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The Friends We Keep
Susan Mallery


#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR‘Warm, witty and romantic. The perfect feel-good read’ – Sarah Morgan on You Say It FirstGabby is more than ready to return to work after her stint as a stay at home mum. But when her plans are derailed, she must find the strength to fight for a life of her own.Hayley is desperate to become a mother. With the costs of fertility treatments mounting up and the strain on her marriage beginning to show, she must ask herself if it is worth risking everything to fulfil her dream.Nicole is ready to move on after her divorce. But when the perfect man appears in her life can she trust herself to recognise true love?As their bonds of friendship deepen, Gabby, Hayley and Nicole will have to rely on each other to navigate life’s toughest challenges.Praise for Susan Mallery:‘Susan Mallery never disappoints…. She is at her storytelling best.’ -Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author‘Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!’ Susan Elizabeth Phillips‘Mallery returns to Mischief Bay with another set of friends dealing with dramatic yet relatable turmoil, which she treats with compassion, discernment, and subtlety’ Kirkus Reviews on The Friends We Keep‘An engaging read to be savoured all the way through.’ Publishers Weekly on The Friends We Keep‘ highly original and fascinating page-turner you may lose sleep over. Mallery brings our inner lives to the surface and evokes deep emotions from her readers. You will fall in love with the girls of Mischief Bay.’ -RT Book Reviews on The Friends We Keep‘Mallery, a best-selling romance writer, can write a believable love story. But what makes this story remarkable is how strong and relatable the friendship between the characters is. This is a welcome return to Mischief Bay.’ -Booklist  on The Friends We Keep‘Once again, Susan Mallery has created an inviting world that envelops her readers' senses and sensibilities… Fans of Jodi Picoult, Debbie Macomber, and Elin Hilderbrand will assuredly fall for The Girls of Mischief Bay.’ -Bookreporter‘Fresh and engaging…the writing is strong, the dialogue genuine and believable. There's a generational subtext that mirrors reality and the complexities of adult relationships…filled with promise of a new serial that's worth following.’ -Fort Worth Star-Telegram on The Girls of Mischief BayPerfect for fans of Debbie Macomber, and Jennifer Joyce, the second instalment of Susan Mallery’s Mischief Bay series will move you to laughter, tears, and an appreciation of the enduring power of friendship.







In this insightful and compelling story from book club favorite Susan Mallery, three close friends test the boundaries of how much a woman can give before she has nothing left

After five years as a stay-at-home mom, Gabby Schaefer can’t wait to return to work. Oh, to use the bathroom in peace! No twins clamoring at the door, no husband barging in, no stepdaughter throwing a tantrum. But when her plans are derailed by some shocking news and her husband’s crushing expectations, Gabby must fight for the right to have a life of her own.

Getting pregnant is easy for Hayley Batchelor. Staying pregnant is the hard part. Her husband is worried about the expensive fertility treatments and frantic about the threat to her health. But to Hayley, a woman who was born to be a mom should risk everything to fulfill her destiny—no matter how high the cost.

Nicole Lord is still shell-shocked by a divorce that wasn’t as painful as it should’ve been. Other than the son they share, her ex-husband left barely a ripple in her life. A great new guy tempts her to believe maybe the second time’s the charm…but how can she trust herself to recognize true love?

As their bonds of friendship deepen against the beautiful backdrop of Mischief Bay, Gabby, Hayley and Nicole will rely on good food, good wine and especially each other to navigate life’s toughest changes.


The Friends We Keep

Susan Mallery







THE FRIENDS WE KEEP

© 2016 Susan Mallery

Published in Great Britain 2016

by HQ Digital, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher..

HQ Digital is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

ISBN: 978-1-474-04939-9

Version: 2018-01-17


To Marla—May we always be the friends we keep. xoxo


Contents

Cover (#u766f8c02-97af-51e6-87c9-73beafb785da)

Back Cover Text (#u79354c56-9ad7-5500-9fa5-610a8aa3639b)

Title Page (#ub0300127-5154-5f78-ae18-3e199aee8c76)

Copyright (#u2650f888-24a9-5557-b6a0-42c8c084d8ea)

Dedication (#u7951095f-393c-5d77-a38c-1972aaa8a494)

Chapter One (#ulink_7f5cf7e2-36cd-54d8-a75a-6ebcf46e0abb)

Chapter Two (#ulink_7935167e-d8fa-5e8d-b905-2de4a512f3f4)

Chapter Three (#ulink_004c6eaa-f67c-5e48-a65a-0368456aa1be)

Chapter Four (#ulink_bb4eede0-fdc9-5a68-860f-fd56f5560188)

Chapter Five (#ulink_e8d362f2-ce19-5a0c-af6f-ef2a27fee25d)

Chapter Six (#ulink_fc2767bb-b3e0-5bba-9cf6-06346fc8e698)

Chapter Seven (#ulink_6240c826-38ca-59ad-a837-5d8a387269f9)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Reader’s Guide (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Book Club Menu Suggestion (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_40ca9eab-2fad-58fe-8033-f2e67c6b4709)

Was it wrong to want to pee alone? Gabriella Schaefer considered the question for maybe the four hundredth time in the past couple of months. In truth, she loved everything about her life. Her husband, her five-year-old twin daughters, her pets, her house. All of it was an amazing gift. She got that. She’d been blessed. But every now and then...okay, at least once a day, she desperately wanted to be able to go to the bathroom, like a normal person. To sit down and pee. Undisturbed.

Not with someone pushing open the door to complain that she was hungry or that Kenzie had taken her doll. Not with Andrew wandering in, a pair of socks in each hand, to ask her which one was the better choice. Not with a pink-toed cat paw stretching under the door or a basset hound moaning softly on the other side, begging to be let in. Alone. Oh, to be alone for those thirty or forty seconds. To actually be able to finish and flush and wash her hands by herself.

Gabby signaled as she got into the left lane, then slowed to wait for her turn. Fifty-seven days, she reminded herself. She had fifty-seven days until the twins started kindergarten and she went back to work. Sure, it was only going to be part-time, but still. It would be magical. And what she would never share with anyone was that she was most excited about being able to pee by herself.

“What’s so funny?” Kenzie asked from the backseat. “Why are you smiling?”

“Are you telling a joke?” Kennedy asked. “Can I know?”

Because at their age, they were all about the questions, Gabby thought, keeping her gaze firmly on the road. When there was a break in the oncoming traffic, she turned into the parking lot and drove toward the end of the strip mall. There were still a couple of spots directly in front of Supper’s in the Bag. She pulled into one and turned off her SUV’s engine.

“I’m thinking funny thoughts,” she told her girls. “I don’t have any jokes.”

Kennedy wrinkled her nose. “Okay.”

Her voice was laced with disappointment. Both girls knew that what grown-ups thought was funny and what was really funny were usually two different things.

Gabby grabbed her handbag—a small cross-body with an extra-long strap—and got out of the car. She walked to the rear driver’s-side door and opened it.

“Ready?” she asked.

Both girls nodded. They were already undoing the safety straps on their car seats.

Getting them out of their seats was never the problem. Getting them into them was another matter. Despite the fact that the seats were rated for kids up to sixty pounds, both girls wanted booster seats rather than their car seats. Car seats were for babies, she’d been informed several times already. The fact that car seats were safer didn’t seem to be making an impact on the discussion.

She and Andrew were going to have to figure out a better strategy, she thought as she helped Kennedy jump to the ground. Kenzie followed. Gabby couldn’t keep having the same fight every day. Plus the arguments were taking longer and she was having to build an extra five or ten minutes into her routine just to get to appointments on time.

The problem was both girls took after their father, she thought humorously. He was a highly skilled sales executive with the gift of verbal charm. Even at five, the twins were starting to try to talk themselves out of being in trouble.

“Is Tyler going to be here?” Kennedy asked.

Gabby brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes. Her blond bangs needed trimming. Again. “He is.”

The girls cheered. Tyler, her friend Nicole’s son, was six and soon to be in the first grade. In the eyes of two girls who were excited and a little nervous about kindergarten, Tyler was very much a man of the world. He knew things and they both adored him.

Gabby reached past the troublemaking car seats for the empty tote bags that came with her membership. The bright green bags were covered with the Supper’s in the Bag logo. Every two weeks she joined a couple of her friends for a three-hour session at Supper’s in the Bag and when she left, she would have six meals for her family. Meals that could be thrown in the oven or grilled on the barbecue. They were seasoned, portioned and ready to be prepared.

The premise of Supper’s in the Bag was simple. Each session took about three hours. In the large, industrial kitchen-like space were eight stations, each dedicated to a different entrée. By following the clearly marked instructions, you portioned meat, added spices and vegetables into recyclable containers, basically doing whatever was needed to get the meal ready for cooking.

At first Gabby had felt guilty about signing up for the service. She was a stay-at-home mom. Surely she could get her act together enough to cook for her family. And yet, she thought, handing the empty bags to her daughters and then guiding them to the store. The days slipped away from her. Fortunately for her, the owner of Supper’s in the Bag was the sister of a close friend. Telling herself that she was supporting a local business helped with the guilt.

Because Andrew was one of the good guys, he encouraged her to use the service. They went out to dinner at least once a week, so with the six meals she prepped here, that meant she only had to come up with six meals on her own.

The store was big and open, with the kitchen stations set up on the perimeter of the room. Industrial racks filled with pantry items stood in the center area. There was a cash register by the door and shelves for purses and the bags they all brought. The counters were stainless steel, as were the sinks.

To the left was a small seating area where clients could linger and talk, if they wanted. To the right was a small partitioned area that had been painted bright colors and set up with kid-sized tables and chairs. There were a few toys, lots of boxes of crayons and plenty of coloring books. Cecelia, the resident sitter, was already there. The petite, curly-haired college student grinned when she saw the twins.

“I was hoping you two would be by today,” she said, waving at them. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Cece!”

The twins dropped their tote bags and ran to greet the teen. There were hugs all around.

“Is Tyler coming?” Kenzie asked anxiously.

“He is. I’m sure he and his mom are running late.” Cecelia guided the girls toward a table. “Let’s start on a picture, while your mom gets going on her meals,” she said.

Gabby used the distraction to head for the aprons by the check-in area. She picked up her sheet, telling her which stations she would be using, and in what order.

Supper’s in the Bag wasn’t a unique idea. There were several businesses like it around the country. While Gabby had never been a fan of Morgan, the woman who owned the place, she had to give her kudos for wringing every dollar out of her clients.

Children were welcome for the price of five dollars per child per hour. For Gabby, that meant an extra thirty bucks, but it beat having to find a sitter herself. There were wine selections offered with each entrée, available for an extra charge. Gabby guessed the mark-up was a restaurant quality 100 percent. After-prep wine and appetizers were available, again for a cost.

Morgan’s sister, Gabby’s friend Hayley, came in early several days a week to prep the food. She did much of the dicing and slicing, the opening of spice bottles and tomato cans. Gabby happened to know that Hayley worked in exchange for meals.

While Hayley said she was getting the better end of the deal, Gabby had her doubts. No matter the situation, Morgan always seemed to come out ahead. Gabby doubted the arrangement with Hayley was any different.

Several more women walked into the store. Each session could handle thirty-two customers, although the daytime sessions generally had more like twenty-five. Supper’s in the Bag was also open Thursday through Sunday evenings, from four until eight-thirty. She spotted Hayley, Nicole and Nicole’s son Tyler. Nicole dropped her son off with Cecelia and they all met by the hand-washing sink.

“Hi,” Gabby said as she hugged her friends.

Nicole was tall, blonde and enviably willowy. Gabby wasn’t sure how much of her fit body was genetic and how much of it came from the fact that she taught exercise classes for a living. Gabby kept promising herself she was going to sign up for one. She was still carrying around an extra twenty-five pounds from her pregnancy, but given that the twins were starting kindergarten, she needed to either do something about the extra weight or stop blaming her daughters.

Hayley was also thin but in a way that made Gabby worry. As usual, her friend was pale with dark circles under her eyes, but for once she seemed filled with energy.

“I’m excited about the meals tonight,” Hayley said. “The veggies were extra fresh and I think the new enchilada recipe is going to be a winner.”

“You seem happy,” Gabby said as she put on a green Supper’s in the Bag apron. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much.”

Gabby wondered if that was true. Hayley’s life was a physical and emotional roller coaster as she tried desperately to carry a pregnancy to term. Her last miscarriage had only been a few months before and she was taking a break—on doctor’s orders.

