
The bastard blew off his kid again. Is it wrong that I hate him?
Hayley’s response came in seconds. No, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll hate him for you. Doing okay?
I’ll get through it. Thanks.
Nicole sank onto the sofa, drew her legs to her chest, and rested her head on her knees. If it wasn’t for her friends, she wasn’t sure how she would have survived the past year. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She and Eric were supposed to have been a family. That was what she’d always wanted, always hoped for. She hadn’t known her own father. He’d left his family before she was born. With Eric, back when he was a software engineer, she thought she’d found someone good. Someone stable. Someone who would be there for their children.
She’d been wrong. About all of it. Some of that was on her, but some of it was purely him. He didn’t care about his son. That was the bottom line.
She kept hoping he would change. That he would realize what he was missing. But so far there was no hint that he was having second thoughts about their custody arrangements. And Tyler no longer talked about missing his dad.
She had a sinking feeling that by the time Eric woke up to what he’d missed, it would be too late. That Tyler would be unreachable. But even worse was the very good chance that Eric would never care. Never ask for a second chance. That this was as good as it got.
She looked up at the Brad the Dragon stuffed animal sitting on a bookshelf by the TV. The creature was a happy shade of red, with big blue eyes. She glared at the dragon.
“This is all your fault,” she whispered. And while she knew it wasn’t, sometimes it felt really good to have someone to blame.
* * *
“Why does Boomer smell like corn chips?” Kennedy asked from her place on the floor next to the dog.
“I have no idea.”
Gabby thought about pointing out that it was better than how most dogs smelled, but knew better than to encourage smell talk. It would lead to an entire discussion on farts, burps and other things that were hilarious, but often led to awkward moments around other people. She was still recovering from the classic, “That lady farted” event from three weeks ago at the grocery store. She’d been embarrassed, the older woman had been embarrassed and the twins had thought the situation was the funniest thing ever. They told nearly everyone they saw. Which was why she did her level best to not take them to the grocery store any more than necessary.
She held up a pink T-shirt. “One of my favorites,” she said.
Kenzie, who was combing an incredibly patient Jasmine, nodded. “Me, too.”
Kennedy didn’t bother answering. While she was normally the twin in charge, when it came to clothes, Kenzie was the spokestwin. Gabby wasn’t sure how they made up their rules but she mostly went along with them.
“And we are done,” she said, staring at the five outfits, times two, chosen for the upcoming week.
In an effort to create order from chaos, when the girls had started preschool, she’d made it a point to choose their outfits in advance. Now it was something they did together every Sunday afternoon. It helped with the morning craziness and was a fun time for the three of them to have girl talk.
The twins abandoned their pets to put their outfits away in a special drawer in each of their dressers. When they were done, they looked at her expectantly.
“Daddy’s next,” Gabby said brightly.
Kenzie leaned over and picked up Jasmine. The cat submitted to being half carried, half dragged to the master closet. Boomer followed on his own, then flopped down in the doorway. Kennedy immediately draped across him, while Kenzie sat in the middle of the floor, prepared to offer fashion advice. Jasmine settled next to her and proceeded to lick her fur back into order.
Gabby picked up the sheet of paper Andrew always left for her on Friday evenings. It was his schedule for the upcoming week. His assistant emailed her his travel schedule every time a trip was added or changed, but Andrew took care of making sure she knew where he was all the time. It was something he’d started when they were first married. She remembered following him through the apartment they’d shared while they were waiting to close on the house.
“When will you be back?” she’d asked, knowing she sounded petulant. “It’s hard when you’re not here.”
He’d turned to her, his blue eyes dark with concern. “Are you worried about being alone in the apartment? Do you want me to get an alarm installed?”
“No, silly. I just miss you.”
He’d stared at her for a long time. She’d watched confusion change to understanding, relief and love. He’d hugged her so tightly, she hadn’t been able to breathe. But that was okay. Andrew was more important than air.