Nicole pulled her long hair back into a ponytail. “You sure?” she asked. “You’re very bouncy.”

Hayley laughed. “I don’t think that’s a flattering description.”

The three friends stopped at their first station. Directions were written on laminated cards. The ingredients for layering the casserole were stored in bowls and bags. Spices were clearly labeled.

Each of them took a foil pan. “I can’t believe it’s already the middle of July,” Nicole said as she layered corn tortillas on the bottom of the pan. “I was hoping to take Tyler away for a few days, but I don’t see that happening. Between work and taking care of him, I’m constantly running.”

“You own a business,” Gabby said, ignoring yet another stab of guilt. She should own a business, she thought. Or be going back to work more than twenty hours a week. And cooking all her dinners from scratch. Honestly, she had no idea where her day went. The twins were in a summer program from eight until one every day. Makayla, her fifteen-year-old stepdaughter, was in a different camp that went from eight until four. Surely she could get her errands run, laundry finished, meals prepped and cooked, and do something to help the world. But it didn’t seem to happen.

“There’s always Disneyland,” Hayley offered as she scooped chunks of chicken into her casserole. Rather than using a single nine-by-thirteen pan, Hayley used two eight-by-eights. Which doubled her number of meals. Of course it was just her and Rob.

“Tyler loves Disneyland,” Nicole said. “It just seems like cheating.”

“Be grateful it’s close,” Gabby told her.

The massive amusement park was only about thirty miles away from Mischief Bay. Less than an hour by car, if the traffic gods were on your side.

Gabby put her arm around Nicole. “It could be worse. There could be Brad the Dragon Land. Then you’d be totally screwed.”

Nicole grinned. “I’d be tempted to set it on fire.”

Hayley and Gabby laughed.

Brad the Dragon was a popular children’s book series. Many young boys, Tyler included, loved B the D, as he was known by intimates. For reasons Gabby had never understood, Nicole disliked the character and had a serious loathing for the author. She claimed that she’d read an article once that said Jairus Sterenberg was only in it for the money, that he was evil and most likely responsible for any coming zombie apocalypse headed their way. Gabby was less sure about those claims. Of course there were plenty of parents who were desperately tired of all things Frozen or Minion.

“Was Hawaii amazing?” Nicole asked.

Gabby nodded as she remembered the ten days she, Andrew and the twins had spent in a condo on Maui last month. It had just been the four of them. Makayla had stayed with her mother.

“It was gorgeous! Beautiful weather and plenty to do. The girls had a fantastic time.”

“How did Makayla do at her mom’s while you were gone?” Hayley asked.

Gabby sighed. “Okay. Her mom doesn’t love having her around more than a weekend at a time, so that makes things difficult. I don’t get it. Makayla’s fifteen. Sure, she can be a bit mouthy, but she’s her kid. You’re supposed to love your kid.”

“She’s back with you?” Nicole asked.

“Her mom dropped her off the first night we were home.”

“Too bad you couldn’t take her with you,” Hayley said.

“Uh-huh,” Gabby murmured neutrally, sprinkling cheese on her finished casserole before securing the plastic lid. Because while she probably should have wished Makayla could have gone with them, in truth she’d been grateful for the break from her stepdaughter.

Their first meal finished, they took their pans over to the wall of refrigerators and placed their entrées on their assigned shelves, then moved on to the next station. Hayley began pulling down spice bottles while Gabby and Nicole scanned the directions.

“Stew is interesting,” Nicole said, her tone doubtful. “The Crock-Pot information is good.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Gabby murmured, her voice low.

“It’s summer. I don’t want to have to use the Crock-Pot in the summer.” Nicole shook her head. “A classic first-world problem, right? But Tyler loves stew, which means a dinner that’s easy and he’ll eat. I’m in.”

“Excellent attitude,” Gabby told her, with a wink. “You get a gold star today.”

“I live for gold stars.”

Hayley pointed to the spice jars she’d lined up. “This is going to be delicious,” she promised. “You’ll love it. And the next station is all about grilling over fire.”

“You are in a happy mood,” Nicole said. “What’s up? Your boss give you a raise?”

“No, and that’s okay.” Hayley opened one of the gallon plastic bags and began measuring the spices. “Gabby mentioned my mood, too. Am I usually crabby all the time?”

“Not at all,” Gabby said quickly, not sure how to explain that for once, Hayley seemed happy and relaxed. If she hadn’t known the other woman was on hiatus from trying to conceive, she would have wondered if her friend was expecting. Before she could figure out if she should ask anyway, Hayley picked up the bottle of red wine on the table, measured out a half cup and poured it into her bag.

Nope, Gabby told herself. Not pregnant. But there was something.

They worked through the rest of the stations, then loaded their meals into their totes. Gabby packed up the car before going back to get her girls.

“You ready?” she asked.

Kenzie and Kennedy looked at each other before nodding at her.

“They were great,” Cecelia told her.

“We were very good,” Kenzie added.

“I’m sure you were.”

The twins were at that age where they were angelic with everyone but her. She’d read dozens of books on child rearing and from what the experts said, the need to be more independent battled with the need for Mom. So while everyone else got smiles and good behavior, she got push-back and tears.

She waited while her girls hugged Cecelia goodbye. They were growing fast, she thought with contentment. They were bright, inquisitive and loving. Given how right everything was in her life, she could deal with a little push-back now and then.

They left the child-care area and headed toward the front door. Today they’d chosen matching clothes. Blue shorts and blue-and-white T-shirts with little kittens on them. They’d lost that toddler chubbiness and were now looking like little girls.

They were fraternal twins, but so close in appearance that most people thought they were identical. They both had big hazel eyes and strawberry blond hair. They sounded alike and were both energetic.

But there were also differences. The shape of their chins. Kennedy had thicker, slightly curlier hair. Kenzie was a bit taller. School was going to be interesting, Gabby mused. Kennedy was more outgoing, but Kenzie had a level of patience her sister didn’t. She wasn’t sure which characteristics would mean success.

They reached her SUV and she opened the rear door on the driver’s side.

“In you go.”

The girls didn’t budge.

“We want booster seats,” Kennedy said firmly. “Car seats are for babies. Mommy, we’re starting kindergarten.”

“That means we’re not babies anymore,” Kenzie added.

Gabby didn’t know which kid at their summer camp had said something about booster seats versus car seats, but she really wished he or she hadn’t.

She thought about the bottles of wine waiting back inside Supper’s in the Bag. She could give the girls back to Cecelia, have a couple of glasses and then phone Andrew to drive them all home. She could bang her head against the side of the SUV until that pain was bigger than the argument. Or she could suck it up, remind herself that she was blessed and lucky and every other good thing, and simply deal.

Despite the fact that the wine scenario was really appealing, she went with the latter.

“You are growing,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “And I love you very much. That’s why I want to keep you safe. Please get in your seats so we can go home and get dinner ready for your dad.”

The twins stayed stubbornly in place.

Gabby held in a sigh. Where was the win in this fight? She wasn’t going to be blackmailed by five-year-olds. “Boomer and Jasmine are waiting for their dinners, too. I want to go home. Please get in your car seats now.”

“We won’t.” Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest. Kenzie followed, because Kenzie always followed.

“For every minute we wait here, you will lose fifteen minutes of your television time,” she told the girls. Kind of a big deal because TV was limited in the Schaefer household.

The twins glanced at each other, then back at her. Kenzie leaned over to her sister.

“Fifteen minutes is a long time.”

Kennedy sighed heavily, then got in the SUV. Kenzie did the same. Gabby vowed that later she would talk to her husband and they would brainstorm a solution. Or at the very least have a glass of wine and remind themselves that in ten years, when the twins wanted to start dating, they would look back on the car-seat fights and tell themselves these were the good old days.


Chapter Two (#ulink_96947f02-e8d6-563d-a871-28b52382ea96)

“I heard the news,” Cecelia said as she tidied the crayons scattered across the kid-sized table.

Nicole Lord held in a heavy sigh and faked a big smile. “Of course you did. Isn’t it fantastic? We’re all superexcited.”

Cecelia stepped closer and lowered her voice. “It’s okay. Tyler’s over there.”

Nicole glanced at her son who was across the room, playing with Hayley, then back at the nineteen-year-old babysitter. “Can you believe it? I can’t. Of all the luck. Or lack of luck. Tyler’s thrilled. He’s counting the days. If his math was good enough, he’d be counting the minutes.”

“And you?” Cecelia asked.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I’m counting the minutes, too, but for different reasons.”

“You’re not going to attack him or anything, are you? I’d hate to read about you being arrested.”

The question, meant to be funny, offered a visual that Nicole found tempting. Not being arrested. Despite the guilty pleasure of the show Orange Is the New Black, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t do well in jail. Or prison. Either, really. But attacking Jairus Sterenberg was a different matter. She wouldn’t mind smacking him really hard. Or maybe just giving him a piece of her mind. The angry, annoyed part.

“I will not attack him, I promise. Tyler loves his Brad the Dragon books and I would never hurt my son.”

“What if he didn’t find out?” Cecelia teased. She held up one hand. “I’ll stop now. It’s just, you really hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” Nicole said, hoping it was true. “How can I hate someone I’ve never met? It’s just...” She shook her head. “That whole empire of his. The article I read on him a while back said he was a pretty awful person, making money off of kids. Which means he’s little more than a weasel rat bastard who would merchandise air if he could figure out a way.”

Brad the Dragon had started life in picture books and was now also in chapter books. And the merchandising! There were stuffed animals and clothes and sheets and games. The man was wallowing in money, she thought bitterly. All at the expense of kids and parents everywhere.

Worse, so much worse, she’d just discovered he lived in the area. And in what some people would mistakenly claim was a generous offer, he’d held a contest through the parks’ summer programs. The same summer programs where Tyler spent his days.

Kids were invited to write a paper explaining why they loved B the D. The winning camper and his or her class got a personal visit from Jairus himself, along with an autographed book.

Tyler had been thrilled to find out about the contest and had spent two weeks perfecting his entry. Nicole would know—she’d helped him every step of the way. They’d come up with a B the D story line where Brad met Tyler. They had even included pictures.

“I know you don’t think he’s a bad guy,” Nicole said. “But come on. Kids having to write a paper before they can meet the guy? Couldn’t he just show up at the camp like a regular person? But noooo.”

Cecelia laughed. “You have so much energy about that poor man.”

“Trust me, he’s far from poor.”

“Still, what if he’s not evil?”

“Then I’ll feel really, really bad about trashing him.”

“Think that’s likely?” Cecelia asked.

Nicole grinned. “Not a chance.”

She confirmed the upcoming week’s schedule with Cecelia, then went to collect Tyler. She had to admit, if only to herself, that her loathing of B the D’s creator was a recent thing. That in her heart of hearts, she understood that she just might be projecting her feelings onto a man she’d never met.

Nearly two years ago, her then-husband had quit his job to write a screenplay. Something he hadn’t discussed with her or even mentioned until two days after the fact. There’d been no negotiation, no warning. Eric had simply up and quit, leaving her to support their household while he spent his days surfing to “clear his head” before he began writing.

It was right about that time when Nicole had started to find Brad the Dragon and all his merchandise the tiniest bit annoying. What was it about writers? Did they all have to be self-centered jerks? Or was it just the successful ones? Because Eric had gone on to sell his screenplay for the unbelievable amount of one million dollars. And then he’d left her.

“Ready to go?” she asked Tyler.

He stood with his thin arms wrapped around Hayley’s waist as he leaned against her. Hayley hugged him back. The two of them had always been close. Hayley was a kid person down to her bones.

“See you next time,” he told Hayley.

“I can’t wait,” the other woman said. “Have fun meeting Jairus.”

Tyler grinned so broadly, Nicole knew his face had to hurt. “It’s only five more days.”

“Do you know how long that is in minutes?” Hayley asked, then slapped her hand over her mouth as Tyler turned to Nicole.

“Mommy?”

“I’m sorry,” Hayley whispered. “I just made it worse, huh?”

“We’ll survive.”

Tyler rushed over and danced in front of her. “We can know how many minutes?”

“Sure. We can do the math when we get home. We’ll need a calculator.”

Hayley winced. “Now I’m making you do math.”

Nicole hugged her friend. “I love you, even when you make me do math. But when I regrout my bathroom tile, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“It’s a deal.”

Nicole straightened. For a second she studied Hayley. As always, her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she were in the middle of fighting some awful illness. Nicole knew the truth was slightly less desperate, but still painful. Hayley was recovering from yet another miscarriage.

Nicole took Tyler’s hand and led him out of the store. As she helped him into his booster seat, he chattered on about B the D and the upcoming visit by the prolific author.

Maybe it wasn’t Jairus’s fault, she told herself as she closed the rear passenger door. Maybe he was really a very nice man who loved children. She doubted it, but hoped she was wrong. Because she would hate for Tyler’s heart to be broken by meeting a flawed hero.

On the bright side, she’d volunteered to be there for the visit. So if Jairus turned out to be a complete ass, she would do everything she could to protect Tyler and the other kids. At the very least, she could accidentally trip the man. And call him names. Possibly beat him with a stuffed B the D doll.

That image made her smile. Perspective, she reminded herself. So much of life was all about perspective.

* * *

“‘And we’re learning how to trust. And we’re finally starting to live.’”

Hayley Batchelor tapped her fingers against her steering wheel as she sang along with the radio. The new Destiny Mills song had her swaying in her seat. When the light turned green, she drove through the intersection, and made a right.

At six-thirty on a Thursday night there was plenty of traffic—neighbors pulled into driveways, kids were out playing in front yards. The speed limit was only twenty-five, but no one went faster than that. It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood.

Hayley saw that the house on the corner now had a second story. For months it had been in disarray. It had been interesting to watch the demolition followed by the reconstruction. Once finished, the house would be stunning. Most of the neighborhood was going through a similar process—updating, sprucing. Hayley knew there was a term for it—gentrification, maybe.

She turned at the next corner and drove down her street. Here there were more signs of the revitalization. She liked the fresh paint, the new front doors. But when she pulled into her driveway, she wrinkled her nose. Talk about shabby, she thought as she stared at the overgrown yard and peeling paint around the windows. The pale gray stucco was still in good shape, but the house looked like what it was—a place that had been neglected for a while.

She knew all the reasons why and they made sense, but things had changed. It was time for their house to reflect those changes.

She collected her Supper’s in the Bag totes and made her way to the front door and went inside.

The house was small—just fifteen hundred square feet. When it was first built, the home had been only twelve hundred square feet, but the previous owners had added a master suite, complete with a small bathroom and walk-in closet. That brought them up to three bedrooms and two baths. The lot was a decent size and the location—just four blocks to the ocean—was prime.

The hardwood floors in the living room were original, as was the fireplace. Not that they ever used it much. Los Angeles wasn’t known for cold winters. But it was pretty and every now and then the temperature dipped enough to warrant burning a log or two.

Hayley stepped into the kitchen and put away the dinners. Two went into the refrigerator while the rest were stacked in the freezer. When she was done, she turned on the oven and pulled out what she would need to make a salad. She folded the bags and stored them in the small laundry room, then turned back to look at the kitchen with what she hoped was a critical eye.

The layout was good. The counters—fifties tile done in two-tone green—weren’t exactly contemporary, but they kind of suited the house. There was a lot of natural light and plenty of storage space. The cabinets were solid wood and beautiful, though they could use a good refinishing, along with updated hardware. She ran her hands across one and wondered what it would take to redo them. Was it something she and Rob could handle on their own?

The floor was a sad linoleum, but replacing it would be too expensive. The sink was on the newer side and when their old stove had died, they’d replaced it with a nicer model.

If they left the tile and focused on the cabinets... That would make a difference. Some fresh paint would make a big impact, too.

She wandered down the short hallway that led to the main bath and two bedrooms. She and Rob argued about the bathroom a lot. It, too, was original to the house, with two-toned blue tile and a huge tub. He wanted to gut it and put in something modern. She liked the character of what they had.

The secondary bedrooms were easy. Paint would improve them a lot and maybe some inexpensive window treatments. The back bedroom, the smaller of the two, was a home office. The other one, well, she didn’t go into that room. She knew what it looked like. Pale yellow walls and gleaming hardwood floors. A rocking chair sat in the corner. Otherwise the space was empty.

The master addition was on the other side of the house. Again, paint and maybe new bedding would make it look just fine. The house had good bones, was in a great neighborhood. They just needed to give it a little more TLC.

She heard the front door open and footsteps in the living room.

“I’m home,” Rob called.

Hayley went out to greet him. “Hi. I just got in myself. We’re having enchilada casserole for dinner.”

Rob was about five-ten, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He wore glasses and had an easy smile. He was the kind of guy people instinctively trusted and Hayley had liked him from the first moment they’d met.

Now she stepped into his embrace and hugged him. He kissed her cheek.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Good. Busy. I went to Supper’s in the Bag.”

“I figured. You know I love those enchiladas.”

“I do.”

His gaze settled on her face. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel great. Strong.”

His expression was doubtful, but he smiled. “Good. It’s a nice evening. We could eat outside.”

Because while the rest of Los Angeles sweltered in the mid-July heat, Mischief Bay had the natural air-conditioning brought on by an onshore breeze.

“Great idea.”

They walked into the kitchen together. While Rob washed his hands, she put the casserole in the oven before setting the small timer in the corner. He got two beers from the refrigerator and two tall glasses from one of the cupboards. He poured and handed her a glass. They went outside to the shade of their east-facing backyard. Chairs dotted the brick patio.

Hayley sat in her usual spot, her feet up on an ottoman. Rob sat across from her.

“How about you?” she asked. “Good day?”

He nodded. “Nothing blew up.”

“There’s a plus.”

It was a comfortable joke, she thought. Six months ago Rob had taken the job of assistant manager of service at the local Mischief Bay BMW dealer. On his first day of work, there had been an explosion in one of the service bays. Something about compression and heat. No one had been hurt and no cars had been damaged but it had made for an exciting start.

The job had been a big step up for him—both career and money-wise. The hours were long, but he didn’t have to travel and she liked having him around. He had good benefits, also a big plus. Eventually there would even be paid vacation but that was a few months away. Still, it would be good for when she had a baby. He had a second job, helping a friend restore old cars on the weekend. Easy work for a guy who loved cars.

“You’re sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.

His tone was light, but she heard the worry behind the words. She also knew the reason. She could see herself in the mirror and knew that she looked like someone who had been through medical tough times. The price she had to pay, she thought grimly. That she would keep paying, no matter what. Because the dream was too important.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. She lightly nudged his thigh with her foot. “You worry.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I’ve been thinking.”

He paused with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Am I going to like what you’ve been thinking about?”

“You are. When I was driving home tonight, I was looking at the neighborhood. We have the ugliest house on the block and we shouldn’t. This place is adorable. But with everything going on, we haven’t had time to fix it up. I’d like us to talk about making changes.”

Rob leaned toward her. “Yeah? That’s great. I agree. We’re an eyesore. I keep expecting the neighbors to start a petition. I have a lot of ideas.”

Which didn’t surprise her at all. She and Rob had always thought alike.

“The outside is an easy fix,” she said. “It just needs time.”

Rob looked doubtful. “Hayley, honey, you can’t do anything strenuous. One of the guys at work has a brother in the landscaping businesses. We can get the yard cleaned up cheap in a couple of days, then you and I can get some new plants. That part we could do ourselves.”

She hated the idea of wasting money on yard cleanup, but he had a point. She was still pretty weak and he worked two jobs. “I don’t want to spend too much,” she began.

“I agree. I’ll tell Ray to have his brother drive by and give us an estimate. We’ll just do the front.”

“Okay.” Their backyard wasn’t too bad. There was the patio and a few trees. The rest was lawn. If she started watering it more regularly, it would green up quickly.

“What did you think for the inside?” he asked. “We should remodel the kitchen.”

She did her best not to flinch. “How about we start with paint,” she said. “Maybe some new window coverings.”

She thought he might push back, but he surprised her by nodding. “You’re right. A kitchen redo is too much right now.”

Guilt flashed through her. Rob was worried about her being overwhelmed. Because he always worried. They’d been through so much and he’d been beside her every step of the way. Their repeated attempts to get pregnant had left her body weak and their bank account depleted. They were emotionally exhausted by the roller-coaster ride they’d been on.

But her reasons for not wanting to do the kitchen were different than his. Some would say selfish. She would tell them they couldn’t possibly understand what she was going through. What it was like to be denied the only thing she’d ever wanted.

She had a plan, she reminded herself. There was still hope. No way she was going to give up.

“The hardware store has the sale section in the back,” she said. “After dinner let’s go by and see if they have any paint we like. We only need a couple of gallons for the office and the master. I was thinking we’d do the kitchen, too.”

Rob frowned. “You mean those leftover paint cans no one wanted?”

“They’re not leftover, they’re mistakes. When people try to color match or don’t like what they bought. You can get a gallon of paint for like five dollars.”

“I know it makes you happy to hear every penny squeak, but I’m pretty sure we can spring for a paint color we like, even if that means paying full price.”

He was teasing. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his gentle smile. She forced herself to stay relaxed, to accept the comment in the spirit he meant it. To not shriek that they needed every possible dollar they could save. That babies cost money and in her case, getting pregnant costs even more.

But they’d fought enough about that. About everything. She was going to need Rob on her side to get through the next few months. They had to be a team. By this time next year, everything would be different. They would have a family. She was sure of it. Because this time, she knew there was going to be a miracle.


Chapter Three (#ulink_cadff20b-418b-5b20-9815-767cd32248a4)

“Mommy, can Boomer and Jasmine get married?” Kennedy asked from her car seat on Friday afternoon.

“No, they can’t.”

“Because they don’t like each other?” Kenzie asked.

“They like each other fine,” Gabby said as she pulled up and joined the line of cars waiting to pick up teens from the twelve-to-fifteen-year-olds’ summer camp. It was, of course, on the other side of the park, with the same start time as the one the twins attended. She sometimes wondered what the city planners were thinking when they decided schedules, start and finishing times, not to mention which streets went temporarily one way in the morning and evening. She wanted to believe they were doing what they thought was best to keep traffic flowing. That no one was secretly watching the mess everything became, giggling as mothers with kids in two different age groups scrambled to essentially be in two places at once.

“They can’t get married because Boomer is a dog and Jasmine is a cat and we don’t have pet marriages.”

“But what if they love each other?” Kenzie’s voice was dreamy as she asked the question. At five, “loving each other” was the ending to nearly every fairy tale. Well, and “they lived happily ever after,” which was practically the same thing.

Gabby briefly thought that if she were a better mother she would find more self-actualized stories to read her daughters. Stories where women ran corporations or started businesses or became doctors rather than were princesses who got engaged because they were beautiful and vapid.

A problem for another day, she told herself, then groaned as she glanced at the clock on the dashboard of her SUV.

She was five minutes late because the twins had refused to buckle up when she’d collected them. Those stupid car seats, again. They loomed larger every day.

She inched forward, one in a long line of cars, and reminded herself that she only had to get through the next hour or so before she could relax. She would get the kids their dinner, then go upstairs into the master and take a long bath while Andrew—

“Sugar!”

It was as close to a swearword as she allowed herself these days. Because there was no bath in her near future. She’d forgotten she and Andrew had an event that night. Something work-related, maybe. Or maybe political. She couldn’t remember. Double sugar. Were her black pants back from the dry cleaner?

The car behind her honked. Gabby realized she’d let precious space open up between her and the car in front. She eased forward, trying to figure out what she was going to wear, all the while listening to Kenzie and Kennedy discuss what Jasmine would wear if she and Boomer could get married. It wasn’t the dress that stumped them so much as the wedding bouquet. How would a cat carry it down the aisle?

Gabby looked at the few kids still standing on the edge of the park and spotted Makayla. Her stepdaughter was tall with impossibly long legs. Her naturally blond hair hung halfway down her back. She wore a loose, flowy sleeveless shirt over shorts. She was pretty and still a little gangly, but in a couple of years she was going to have that easy beauty women everywhere envied.

Makayla looked a lot like her stunning mother. Around both of them, Gabby felt short and bottom-heavy, neither of which was Makayla’s fault.

Gabby pulled up to the curb and watched the teen approach. Her stomach tensed as she tried to judge her mood. It was Friday on a visitation weekend, which meant things could go either way.

“Hi,” Gabby said brightly as Makayla opened the passenger front door.

“Hi.” Makayla slid onto the seat and fastened the belt before turning toward the twins. “Hey, munchkins.”

“Makayla!” Both girls greeted her happily.

“We think Boomer and Jasmine should get married,” Kennedy added. “In a white dress.”