The next morning she’d received her first email from his assistant. The following Friday, Andrew had brought home his schedule for the upcoming week. Because that was the kind of man Andrew was. He didn’t want her to worry. He didn’t want her to be concerned about anything.
From the night they’d met until their wedding had been nearly a year. He’d told her about his first marriage and what he thought had gone wrong. She would have sworn she knew everything about him. But until that night in their small apartment, she hadn’t really understood what he’d been saying.
Candace hadn’t cared. She hadn’t bothered to keep track of his travel schedule or asked when he would be home. She’d rarely made time for Makayla. Her work was her one true passion. Gabby could understand loving a career, but not at the expense of people.
Now she looked at his schedule and saw the various meetings he had.
“Daddy’s going to be home all week,” she told the twins.
“Yay!”
“Can we make him brownies?” Kenzie asked.
Gabby thought about her inability to fit into her dress the previous Friday. Since then she’d been thinking she had to do something. “Um, sure.”
She could ignore the brownies, she told herself. Just because they were in the house didn’t mean she had to eat them.
She sorted through Andrew’s suits and shirts. Even with the pile of shirts to go to the dry cleaner’s on Monday, there were still plenty to choose from. She held up a gray suit with a pale blue shirt.
“Which tie?”
Only Kenzie considered the question. “The one with the blue and pink stripes.”
Gabby found it. She hung the suit, shirt and tie and moved on to the next selection.
While Andrew was perfectly capable of picking out his own clothes, she liked doing this for him. It was a connection, a way to quietly say she was thinking about him and that she cared. Like him leaving her his schedule.
When they were done, she led her posse back to the kitchen. She didn’t need her wardrobe laid out and Makayla wasn’t back yet from her mom’s. Even if she had been home, she’d made it clear she didn’t want or need the help. She was fifteen, after all.
Gabby briefly wondered if she’d been difficult at that age and figured she probably had been. It came with the territory. But knowing that didn’t make her any more eager for Makayla’s return. Sunday nights after Candace weekends were always difficult. The visits rarely went well and Makayla usually came home both hurt and angry. She needed someone to pay for what she’d been through and that person was usually Gabby.
She’d tried talking to Andrew about the temper, the snide comments, the door slamming. But Makayla was always careful to act out when her father wasn’t around and if Andrew had a weakness it was his daughters. Not just Makayla but all three of them.
A trait she admired, Gabby reminded herself. So she would take the high ground. Or at least try. It was the only advice her own mother had given her when Gabby had been getting ready to marry Andrew.
“Being the second wife is hard. I’ve watched several of my friends go through it. Think before you speak and take the moral high ground whenever you can. It will make things easier.”
Gabby had appreciated the advice and the love behind it, so she’d listened. She tried to keep her Makayla-based whining to a minimum and be as patient as possible. She wasn’t perfect, but she did her best.
The dryer buzzed. She left the twins coloring at the kitchen table while she carried a load of clean clothes to the master. Although it wasn’t her day for whites, she’d wanted to have the special crop pants done when Makayla returned. She wasn’t sure if the gesture would be seen as caring or taunting, but she knew her motives were pure and told herself that would be enough.
Andrew strolled into the bedroom and crossed the carpet to help her. He picked up impossibly small socks and smiled at her.
“Remember when they were even smaller?” he asked.
“I know. They’re growing so fast. I can’t believe they’re starting kindergarten.”
“How many days?”
She smiled. He wasn’t asking about the start of school. Instead he was inquiring about her start date.
“Fifty-four days.”
“You excited?”
“Yes, and nervous. What if I don’t remember how to hold down a job?”
“You will. You work hard and you’re brilliant. They’re lucky to have you.”
She would be working for a nonprofit, part-time. The job wasn’t anything spectacular, nor was the pay, but it was in her chosen legal field of immigration and she would be helping people who didn’t have anywhere else to go. Plus there was the whole pee alone thing.