“Huh. I don’t think Boomer would look good in a white dress, do you?”

The twins laughed. Gabby smiled, imagining their basset hound draped in white tulle.

“Not Boomer,” Kenzie corrected. “Jasmine.”

“Oh, that’s different.”

The knot in Gabby’s stomach loosened. Makayla was okay. There wouldn’t be shouting or door slamming this week. No sullen silences. She would get herself ready to visit her mother and then she would be gone for forty-eight hours. Odds were Sunday night would be awful—it usually was—but that was for then.

The highs and lows that came with being a fifteen-year-old were amplified by Makayla’s relationship with her mother. It was erratic at best. Sometimes Candace wanted to be all in and other times she saw her daughter as little more than an inconvenience. Sadly, she didn’t mind sharing that factoid with Makayla.

Gabby tried to understand that the resulting fits of rage and depression weren’t about her. Makayla needed to blame someone and Gabby was a safe target. When things got tough, there was always chocolate, and the knowledge that whatever else was going on, Makayla loved her half sisters.

Gabby drove through Friday-afternoon traffic. The three blocks on Pacific Coast Highway took nearly fifteen minutes, but once they made it into their neighborhood, the number of cars lessened.

Gabby had grown up not five blocks from here. She and her siblings had gone to the same elementary school as Kenzie and Kennedy. She’d attended the same high school as Makayla. She knew where the kids liked to hang out, the exact amount of time it took to walk home and the quickest way to get from their house to the beach.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have moved here from somewhere else. To discover Mischief Bay as an adult. For her there was only complete familiarity.

She pulled into their driveway. Makayla got out of the SUV, then opened the back door to help the twins. Gabby went to unlock the front door. She could already hear Boomer baying his greeting and scratching to get out. The only thing preventing him from going through the door was the metal plate Andrew had screwed into place.

As soon as she opened the door, Boomer raced past her to get to his girls. Because while Boomer loved his whole pack, Makayla and the twins were his girls. He followed them around, did his best to keep them in line and when they disobeyed his list of rules, he ratted on them.

Now he ran in circles, looping around all three kids, baying his pleasure at seeing them again, as if it had been weeks instead of a few hours. Gabby thought about pointing out that she’d been home much of the afternoon, but doubted that information would impress Boomer.

Makayla and the twins stopped to pet him before heading toward the house. Once they were moving, Boomer wiggled his way to the front and darted through the open door. The girls followed. Gabby made sure that Jasmine hadn’t bolted for freedom, then stepped into the foyer and pushed the door closed behind her.

It was nearly four. By her calculations she had less than two hours to get the twins settled in for the evening, dinner started, the pets fed and herself turned from frumpy mom to glamorous, charming wife to successful Andrew Schaefer. It was going to be a push.

She went directly to the kitchen and dropped her handbag on the built-in desk that was her catchall for crap. Next she looked at the calendar posted on the wall, the one with all their activities color coded by person. Makayla’s mom was picking her up at six, Gabby and Andrew were due to leave at six-fifteen and Cecelia, their go-to sitter, was due at five forty-five.

“Mommy, can I wear my purple hat to dinner tonight?” Kenzie asked as she ran into the kitchen. “Kennedy wants to wear her green one. I like my purple one better. It has feathers and lace.”

“Did you pick up my dark-wash jeans from the dry cleaner?” Makayla asked as she, too, entered the kitchen. “I’m going to need them for this weekend. Mom’s taking me to the movies and out to dinner and you know that means we’ll be going somewhere nice.”

“I did. They’re in your room.”

Which you would know if you’d bothered to go look. But she didn’t say that. Nor did she mention she thought it was ridiculous that a fifteen-year-old was allowed to send her jeans to the dry cleaner. Couldn’t she wash them with the rest of her clothes? But Makayla had deemed it critical and Andrew had agreed. Gabby felt that if she was going to have to die on some hill when it came to her stepdaughter, it wasn’t going to be the one about dry cleaning.

Makayla sat on one of the stools by the island. “Mom said she’s going to take me to her stylist and get my hair cut. Maybe I’ll get bangs. There’s enough time to grow them out before school starts. You know, if I don’t like them.”

As she spoke, she stretched her long arms out across the granite countertop. Her hands were laced together as she stretched. Kenzie watched closely and Gabby knew that in the morning, she would see the same pose at breakfast. Because there was nothing the twins liked more than to imitate their older sister.

“We might do some school shopping. She can get me in to see all the fall clothes that aren’t out yet. We went through the look books already and I chose some things.”

Candace was a buyer for an upscale department store and had access to a lot of things, including styles and brands not yet available for sale to the public. Gabby told herself it was nice that Makayla got to feel special with her mom. That was how it was supposed to be. Most of time she nearly believed herself, as well.

Makayla raised one shoulder dramatically. “It’s because I have an eye for trends.”

“You do.”

Makayla eyed Gabby’s baggy, knee-length shorts and oversize T-shirt, the blue one with a stain on the front and a small but growing hole near the hem.

“You want me to talk to Dad about giving you a make-over?”

“Thanks. Sweet, but no.”

She told herself that she didn’t have it so bad. Makayla was a pretty good kid. She had her moods, but most of those were either hormone or mother-induced. She loved her baby sisters and looked out for them.

What made things difficult was the nagging sense that Makayla wasn’t treated like a member of the family. Her place was more revered guest, with everyone circling around her illustrious orbit. Like the dry cleaning. Seriously? For jeans? Or that Makayla didn’t mind looking after the twins if Gabby needed her to. But only for an hour. Never for an afternoon or evening. And even the few minutes of watching was always a favor—never something Gabby could depend on. Giving Makayla orders wasn’t allowed.

Second-wife syndrome, Gabby told herself firmly. Every now and then she got a twinge from having to deal with Andrew’s past. The most he’d had to suffer through was an old boyfriend flirting with her at her ten-year high school reunion. And that was hardly the same thing.

“Mommy, I think Jasmine’s gonna throw up.”

Kennedy shouted the announcement from somewhere upstairs. Makayla and Kenzie took off running. Gabby paused long enough to grab a few paper towels. As she headed for the stairs she wondered if it was wrong to hope Boomer got there first and took care of things for her. The big guy could always been counted on to clean up messes.

By five o’clock, the household was in that delicate transition from chaos to calm. At least that was what Gabby told herself. Dinner was in the oven, Makayla was packing for her weekend and the twins were in their playroom, deciding on what to do that evening with Cecelia.

“Dress up,” Kennedy said firmly, a small green hat perched on her head. “And Legos.”

“Legos for sure,” Kenzie agreed. Her hat was all feathers and lace. They were both adorable. Stubborn, but adorable.

Gabby found evenings with the sitter went easier if everyone went in with the right expectations. To that end she always provided a plate of snacks for both her kids and the sitter. She also made sure that toys, books and movies were chosen in advance.

The toys were picked out and put on the small, five-year-old-sized table. Next to it were three books Cecelia would read to them at bedtime, along with several DVD choices. Jasmine, recovered from her fur-ball attack, strolled in. She walked over to Gabby and gave her delicate girlie meow—the one that indicated all was right in her feline world. Boomer followed, his nose pressed into the carpet as he searched for fallen crumbs and who knew what else.

The twins pulled their pets close. Gabby used the distraction to escape to her room. She still had to shower—because she hadn’t had time that morning—and do something with her hair.

For a while she’d been trying the blonde thing, but honestly, with three kids, it was too hard to get in for regular appointments. She was going to be starting back to work soon. If she didn’t have time now, she sure wouldn’t then. So she’d spent the past year or so easing the color toward her natural shade of sort-of-brown, sort-of-red. She was thinking of getting highlights to celebrate her return to the office, but only if her hairdresser promised her they wouldn’t need touching up more than once every six months.

She managed to get in the shower without being called or having to deal with a crisis. By the time she was out, the twins, Boomer and Jasmine had moved into the master bath where the four of them lay on the floor, watching her as she reached for her towel.

Kenzie and Kennedy each had one of Boomer’s ears in their tiny hands. They stroked his silky fur while leaning against him. Their dress-up hats were askew. Jasmine watched from the mat by the sink, as if in charge. Which was probably true. Jasmine did love to control situations.

“What are you going to wear, Mommy?” Kenzie asked. “You’ll be pretty.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure yet.”

“A dress,” Kennedy said firmly. “With high heels.”

Because the twins loved to wear high heels when they played dress up.

“And lipstick,” Kenzie added.

Gabby slipped on her underwear and bra, then walked into the big closet she shared with Andrew. While his side was organized according to the type of clothing, and then by color, hers was slightly more haphazard. A few things were piled on the floor, under the hanging racks. She wasn’t sure if they were there by design or if Jasmine had pulled them off, and this wasn’t the moment to find out.

Double racks and a built-in dresser should have helped with the organization but somehow that never happened. At least not for her. Andrew’s drawers were meticulously arranged. Socks sorted by color, exercise T-shirts separate from the T-shirts he wore under dress shirts. Why was that? She put away the laundry. So she was the one who maintained his organized ways while doing nothing to move herself beyond controlled chaos.

The whys weren’t important right now, she told herself as she dug through the single tall rack, searching for a reasonably clean, slightly dressy LBD. She found it in the back, next to a fuzzy pink robe she’d never liked.

The dress was long-sleeved, with a faux wrap bodice and knee-length skirt. She hadn’t worn it in a while but it looked clean enough. Except for pink fuzz from her robe, which would come off easily enough with masking-tape strips. The bigger issue was would it fit?

She knew she had a killer Spanx slip hanging somewhere, but before she suffered through the indignity of that she wanted to see if the dress was even a possibility. She undid the side zipper, then pulled it over her head.

The arms felt tight and the fabric bunched right above her boobs. She pulled and tugged and shimmied until it settled over her body. Even before she reached for the side zipper, she knew there was going to be problem.

The dress looked awful. It accentuated her round middle and the roll above her waistline. The fabric gapped a good four inches at the zipper and no amount of prayer was going to make it close. Not even the killer Spanx would be enough.

How much did she weigh? She hadn’t been on the scale in maybe a year. Sure, there were the extra few pounds since she’d had the girls, but this was unexpected. She hadn’t actually put on more weight, had she?

Even as she thought about the extra cookie she had after breakfast most days and the secret stash of Hershey’s Kisses in her nightstand, she told herself not to get off track. Andrew was due home any second. Cecelia would be arriving, Makayla was going to have a crisis before she headed to her mom’s and the twins could only be counted on to be quiet and entertain themselves in twenty-minute increments. That time was rapidly drawing to a close.

She pulled off the dress and flung it on the floor, then reached for her go-to black pants. They were stretched out at the waist and in need of replacing, but none of that mattered now. They fit.

She pulled them on, then searched for a top that was on the dressy end of professional. She found a black blazer that always worked, only there was a stain on the front. She jerked the hangers across the racks, trying to remember what she owned that wasn’t too small, too frayed or just plain ugly. Her throat tightened as panic set in. In her head she heard the frantic ticking of time going by too quickly melding with the horrifying realization that somewhere along the way, she’d gotten fat.

At the far end of the upper rack, she spotted a red sleeve. She pulled the shirt off the hanger and breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, the color wasn’t good, but the loose, silky shirt would fit her. The fabric was a little see-through and had an unfortunate gold weave running through it. She had no idea what had possessed her to buy it. Still, she was grateful to have something to wear.

She pulled on a plain black camisole, grabbed the red shirt and hurried back into the bathroom. The twins lay across Boomer. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. Not a surprise—the feline had excellent self-preservation instincts. She seemed to sense exactly when there was going to be a crisis of some kind and extricated herself before it could happen.

Makeup, Gabby thought frantically as she plugged in her hot rollers. Curl her hair, makeup, dinner prep, Makayla, Cecelia, feed the pets, talk to the twins and out the door. It was possible, she told herself. Unlikely, but possible.

She draped the red shirt over the side of the tub. Kennedy wrinkled her nose.

“Mommy, you said you were wearing a dress.”

“No, you said that. I like pants.”

“You’re still pretty,” Kenzie said loyally.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Daddy likes you in a dress.” Kennedy’s expression turned stubborn. “And high heels.”

“I’m going to wear high heels.” High-ish, Gabby thought, already feeling her toes whimper in protest.

“Gabby, where are my white crop pants?” Makayla asked from the doorway to the bathroom. “I put them in the wash this morning.”

Gabby reached for her comb. After sectioning her hair, she put in a hot roller. “I don’t do whites on Fridays. I do them on Monday and Thursday.”

“But you knew I need them for this weekend.” Makayla’s expression turned annoyed and the volume of her voice increased. Danger. “You didn’t wash them on purpose.”

The twins looked at each other. Identical mouths formed perfect O’s as they waited to see what would happen next.

Every Friday Makayla was seeing her mother, Gabby thought grimly, there was a crisis, a fight, a something. And it was always her fault. Sugar, sugar, sugar.

Gabby faced her stepdaughter. Once again she was momentarily distracted by how pretty she was and how Makayla would spend much of her adulthood defined by her beauty. Oh, to be so cursed, Gabby thought ruefully.

“Makayla, you know I do laundry on a schedule. I’ve done it on a schedule since you came to live with us two years ago. I do the whites on Monday and Thursday. If you have a special request, I’m happy to try to help, but you didn’t tell me about the pants. I had no way of knowing they were in the laundry.”

Tears filled the teen’s eyes. “You could have looked.”

The unreasonable statement made her chest tighten. Deep breath. “And you could have told me. I can’t read your mind. Is there something else you can take with you?”

“No, the weekend is ruined!”

“Why is that?”

The question came from the bedroom. Gabby felt the tightness around her chest ease just a little. The twins scrambled to their feet and raced toward the speaker, as did Boomer.

Shrieks of “Daddy! Daddy!” competed with barks and Makayla complaining about her lack of white crop pants.

Gabby turned back to the mirror. The odds of her getting close to Andrew in the next ten minutes were close to zero. The girls and Makayla always claimed his attention when he got home. Boomer needed his moment with the master of the house. Even Jasmine would stroll in for a quick chin scratch.

Gabby finished rolling her hair, then quickly applied her makeup. She had a five-minute routine that got her through most situations. She wasn’t sure who the fund-raiser was for or the crowd they might face, so she took a little extra time with her eye shadow and liner.

Ten minutes later she pulled out the rollers and finger-combed her hair, then applied hair spray. Earrings followed. She slipped on low pumps and hurried out of the bedroom.

She walked toward Makayla’s room. The teen was folding pink pants.

“You doing okay?” she asked, careful to sound cheerful rather than cautious.

Makayla nodded without looking at her.

“Okay, then. Come get me if you need anything.”

Gabby hurried to the kitchen where she checked on dinner. She wasn’t sure where the twins were, but she could hear laughter and Andrew’s low voice from somewhere in the back of the house.

Boomer and Jasmine came into the kitchen. The calico wound around her legs in what Gabby assumed was supposed to be affection. Or at least a claim on her attention.

“I’m very clear on the time,” she told her pets. “You’re next.”

She put Boomer’s food in a bowl and set it in the mudroom, then got out Jasmine’s dinner. Wet food with water mixed in, to keep Jasmine’s urinary tract healthy. Gabby added a small bowl of kibble on the side and carried both to the laundry room, because there was no way dogs and cats could eat together. Not if the cat was going to get any food.

Jasmine jumped up on her table and meowed until Gabby set down the dishes.

The pets fed, Gabby returned to the kitchen and set the table for three, all the while glancing at the clock. She pulled out the plate of raw vegetables she’d cut up earlier. Because while the twins wouldn’t touch a cooked vegetable, they would eat them raw.

Right on time, the doorbell rang. Boomer announced their visitor, in case he was the only one who heard the bell. The twins came running, yelling Cecelia’s name. Gabby let in the teen and smiled gratefully.

“Hi,” she said with a sigh. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Love it.”

Cecelia had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Gabby knew that once she got the twins settled, she would study. In addition to her part-time job at Supper’s in the Bag, Cecelia babysat and took classes in summer school. It was impressive.

Back in the kitchen for what felt like the forty-seventh time in the past ten minutes, Gabby explained about what had to be done for dinner. She went over the selected toys, books and movies for that evening and guessed as to when she and Andrew would be home.

“You have our cell numbers, right?” she asked.

“Programmed into my phone,” Cecelia told her. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a great time.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

She glanced at the clock. “Candace is going to be here any second,” she said. “I need to check on Makayla.”

The twins, Boomer and Jasmine followed her down the hall to where Makayla stood with her suitcase. Her expression was tense, her body stiff. She looked more like she was heading to the dentist than to her mom’s for the weekend.

For a second Gabby felt sympathy. Makayla didn’t have it easy. Candace was an indifferent mother at best and she was often late. More than once, she’d phoned at the last minute to say she couldn’t possibly take her daughter for the weekend. Sometimes it was a legitimate reason—like being out of town on business. But more often there was no explanation offered.

“Is she here?” Makayla asked anxiously.

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

“Not the white crop pants.”

Gabby knew she’d walked into that one and tried not to react. Kenzie slipped past her and stared up at Makayla.

“Do you have to go?”

The tension immediately eased as Makayla dropped to her knees and held out her arms. Kennedy came running and both girls hugged her tight.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Makayla promised.

“You could take us with you.” Kennedy poked her in the arm. “We’d be good. Promise.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Makayla said gently.

“Why not?” Kenzie asked.

“Because I would miss you too much!” Gabby said. “I’d be totally and completely sad without my girls here. It’s bad enough that Makayla’s gone. What would I do without my munchkins?”

The twins ran from their sister to her. She was pinned by thin arms hanging on so tight. She felt their love all the way to her heart. It filled it and made her world right.

In that moment she glanced at Makayla and saw fierce longing in the teen’s blue eyes. The raw emotion startled her. Before she could figure out what to say, it was gone.

“Makayla, your mom’s here.”

Andrew’s voice carried down the hall.

“Auntie Candace!” the twins screamed together as they turned and ran toward the living room. Makayla followed more slowly.

Gabby didn’t want to go at all, but knew that would be rude. Not that Candace would notice. Their brief exchanges were always awkward and overly polite. Conversation between two people who were sure they couldn’t possibly have anything in common. Ironic considering they had both fallen in love with the same man. Talk about sharing something intimate.

Gabby wasn’t sure what Candace thought of her, but she knew exactly what she thought of the other woman. Candace was tall, thin and beautiful. Worse, she was successful. She was the head buyer for designer shoes and handbags for an upscale department store.

She had fashion sense, a wardrobe to die for and absolutely no cellulite. Gabby was sure of it. She might be shorter than Candace, but next to her she always felt as if she were taking up too much room.

She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Andrew stood by the door, Jasmine in his arms. Boomer bounced around, his ears and jowls flapping as he tried to get Candace to notice him. The twins were talking and twirling, while Makayla stood beside her mother. And Candace, well, she was busy being tall and thin and beautiful. Not to mention perfectly dressed in a pair of narrow cream-colored slacks and a tailored shirt in the same shade.

White, Gabby thought in amazement, wondering how long it would take her to get a white shirt stained. Eight seconds? Nine? There was also her jewelry—fashionably layered necklaces and several rings. Even though she’d most likely put on her makeup nearly twelve hours before, it was still...perfect.

As Gabby made her way into the room, Candace looked her up and down, then smiled that mean girl smile of hers.

“Gabby. How delightful. Are you going out?”

“Yes.”

“Your hair looks lovely. Well, you’ll want to get changed, so I won’t keep you. Makayla, darling, are you ready?”

“Mommy already changed,” Kenzie said helpfully. “She’s in her going-out shirt.”

Candace’s right eyebrow rose. At least as much as the Botox would let it. “Oh. Well. You look...very nice.”

Heat burned on Gabby’s cheeks, but she didn’t let a little thing like embarrassment slow her down. She herded the twins back to the kitchen and helped Cecelia get them ready for dinner. When she heard the front door close, she exhaled slowly. One crisis down for the evening. Four hundred and thirty-seven to go.

She walked back to the living room and saw Andrew putting Jasmine on the sofa.

“At last,” he said, turning toward her. “Hi. How are you?”

He kissed her before she could reply. While the kiss was light, the hug that accompanied it was not. Andrew gave good hugs, full-bodied embraces that lingered an extra second. When the world was spinning, he was her anchor.

“I’m okay.”

He touched her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I marry such a bitch? I have no excuse. All I can say for myself is thank God I got it right the second time.”

He was good with words, too, she thought gratefully. And life. Andrew understood life. He was successful—the vice president of sales for a large aerospace firm. He traveled a lot, but not more than he had to. He made sure he was home for significant events and he never once made Gabby feel that his work was more important than hers.

Now she resisted the need to cling to him, to complain about Makayla and the white pants, to ask that he go beat up his ex for being mean to her. No, those were her issues and she would deal with them.

“My day was fine,” she told him. “What about yours?”

“Good. We hit our numbers for the quarter, so I’m golden.” He flashed her a grin. “Until Monday, then it all starts again.”

The familiar joke made her smile. Just looking at him made her smile, too. He was eight years older than her, but aging well. Dark hair and blue eyes. There was a touch of gray at his temples, which made him look even more appealing. It was the distinguished thing. Because Mother Nature clearly favored men.

“I don’t remember the name of the fund-raiser,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t put it on the calendar. Just the date and time.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. “I didn’t tell you the name.” He pulled her close and lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. “There is no fund-raiser, my sweet wife. I’ve rented a room at the Inn on the Pier. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling. I was hoping we could have our way with each other for a couple of hours, then order room service before coming back home.”

“I’d be willing to write a check to that cause,” she told him.

Andrew leaned back his head and laughed, then put his arm around her.

Tears burned. Happy tears, she told herself as she willed them away. The tears of a woman who had won the husband lottery.


Chapter Four (#ulink_90ce2503-bbc0-5989-a9f9-ab7b07f68582)

“Again!” Tyler said eagerly, not sounding the least bit tired, despite the fact that it was a good half hour past his bedtime and they’d had a full day. “Read it again.”

Nicole leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Are you thinking too much?” she asked her son.

He grinned at her. “I am. I’m excited, Mommy. It’s better than Christmas.”

If only that were true, Nicole thought, knowing there was no way to prepare a six-year-old for potential disappointment, yet aware she had to try.

They’d spent their Saturday together—something she was still getting used to. Divorce from Eric had been difficult on so many levels, but financial wasn’t one of them. He might not see his kid very often, but he always paid his child support on time. The checks had allowed her to hire a couple of extra instructors at her exercise studio, Mischief in Motion, which allowed her to cut down on her evening classes and the luxury of not working on Saturdays. In a few short years Tyler was going to be too busy with school activities and friends to want to hang out with his mom, but until then, she wanted to take advantage of every second they had together.

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.”

He made a slashing motion with his arm. Makayla got up. “Da-ad, stop. You’re not going to do karate on any of my boyfriends.”

“There’s an easy solution, kid. Never get a boyfriend. That way you won’t break your old man’s heart.”

Andrew rose and followed Gabby out of the room. In the hallway, she turned to him.

“I’m worried about Boyd.”

“Don’t be.” He put his arm around her. “I’ve seen the kid. He’s probably gay. Plus he’s too young.”

“They’re so not too young, but as long as they stay in the family room, we should be okay.”

“You worry too much.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know and I love you for it.”


Chapter Five (#ulink_f40fd908-3ccd-5f47-a496-08a0e94b1a08)

Nicole felt like the White Rabbit as she kept chanting, “I’m late, I’m late.” She didn’t add the “for a very important date” part, but she felt it. She could hear the tick, tick, ticking in her head as she circled the parking lot, looking for a spot.

The lot was packed. Had every family in Mischief Bay conspired to take advantage of the beautiful beach weather?

“Finally!”

She saw a spot at the very end and goosed the engine to claim it before someone else did. Then she jumped out of her SUV, grabbed her tote, slammed the door and hit the lock button on the key fob before dashing toward the park.

She wanted to say it wasn’t her fault. Her class at the senior center had gone long because she’d been having a good time. There was something so sweet and life-affirming about watching a bunch of seniors dancing together. Especially the couples who had been married sixty and seventy years. Their bones might be frail, but their love was strong. She’d gotten caught up in the lesson and watching them and had totally forgotten that she had to be at the park to collect Jairus Sterenberg and bring him to Tyler’s camp.

A psychologist would probably have a field day with her convenient memory lapse. He or she might point out that there was something very passive-aggressive about the whole situation and later, Nicole promised herself, she would have a good, long think about it. But until then, she was going to simply run as fast as she could, considering she was wearing three-inch heels and a purple tango dress with a very short skirt.