“I’m lucky they’re willing to take a chance on me.” She’d been out of the workforce for just over five years. That was a long time. Although she’d taken a few online classes to keep current on changes in immigration law, she’d been worried about anyone wanting to hire her.
“You’ll be amazing,” he assured her, setting down another pair of socks, then reaching into his jeans front pocket. “I have something for you.”
He handed her a Nordstrom gift card.
She took it, then looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll need new clothes for work. Everything you have from before the twins is five years old. I want you to feel good on your first day back.”
A sweet gesture, she thought, even as her mind replayed his words. Fear joined horror. Her work clothes were five years old. They were pre-twins, which meant there was no way any of them fit. The being out of style part was the least of it.
She turned the gift card over in her hands. “We have a charge card at the store.”
“I know, but this is different. You can buy anything you like without me seeing the bill. You know I don’t care what you spend, but you always want to justify every purchase. This is guilt-free shopping.”
She stared into his blue eyes and felt a rush of love. “Andrew, you’re very good to me.”
“I want to be. I love you, Gabby.” He took the card from her and slid it into her shorts back pocket, then rested his hands on her hips. “So, how much time do you think we have until we’re invaded?” he asked, his mouth lowering to hers.
He kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue against her bottom lip. She felt his passion, which ignited her own. Their evening together on Friday had been all about slow, sensual lovemaking, but Andrew was fairly spectacular at the “we have three minutes” quickie.
“It depends on when Makayla gets home,” she said, already eyeing their bedroom door. “The girls are coloring. Five minutes, maybe ten.”
He was already unbuttoning her shorts. “Think you can come in three?”
Andrew turning her on had never been a problem. Even before she felt the first brush of his fingers against her clit. The familiar combination of heat and ache had her wrapping her arms around his neck. He eased her toward the bed and leaned over her, rubbing his erection against her thigh.
“Mommy, Mommy, Makayla’s home!”
Kennedy’s high-pitched voice cut through the house more effectively than a fire alarm. Andrew swore softly before withdrawing his hand and helping her to her feet.
“Tonight,” he promised.
She shivered in anticipation. “I can’t wait.”
He grinned. “Want me to stall the girls while you take care of things yourself?”
His suggestion made her blush. She swatted his arm. “You know I don’t do that. I’d rather wait and make love with you.”
“Not always.”
Because sometimes she did touch herself, but only when he was there. Only when he was watching. She couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone else. But Andrew always made her feel safe. Wanted.
They started for the living room. “I’m thinking of taking classes with Nicole,” she said.
“Like knitting or something?”
Which was just like a man. “No. At her studio. An exercise class.”
His look of genuine confusion made her want to hug him for about a thousand years.
“I’ve put on a little weight.”
“Really? I don’t think so, but if you want to take the class, have a good time.”
There were implications. If she couldn’t find a class when the twins were at camp, she would need to make sure Makayla could watch them. Or hire a sitter. The latter meant an added expense but Andrew was okay with that.
The twins were dancing around Makayla, competing with each other to tell her what she’d missed over the weekend. Boomer joined in, wanting to be petted by the returning member of the pack. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen but later she would settle herself on Makayla’s bed and stay there for the night.
Gabby watched her stepdaughter, taking in the straight set of her mouth and the way she seemed to be forcing herself to interact with her sisters. Only time would tell how bad this week’s reentry would be, Gabby thought. She called out a greeting to the teen, then walked back to the bedroom to finish folding clothes.
When she’d first met Andrew, he’d only had Makayla on weekends. Then, just before she and Andrew had married, Candace had asked for a change in the parenting plan—giving him equal custody. A few years after that, Candace had again asked for a change, this time giving Andrew full custody with Makayla visiting her mom every other weekend.