The irony of her running to meet the author of Brad the Dragon did not escape her. Nor was she unamused by the fact that she was the parent liaison. Yes, Tyler had begged, but she knew it was more than that. Life had a sense of humor. She was constantly reminded of that fact. Which meant she was frantically searching for a town car—God forbid the man actually drive himself—and the man who would step out of it.

She spotted the black vehicle pull up to the curb and hurried toward it. The back door opened and a guy got out. Nicole slowed to a walk, then came to a stop altogether.

She waited, knowing someone else had to get out of the car. The guy standing there couldn’t possibly be the evil, nefarious money counter she knew he must be.

He was of average height—maybe five-ten or five-eleven—with dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones and sculpted jaw. His skin was a light café-au-lait color. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but she had to admit she liked the look of him. Adding to the appeal were broad shoulders and narrow hips.

She blinked, not sure which surprised her more. The sexy package or the lack of black cape and horns.

No, she told herself. This was the manager. He’d come to explain why jerk-off couldn’t make it. He had to be.

She walked over. “Mr. Sterenberg? I’m Nicole and I’m—”

He looked at her, blinked twice, then held up his hands in the shape of a T. “Crap. No way. I can’t believe it. They sent you? Here? Now?”

WTF? Nicole’s warm, fuzzy, girlie feelings faded as quickly as they’d appeared. “Excuse me?”

“Look, this is really bad timing. I’m sure you’re terrific and all.” He glanced away, then returned his attention to her. He actually took a step back. “My friends are great. Assholes, but great. I can’t figure out if this is a joke or what but I’ll take it up with them later. But I have a thing I need to get to.”

He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I can pay you. You want the money, right? Or if they paid you already, I’ll tip you, but you have to go away.”

Words all spoken in English, yet they made absolutely no sense to her. Nada. What on earth was he—

“Oh my God, you think I’m a hooker?”

He stared at her, his eyes widening. Several twenties dangled from his fingers. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m the mom sent to escort you to the event back at the camp.”

His mouth moved, but no words came out. “Y-you can’t be. Look at how you’re dressed. This is not my fault. I saw a couple of my buddies over the weekend. I was bitching, ah, complaining about a long dry spell. They joked about fixing me up with someone. When I saw you—” He waved his hand up and down in front of her. “Look at how you’re dressed. This is not my fault.”

“You already said that.” Nicole raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I was substitute teaching dance at a senior center,” she told him, using the haughtiest tone she could muster. “Helping a friend who’s on vacation with her family. She likes to dress in a costume because it helps. Today was tango day.”

His gaze dropped to the fairly spectacular amount of cleavage she was showing. No way she was going to tell him that it was mostly fake. Her somewhat meager assets were being pushed up by the wardrobe equivalent of chicken cutlets.

“Costume?” The word came out as a yelp.

“Costume,” she repeated slowly. “Do you know how insulting this is? I have a six-year-old son who worships you.” She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. “Okay, not you but Brad the Dragon. He wrote and rewrote his essay. He didn’t play, barely ate. Because of your books. Do you know how many forms your stupid contest requires? I filled out every one of them. I took time off work to be here. I left senior citizens to be here and you think I’m a hooker?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Like I believe that. I knew you’d be a jerk, but I never expected...” She sucked in a breath. “Fine. Let me show you where you’re supposed to go.” If only it were hell, she thought grimly. She would love to show him that.

“And you’d better be nice to the kids. All of them. Especially mine.”

“You’re mad.”

She started walking toward the camp area of the park. “Wow. A rocket scientist. You’re wasting yourself on kids’ books.”

He kept up with her easily, but then he wasn’t wearing heels. “It was an honest mistake.”

“Prostitution is illegal. I’m not even dressed that sexy. It wasn’t honest. It was sick. What kind of a man assumes a woman is a hooker?” She swung around to face him. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. In a park. Did you think I was just going to blow you in your car?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think that part through. And, no, I don’t assume every woman is a hooker.”

“Just me?”

He winced. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. But you have to admit, you’re dressed provocatively.”

“No, I don’t.” She glared at him. “You’re saying I look like a slut?”

“I’m saying you’re all that.”

Under any other circumstances, she would have found him interesting. And maybe charming. But not like this. Not when he was that hideous author. She started walking again.

He slipped the money back in his wallet. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“You should be.”

“You really don’t like me.”

She barely glanced at him.

They went along the tree-lined path, toward the main camp building. Normally the kids were outside, but for this event, they were kept contained.

“Why did you assume I would be a jerk?” he asked.

“We are not having this conversation. I’m taking you where you need to go and nothing more. No. Wait. I’ll be taking pictures of you with Tyler and you will pretend this is the best time of your life.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is really important to him.”

“I got that.”

They reached the main camp building. She opened the side door before he could and stomped inside, then pointed. “Room five. Act happy. I’ve got mace in my bag.”

Jairus nodded once and reached for the door handle. He turned back to her, but she only continued to glower and point. When he went inside, she crept close and watched through the window.

The kids screamed loud enough to shake the building. She spotted Tyler standing in front of everyone, his eyes wide, his whole body shaking with excitement. Jairus approached him and said something she couldn’t hear. Tyler nodded. Jairus held out his hand. Tyler flung his arms around the man and Jairus hugged him back before glancing over his shoulder to where Nicole was watching.

“I got this,” he mouthed.

She turned away and hurried to the bathroom. Once there, she checked out her reflection even as she was peeling off layers.

Okay, so the makeup was a little heavy for the middle of the day. And yes, the dress was kind of tacky-sexy. But she’d been teaching tango.

“A hooker,” she muttered as she stepped out of her dress. She slipped on shorts and a T-shirt, then traded in heels for flip-flops. “Talk about a jerk. I knew it. I just knew it. That internet article about him was exactly right.”

Too bad he was so appealing. That was just wasted. God should have given Jairus more ugly. The man deserved it.

She had makeup wipes tucked in a side pocket of her tote. She used them to remove her tango-centric eye and face makeup. It only took a second to brush out her hair and secure it in a simple ponytail.

Now she looked like what she was. A mom. She supposed it was her own fault for being late. If she’d gotten to the park ten minutes earlier, this never would have happened. Not that Jairus wasn’t still going to have to pay.

She came out of the bathroom to find the party moving outside. The counselors had set up several tables with balloons and goody bags, along with a big cake. All part of the prize package. Not only were the kids being given a special afternoon with Jairus, they were taking home an advance copy of his next book. Oh, joy. She knew what she and Tyler would be reading before, during and after dinner. For weeks. Damn Jairus and his ridiculous creation.

Tyler ran up to her. “He’s here!”

“I know. I met him.”

“He’s nice and funny and he told me secrets about Brad.”

“No way.”

Tyler nodded earnestly.

She dropped to her knees and took her son’s hands in hers. “I’m so proud of you. You worked hard to make this happen. You and your friends are having a great day and it’s because of you.”

He hugged her. “This is the best day ever, Mommy. You helped, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who believed. I love you, big guy.”

“I love you, too.”

Tyler ran back to where Jairus was sitting on the grass talking to the kids and answering their endless questions about Brad and why things had turned out the way they had in his various stories. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying the kids. When it was time for the cake to be cut, he did that himself and served it to all the kids and counselors.

Nicole wanted to say it was because she’d frightened him, but she had a feeling his actions had nothing to do with her. He was too easy with the children. Too comfortable. He must do these parties a lot, she thought, wondering if they were part of his deal with his publisher, or if he chose to interact with his littlest fans.

The afternoon wore on. She kept to the fringes of the event, watching but not getting involved. This was Tyler’s moment. He reveled in the joy of being close to Jairus. The questions never let up, but the man took them in stride. Despite their disastrous meeting, Nicole had to admit Jairus was good at what he did.

Probably because he was so rested from counting all his money.

After about an hour, the goody bags were passed out. Jairus read the new book to everyone, then patiently signed every copy. Parents started arriving to pick up their kids. A few went over to meet him. He shook hands and posed for pictures.

One of the camp counselors walked over to join Nicole. “He’s so hot,” the twenty-year-old said with a sigh. “I tried to give him my number, but he wouldn’t take it.”

“You’re probably too wholesome,” Nicole muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I was thinking of something else.”

“He’s been so great with the kids.”

“He has.”

She said the words reluctantly, but there was no denying the truth. Either Jairus truly liked children or he was the best actor on the planet. And as she refused to give him any credit for talent or ability, she was left with the uncomfortable fact that he seemed to really like children. And didn’t that suck?

She wanted him to be pure evil. Or just slimy. Except for the hooker thing, he’d done well.

As the campers left to go home, the crowd around Jairus shrank. Tyler lingered and Nicole didn’t hurry him, knowing this was important to him. They would leave when Jairus did. Tyler would want every second with his hero.

As she watched, Jairus said something to Tyler, then walked toward her.

“You look less hostile,” he said as he approached.

“I didn’t want to scare the kids.”

“You’re still mad.”

“No. I appreciate you did a good job here.” Man, that was hard to say.

“Thanks. I am sorry.”

She looked at him without speaking.

He shoved his hands into his jeans front pockets. “This is the part where you say it was pretty funny and no big deal.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee by way of an apology?”

His eyes were beautiful, she thought absently. He was obviously of mixed race—kind of a common thing in LA. She wondered about his heritage. A little something of everything, she would guess.

“Nicole?”

“What? No.” That sounded rude. “Um, no, thank you.”

“Can I get your number?”

She stared at him. “Why?”

He smiled. A sweet smile with just a hint of sexy. A smile that made her insides feel funny and her knees go just a little weak.

What? No! No way and no. She was not attracted to the evil, awful author of Brad the Dragon. She hated him. Hated. There was no way she was interested.

“To go out? I don’t know you and you have friends who send you hookers.”

“I only thought they did. There’s a difference.”

“Not much of one. The fact that you thought they did means they’re capable of it. Those are not people I want hanging around my son. You did good here today. That’s all I wanted. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”

“So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no.”

“You’re tempted, though. A little?”

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

“Not really. And you do know me. Through my work.”

She thought about the endless hours she’d spent reading his books aloud. “That doesn’t recommend you.”

He surprised her by chuckling. “Not a fan?”

“You have no idea.”

He leaned close. For a second she caught a scent of something woodsy and clean. Nice. “I get that from a lot of parents, but the kids love me and I love them.”

“Don’t try to be nice now.”

“I’m always nice.”

And highly verbal, she thought. “You’re a writer. I don’t like writers. Look, you really have to go.”

He studied her for a few seconds, then nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Nicole.”

While she was happy this was over, a teeny, tiny part of her was sorry he was giving up so easily. Was it a writer thing? Because Eric had sure given up on them. Not that her marriage could be compared with her five minutes with Jairus, but still.

He walked back over to Tyler. They talked for a few minutes, then hugged. Jairus whispered something to the boy before leaving.

Tyler held his new book tight. “This was the best day ever.”

Nicole brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m glad. He spent a lot of time with you.”

“I know. He said he had fun.”

“I’m sure he did. Want to get your stuff so we can go?”

Tyler nodded and ran back the room where he’d left his lunch bag. The camp counselor moved next to Nicole.

“He was asking about you.”

“Tyler?”

“No, Jairus. You know... Were you single? Did you have a boyfriend? I think he was interested.”

There was a distinct fluttering right below her rib cage. Nicole told herself it was because she’d missed lunch. She was hungry—nothing more.

“I hope you didn’t tell him anything.”

“Just where you worked.”

Nicole groaned. “Why?”

“Did you see his butt? Plus, he’s successful.”

“Nothing will come of it.”

“I don’t know. He seemed pretty interested to me.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Are you kidding? He’s so sexy.”

“Not what I’m looking for.”

“Uh-huh. Keeping telling yourself that and maybe it will be true.”


Chapter Six (#ulink_340db364-cff9-5d09-979e-441c833e0cb9)

The waiting room was familiar. Hayley couldn’t guess how much time she and Rob had spent here. Talking. Hoping. There were also the appointments she’d had on her own. While it would never be a second home—no one would want that—it was familiar. Sometimes the news was good and sometimes it wasn’t. She’d cried here, hoped here.

She knew every painting on the walls. All landscapes. There were no pictures of families in this waiting room, no children. That would be too hard. The magazines were related to travel or cooking or sports. No smiling babies on parenting magazines.

Appointments tended to last a long time so it was rare to run into another couple. The process of having a baby when science had to get involved wasn’t easy.

Rob sat next to her, his left ankle rested on his right knee. His foot bounced as he stared unseeingly at the magazine he’d opened. She might be the one going through the procedures, but he’d always disliked Dr. Pearce’s office. Or maybe he disliked the reason they had to be here.

For the past four years, this place had defined their life. She’d been referred after her second miscarriage. There had been tests and discussions. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get pregnant, it was that she couldn’t stay pregnant. Her body rejected the fetus and while there were many explanations, there didn’t seem to be any solutions.

“It’s okay,” she told Rob. “You can relax.”

“Not here.”

She took his hand in hers. “We’re going to have a good appointment. I can feel it.”

He looked doubtful, but didn’t say anything. Alice, one of the nurses, called them into Dr. Pearce’s office.

“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked as they walked down the hall.

“Good. Taking my iron every day.”

She had to. She’d lost so much blood with her last miscarriage. She was also bleeding on and off. If it were Halloween, she could easily do the vampire thing and be plenty pale without makeup. The thought made her smile, but she doubted Rob would appreciate the humor.

Dr. Pearce was already waiting for them. She was tall and in her early forties, with short red hair and a lot of freckles. She looked like what she was—a sensible, compassionate woman. Hayley had liked her from the start. She kept current on the latest infertility research and was willing to discuss unconventional therapies.

Dr. Pearce shook Rob’s hand, then hugged Hayley.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Good. Strong.”

Dr. Pearce raised her eyebrows. “You don’t look strong, Hayley.”

“Okay, I’m better than I was. I’m eating right and taking my vitamins.”

“Good. Your body has been through a lot. It needs time to recover.”

Time was not Hayley’s friend. She knew that fertility started a steep downhill slide and with no information on her family’s medical history, she didn’t know if she came from a long line of fertile women or those who had gone into perimenopause at thirty-five.

She and Rob sat in the comfortable visitor chairs. Dr. Pearce slipped on reading glasses, then typed on her computer.

“We have your blood work from your last visit. It’s better than it was.”

Hayley pulled some papers out of her handbag. “Good, because I want to talk to you about this.” She passed over the sheets. “They’re doing great work in Switzerland. The clinic has had incredible success with women having trouble carrying to term. There’s a new drug therapy and special monitoring. It’s expensive, but we’ll find a way. We always do.”

She spoke quickly, careful to keep her attention on the doctor. Next to her, Rob stiffened. She knew why—this was the first he’d heard of the clinic in Switzerland. She hadn’t mentioned it because she didn’t want to hear all the reasons why it wasn’t a good idea. Rob didn’t get it. He thought they’d done enough. Been through enough. He wanted to give it a rest. Or adopt. No matter how much she explained neither option was possible, he didn’t want to listen.

Dr. Pearce ignored the material and took off her glasses. She looked between Hayley and Rob, then drew in a breath.

“No,” she said quietly. “I can’t recommend you, Hayley. The reason I wanted to meet with you today is because you’ve reached your limit. Your body simply can’t handle this anymore. The last bleeding episode was the worst, by far. I’m concerned about your health.”

“No. I’m fine. I feel great.” An exaggeration, but she did feel better.

“All the drugs and treatments have taken a toll,” Dr. Pearce continued. “I’m sorry. I know how badly you want to have a baby. There are other options that don’t include carrying a child to term.”

Hayley went cold. She couldn’t be hearing this right. “I have to,” she whispered. “We can’t use a surrogate.”

They’d tried, but her ovaries didn’t respond to the drugs. The attempt to harvest had failed.

“Hayley, listen to her,” Rob said, reaching for her hand. “That bleeding last time was scary. You can’t risk your health, your life. I don’t want you to die.”

She pulled her hand free and stared at the doctor. “I want to go to Switzerland. They’ll make it work. You’ll see.”

“That’s not an option. Not for you. Hayley, this is so hard to say and I know it’s going to be hard to hear. You need a hysterectomy. You’re at risk of bleeding. I’m afraid the next time it starts, we won’t be able to stop it.”

“No.” Hayley wanted to cover her ears. She wouldn’t hear this. Couldn’t. She wasn’t giving up. She was never giving up. There was an answer. There had to be. “No. You don’t understand. I have to have a baby. I have to.”

“Sweetie, don’t.” Rob reached for her again. He touched her arm. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this—”

She pushed him away and stood up. “A hysterectomy? No. I won’t.” That would be the end. She could never have a child of her own. Never have a family of her own. Something that was her. She needed that. Needed the connection, the belonging. Why couldn’t they understand? Why were they ganging up on her?

She turned to Rob. “Did you know about this? Did you talk to her?” She spun to the doctor. “Did you go behind my back?”

“No,” Dr. Pearce said quickly. “Of course not. Hayley, I know this is awful for you. I wish I could help you, but I can’t. Let me be clear. If you get pregnant again, you will bleed out and die. I strongly recommend you go to the hospital today for surgery, but I understand you have to think about this. Process it.”

“I want to go to Switzerland.” She had to focus on what was possible. Otherwise she couldn’t get through it.

Rob stood and faced her. “You’re not going anywhere,” he yelled. “You’re not getting pregnant. Let it go. Dammit, Hayley.” Tears filled his eyes. He shook his head, then walked out of the office.

Hayley stared after him, but didn’t follow. She sank back into her seat. “There has to be something,” she whispered. She was cold. Desperately cold. Her stomach churned.

Dr. Pearce came around the desk and took Rob’s seat. She reached for Hayley’s hand.

“This sucks,” she said bluntly. “You have done everything medically possible to carry a baby to term. I know how important this is to you. I wish you could know how I hate telling you this. I’m sorry, Hayley. If it’s this painful for me, I can’t imagine how awful it is for you. But you have to get through this. The surgery is necessary to save your life.”

She reached for a card on her desk. “I’d like you to see another specialist. She’s at UCLA. Talk to her. Get a second opinion and a third. But please, don’t wait too long.”

Because time was never on her side, she thought, the cold deepening until she couldn’t feel anything else.

Hayley nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I get it.”

She stood and collected the material she’d brought with her. She could feel herself moving, but something wasn’t right. It was as if she were underwater, or fighting through being slightly out of space and time. The cold was the only constant.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Pearce repeated. “Hayley, you have my cell number. Call me anytime. I mean that.”

“Sure. I will.”

She walked out of the office and back to the waiting room. Rob stood there.

“Are you going to listen to Dr. Pearce?” he asked. “Did you hear what she was saying? I don’t want you to die. We have to stop. You have to schedule the surgery.”

As cold as she felt, she was surprised her teeth weren’t chattering. She couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears, making it difficult to hear what her husband was saying.

Maybe this was shock, she told herself. Maybe it was a bad dream.

“We should go,” she said. “We’re done here.”

He looked at her for a long time. “I wish I could believe that.”

* * *

Gabby had met Nicole over a year ago through Shannon, Gabby’s sister-in-law. Casual conversation had turned to going to Supper’s in the Bag together which had morphed into friendship. Gabby knew in her head that Nicole ran an exercise studio that specialized in Pilates. She’d seen her friend in various outfits and knew the other woman was in great shape. But all that intellectual knowledge had not prepared her for a class at Mischief in Motion.

Mat Pilates had sounded easy enough. The mat part implied lying down. At least she wouldn’t be running and jumping. But halfway through her first class, she realized that the mat was just there to taunt her. There might not be running and jumping but there was more pain than she’d ever thought possible. Nicole wanted her to do things that the human body just wasn’t meant to do. At least hers wasn’t.

“Five more seconds,” Nicole said, sounding more like a drill sergeant than a friend. “And hold. Three, two, one and relax.”

Gabby fell onto her back. She was sweating and quivering. The sweating was gross but expected. What she objected to the most was the quivering. Even though the exercise was over, her stomach muscles continued to tremble. That couldn’t be good.

Nicole, all skinny and fit in black exercise leggings and a black and hot-pink racer-back tank, knelt by her mat.

“You doing okay?” she asked.

“No. I can’t move.”

“Just do what you can. This is a pretty advanced class. When we’re done here, let’s go over the schedule and find something you’ll enjoy more.”

“You mean a class with fat, out-of-shape people with emotional eating problems?” Gabby was trying to be funny but had a bad feeling she only sounded pathetic.

“I was thinking that a class geared to someone who’s been busy with her family might be better, but you call it what you want.” Nicole rose. “Okay, everyone. We’ll finish with the plank.”

Everyone rolled over and shifted into the plank position. Well, everyone except Gabby. She tried to sit up only to find that her body failed her. Pain joined the quivering. She rolled onto her side and managed to push herself up so she was at least sitting.

She watched the other women in the class hold their pose as Nicole counted the time. Three of the women dropped out at a minute, which left Shannon and Pam still going. At two minutes, Gabby felt her mouth drop open. Shannon was in fantastic shape, damn her, but Pam was over fifty. She looked great and obviously worked out a lot. Gabby figured she could either be inspired or feel bitter. Right now, bitter was winning.

“Three minutes,” Nicole said out loud.

“Ready to call it?” Pam asked, sounding out of breath.

“Yes. One, two, three.”

On three they both collapsed. Everyone applauded. Gabby told herself she would remember this moment and when she was faced with cookies or brownies, she would think of Pam. She might also eat a cookie, but it would be with Pam in mind.

Shannon stood and walked over. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Gabby admitted.

The other woman held out her hand, to help Gabby to her feet. Gabby took it and forced herself to stand. Her legs were shaking and she felt a little sick to her stomach.

“I hate exercise,” she admitted to herself as the rest of the students collected their things and left.

Nicole brought her a bottle of water. “Drink. Then come look at the schedule.”

“You did great,” Pam told her. “This is a tough class. Nicole works us extra hard, so the fact that you got through it shows grit. When I first started, I had the endurance of a noodle.”

“I’ve always liked pasta,” Gabby admitted.

The other women laughed.

Pam walked over to her tote bag. A head popped out. Gabby looked at the delicate Chinese crested and compared her to Boomer. They were barely the same species.

Lulu seemed more alien than dog, with a bare body that was sort of gray with white splotches. On her tail, head and feet, she had pure white fluffy fur. Today she had on a blue T-shirt with little hearts on it.

The dog might be weird-looking, but she was very well behaved. Boomer could learn a thing or two from her. Not that his lack of manners was his fault, Gabby admitted. She hadn’t taken enough time to train him. Pam reached for Lulu and the little dog jumped into her arms.

Pam returned to the group and everyone sat down on the mats. Gabby joined them. She didn’t have to be anywhere for a while.

“When’s your next trip?” Shannon asked Pam.

“September.” Pam turned to Gabby. “I have some friends I cruise with. We’re doing a quick cruise around Spain and Portugal.”

“They’re wild women,” Nicole added. “I keep expecting to hear you’ve mooned some island.”

“I don’t think my butt is big enough that I could moon an entire island,” Pam said as she stroked Lulu. “Maybe a beach. Hmm, I’ll get back to you on that.”

Shannon patted her lap and the little dog jumped gracefully over. “You’re going to stay with me, sweet girl. Aren’t you?”

“Char and Oliver must love that,” Gabby said. “The twins adore her.” Lulu had quite the wardrobe and was happy to play dress up.

“How long will you be gone?” Gabby asked Pam.

“Nearly two weeks. The cruise is a week, then I’m staying with friends.”

“Has anyone talked to Hayley?” Nicole asked. “I left her a message a couple of days ago and haven’t heard back from her.”

“I haven’t, either,” Gabby said. “I’ll text her when I get home.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. The women looked at each other. Gabby would guess they were each trying to figure out what to say.

“If something had happened, we would have heard,” Gabby said. “Rob would call one of us.”

“Even if he didn’t, Steven would know,” Pam added. “He would have said something. He knows better than to keep something like that from me.”

Despite being part of the Los Angeles metropolitan area, Mischief Bay was, at heart, a small town. Hayley worked for Steven Eiland who owned a plumbing company. Steven was Pam’s son.

“Poor Hayley,” Nicole murmured. “I worry about her.”

“Me, too.” Gabby knew her friend desperately wanted to have a baby, but she’d been through so much.

“Everybody has their own path.” Pam stretched her legs out in front of her.

“You got that right. The baby thing is complicated.” Shannon hugged Lulu. “Maybe I should get a dog.”

“You work too many hours,” Pam pointed out.