Gabby had known there wasn’t a choice. That while Andrew asked her if it was okay, the truth was, she couldn’t say no. Of course he wanted his daughter around more. The fact that he was at work and traveling, leaving her to deal with the teen, was immaterial. With Candace basically rejecting her only child, it was up to them to make the girl feel welcome. Gabby did her best, although sometimes it was hard.
She wanted to love her stepdaughter and was pretty sure she did. But liking her was more of a challenge. She wrestled with the expected emotions, like anger and resentment. But sometimes there was jealousy, too. Jealousy that Andrew had done the husband/father thing before. That no matter how she tried, she would never be first. There had always been another wife, another child before her and the twins.
She sorted the folded laundry by owner, then dropped it off in each bedroom. She paused in front of Makayla’s open door, braced herself for the lingering effects of the weekend visit, then offered a cheerful, “Knock, knock.”
Makayla was sitting on her bed, her unopened suitcase on the floor beside her. She looked up when Gabby entered.
“I know it’s late for these,” she said, placing the white crop pants on the dresser, “but I felt bad you didn’t have them to take with you. If you tell me you need something, I’ll try to get it washed.”
Makayla’s head was bent so her hair mostly covered her face. “Sure,” she mumbled.
“I could teach you to do laundry yourself.”
“No, thanks.”
Gabby wanted to stomp her foot. The teen was plenty old enough to be washing her own clothes. All the books she’d read on teenagers said it was important that they be given clearly defined chores. But Andrew wasn’t a fan of that. He wanted Makayla to, as he put it, “Have time to be a kid and not always have to deal with crap around the house.” Then he told Gabby to hire a housekeeper so she wouldn’t think the situation was unfair.
She already had a service every other week to take care of the deep cleaning and even that made her feel guilty. But once she was back to work, they would be a necessity. At least that was what she told herself. And having a housekeeper wasn’t the point. Makayla needed to be a contributing member of the household. Watching the twins when she was in the mood and setting the table wasn’t enough.
Everyone had their flaws, she reminded herself. Andrew was a great husband and father and she could live with his unrealistic expectations of what it meant to be a teenager.
“Everything go okay with your mom?” she asked, then braced herself for the response. Because while Makayla didn’t like to talk about her weekends, she complained when no one mentioned them.
“It was fine. I want to have friends over this week. After camp.”
Andrew walked in and sat next to his daughter. He pulled her against him. “Friends? Do I know these friends? Are they in a rock band? Because you know how I feel about rock bands.”
That earned him a slight chuckle. As Makayla leaned against her dad, her hair fell away from her face and Gabby could see she’d been crying.
Her low-grade annoyance at Makayla’s easy life here gave way to anger directed at Candace. Why couldn’t Makayla’s mother care just a little? Would it kill her to be nice to her only kid?
“Just let me know what day,” Gabby said. “I’ll make sure the twins have plenty to do.” Because there was nothing the five-year-olds liked more than hanging out with their big sister and her friends.
“Thanks. Maybe Wednesday. We have to decide.”
“How many? I’ll bake cookies.” She’d learned that no matter how surly the teenager, he or she could be bribed with cookies out of the oven.
“Three or four. Brittany, Jena and Boyd for sure.”
Gabby’s radar clicked on. “Boyd’s been hanging out here a lot.”
Boyd was an unassuming sixteen-year-old. Never in a million years would she think he was capable of anything. But she’d seen the movie Juno enough times to know looks could be deceiving.
Andrew looked up and chuckled. “Gabby, it’s fine. Makayla’s only fifteen. She’s not into Boyd that way, are you, honey?”
Makayla rolled her eyes. “We’re all friends, Gabby. It’s not like that.”
“Humor me on this,” Gabby said lightly. “When Boyd is here, you all stay downstairs in the family room. I’ll keep the twins in their playroom.”
Andrew surprised her by nodding. “Good practice for when you bring home the football captain.” He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Jocks love pretty girls who are secretly smart. I should probably take up karate so I can take them on if they get out of hand.”