Gabby watched Shannon and wondered if her sister-in-law ever felt regrets. Shannon had an amazing career. She was CFO for a successful software company. But she was forty-one and hadn’t married until the previous year. She and Adam, Gabby’s older brother, didn’t have any kids of their own. Adam had two from a previous marriage. He and Shannon had just finished up the paperwork and approval process to be foster parents. Talk about changing their lives. They were going to make a difference, but Gabby wasn’t sure that was enough for a woman who really wanted kids. While she envied her sister-in-law her career, she wouldn’t have given up the twins for anything. She’d always wanted both.

But that decision left her wondering if having it all meant doing a lot of it badly.


Chapter Seven (#ulink_d635ade2-b491-5cdb-8650-f176ec12bbe7)

Nicole enjoyed the company of her friends. This was when her job didn’t feel like work. To be honest, except for the paperwork and payroll, which she hated, none of it did. She’d been blessed, she told herself. Owning Mischief in Motion was a dream.

She shifted so she and Pam sat facing each other, legs outstretched, feet touching. They reached out and grabbed hands, then Pam pulled Nicole toward her into a forward bend. The hamstring stretch was perfect, Nicole thought, letting her body relax. She sat up and pulled her friend forward. Pam leaned into the motion.

“You’re exhausting me,” Gabby grumbled. “Can’t you two let it be? Class is over. I still have to crawl to my car.”

Nicole grinned at her. “You should stretch or you’re going to hurt tomorrow.”

“I’ll hurt tomorrow anyway.”

Pam released Nicole and patted Gabby’s thigh. “Don’t join the beginner’s class. Stay with us. We’re more fun.”

“This class will kill me.”

“You say that now,” Nicole told her. “But trust me. In a few weeks, you’ll be able to keep up.”

Gabby groaned. “You’re so lying.”

The other women laughed.

Nicole knew she was telling the truth. Gabby was out of shape and needed to lose a few pounds—Nicole guessed close to thirty to be in fighting shape. But not everyone wanted to work out. That made no sense to her. She’d been active her whole life. But then when Hayley had tricked her into signing up for a knitting class, Nicole had hated everything about it. She’d quit rather than risk doing someone in with a knitting needle.

“It’s whatever you want,” she told her friend. “You are welcome at any of my classes. This one is more advanced, but you know everyone. My beginner’s class is definitely easier, but less social.”

“You can try the other one,” Shannon suggested. “Then figure out what you want to do.”

“Always with the reason,” Pam said as she stood. “You continue to impress me, missy.” She stretched up her arms, then shook out her shoulders. “I have to go. Lulu and I have a busy afternoon planned. See you all on Friday.”

Pam collected her tote, picked up Lulu. Gabby limped after her.

“Take a hot shower,” Nicole told her. “And an anti-inflammatory.”

Gabby groaned, waved and walked out of the studio. Shannon went to get her things and Nicole headed for her office. She had a couple of hours until her next class. As she passed by the front door of the studio, she saw someone approaching. A man. A familiar man with dark hair and beautiful brown eyes.

She came to a stop, not sure what to do. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Okay, she could hole up in the bathroom, but for how long?

She pressed a hand to her suddenly fluttering stomach. Well, crap.

“Nicole, are you okay?” Shannon asked.

Nicole twisted her fingers together and motioned to the door. Before she could speak, Jairus walked inside.

“Hey,” he said. “You do work here. I wasn’t sure the counselor at Tyler’s camp was giving me right information.”

Shannon walked briskly toward him. Despite wearing capri-length leggings and a tank top, she radiated control and power.

“Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Shannon. Who are you?”

“Jairus Sterenberg.”

Shannon’s eyes widened. “The Brad the Dragon guy. That was this week? Huh. I thought you’d have horns.” She looked at Nicole. “Do we like him?”

“Horns?” Jairus repeated.

Nicole shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He’s not evil.”

“You know I’m standing here, right?”

Shannon ignored him. “Was he good with the kids?”

“Yes, but it could have been an act.”

Jairus frowned. “It wasn’t an act. I like kids. That’s why I write kids’ books. And I’m still right here.”

Shannon sighed as she looked at him. “We obviously don’t care about that.” She turned back to Nicole. “I’m going to make a phone call. I’ll be by my car.” She pointed. “Right there. Where I can see everything.”

Nicole nodded, grateful for the not very subtle message that she wasn’t going to be alone with Jairus. Because being alone with him was confusing. Or uncomfortable. Tingle-worthy but weird.

Nicole forced herself to face Jairus. “You’re here,” she said unnecessarily. Still, the obvious observation seemed to be the safest.

“I am.” He smiled. “Hi.”

He had a good smile. Easy. Friendly. Appealing. She found herself wanting to step toward him. To smile back. To give in to whatever he was asking.

No, no and no. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. “Hello.”

He didn’t seem deterred by her body language. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

The smile broadened. “You can’t still be mad at me. I apologized sincerely.”

“How do I know it was sincere?”

“You know. I was mortified.”

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had used the word mortified in a conversation. Huh. “You’re right. You did apologize. So why are you here?”

“I thought we could get coffee.”

“I’m at work.”

He glanced around the empty studio. “You don’t have a class.”

“I will.”

“Then dinner.”

He was asking her out? This was the first time a guy had asked her out since she’d met Eric nearly eight years ago. She hadn’t dated since the divorce, hadn’t been interested. And she wasn’t now, no matter how good Jairus looked or how easy his smile.

“No, thank you.”

“Why not? I’m a nice guy, Nicole. I have a steady job, I like kids. Your son thinks I’m amazing.”

“Tyler thinks Brad the Dragon is amazing. You’re just the delivery system.”

“Ouch.” The smile faded. He pressed a hand to his chest. “Is it that you’re mad about before or you just don’t like me?”

“I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you, and I’m not mad. I’m just not interested.”

He took a step toward her. The movement wasn’t threatening, so she didn’t move back. Instead it seemed as if he were trying to figure something out.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Goodbye.”

He left. Just like that. No backward glance, nothing. Nicole stared after him, not sure what she felt. She’d thought he would make another run at asking her out. Apparently she’d been very clear in dismissing him.

Shannon walked back into the studio. “Well?”

“He’s gone. He asked me out, I said no and he left.”

Her friend glanced over her shoulder to where Jairus was driving away. His car was a black sedan. A BMW, but not overly flashy—at least for LA.

“Did you like him?” Shannon asked. “I know you hate all things Brad the Dragon, but I’m talking about the man. Was he nice? Were you tempted?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Shannon touched her arm. “You’re my friend and I love you. I also worry about you. It’s been over a year since you and Eric split. The divorce has been final for months and months, but to the best of my knowledge, you haven’t gone out with anyone. Aren’t you lonely? Don’t you want a romantic relationship in your life?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole admitted, telling the absolute truth. “I don’t let myself think about it.”

Shannon’s gaze turned sympathetic. “That’s what I thought. Maybe this is a good time to find out why.”

* * *

When Gabby was a kid, Legos had been a toy only boys played with. At least in her circle of friends. Sometime in the past twenty years, they’d developed a line of Legos for girls. As she carefully applied the sticker to what would be a scale in a pink-and-purple vet’s office, she thought this was actually kind of fun. Building things with her girls.

The directions were simple and visual. The twins took turns putting the pieces together. They had already named both the cat and the dog, and had big plans for adding this business to their Lego village.

She finished with the sticker and handed the little piece to Kenzie, who carefully snapped it into place. Her hands were so small, Gabby thought. With tiny fingers. Sometimes it was hard to imagine the girls would grow into adults in just a few years. While part of her looked forward to watching the evolution, she had to admit, having them stay her girls forever would be kind of nice.

“Anybody home?”

The question came from downstairs. The three of them looked at each other before the twins shrieked in unison and headed for the stairs. Gabby followed, wondering what brought Andrew home at three o’clock on a Wednesday.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Gabby walked into the kitchen to find Andrew holding a twin in each arm. He smiled at her.

“My afternoon meeting got canceled, so I headed home.”

She walked over and kissed him, then took Kennedy from him and set her on the floor. “It’s a very nice surprise.”

“I like surprises,” Kennedy said.

“Me, too,” her twin agreed.

Andrew winked. “Some surprises are very nice.” He loosened his tie. “I thought I’d take the girls with me. We’ll go pick up Makayla and grab dinner. Does that work for you?”

He was offering her an evening alone, to do whatever she wanted. A gift as rare as a natural blue diamond.

“That would be amazing,” she admitted. What to do first? A nap? Read? A bath? If she took a bath, she could also read and have a glass of wine. Talk about heaven.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Andrew lowered Kenzie to the floor, then picked up his briefcase from the counter. “Oh, I almost forgot. This weekend the new wheelbarrows are being unveiled.” He frowned. “Revealed. Whatever it’s called. We should go see them.”

The twins clapped their hands together, then danced around him.

“Can we?” Kennedy asked.

“We want to go,” her twin added.

The wheelbarrows were an interesting tradition in Mischief Bay. When the town had first been founded, criminals—mostly drunks—had been transported to jail in wheelbarrows. In the past ten years, they’d become a tradition in town. They were a fun charity moneymaker. People bid on the chance to decorate a wheelbarrow for a year. Gabby had first met Andrew at a fund-raiser for the wheelbarrows.

She’d been young—only a few months out of law school. She’d spotted him right away. He’d been talking with a group of people, engaged in their conversation, but also watching her.

She’d had boyfriends, of course, some of them serious. But no one like Andrew. No one that funny and sweet and together. He’d walked up to her and smiled and she’d been lost. The more she’d gotten to know him, the more she’d liked him. Their relationship had been a natural progression. Dating, falling in love, getting married. There hadn’t been any drama, no questions.

She remembered the first time she’d spent the night at his apartment. They’d been dating about two months and while she’d wanted him, she’d been nervous. Her lovers had been guys her own age, most of whom weren’t exactly experts. What if she’d been doing it wrong? Andrew was so sophisticated and out of her league.

When they were done—both out of breath, with her still trembling—he’d pulled her close. “You are so incredibly perfect,” he’d whispered. “How did I ever get so lucky as to find you?”

She thought of that now, of how he always looked out for her. His caring wasn’t always done in big gestures, like the Nordstrom card. There were little things, like taking the girls.

“I would love to see the wheelbarrows this weekend,” she told him.

The girls cheered.

“Let me run upstairs and change,” he told her. “Then we’ll head off and you can start your evening.”

“Perfect.”

She took the twins to the bathroom they shared and put sunscreen on them. No doubt they would be outside at some point. There was a brief discussion about what to wear before Kenzie decided their shorts and T-shirts would be just fine.

Andrew joined them. He’d replaced his suit and tie with jeans and a deep blue golf shirt that matched his eyes.

He was still so attractive. He ran a couple of mornings a week and when he traveled, he always worked out at the hotel gym. She thought of her disastrous performance at Nicole’s studio and knew that her unexpected free time would probably be better spent going for a walk or doing sit-ups, but there was no way that was going to happen. Wine, bath and book, here I come.

The four of them headed downstairs. “You’ll pick up Makayla on your way,” she reminded him.

“Promise.”

She kissed each of the girls, then him. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll take them shopping before dinner.”

“For what?” Kennedy asked.

“Something fun?” Kenzie added. “We need more Legos.”

“You do not,” Gabby said with a laugh. “If you get any more, we’ll be forced to move and none of us want that.”

The girls laughed. Andrew grinned. “I figured we’d go get booster seats.”

The girls started dancing and shrieking.

Gabby felt her good mood fade. “What? Why? We decided they were going to stay in their car seats a few more months.”

Andrew raised one shoulder. “We also talked about replacing them with booster seats. Come on, Gabby, they hassle you daily. Can you really deal with that for a few more months?”

Yes. Of course. They couldn’t let five-year-olds dictate decisions like this. Nor did she want the twins learning that if they complained enough, their parents gave in. Talk about the wrong message.

Both girls stared at her. Gabby knew that if she told him no, he would back down. But then she would be the villain. The one who took away the new, shiny thing. That her life would be hell every time she tried to get them into their car seats. “But Daddy said” would be a constant refrain.

She battled against anger. This was so wrong, she thought. Making the decision without her. Telling the girls so that she couldn’t really say no. She hated being put in this position.

“Is it really so bad?” he asked. “The car is safe and they ride in the back.”

“You’re not helping,” she told him.

“Mommy, please,” Kennedy pleaded.

“Yes, Mommy. Please, please, please.”

Everything about this was wrong, she thought grimly. From Andrew ambushing her to her giving in. Because it all came down to, as her husband often said, her willingness to die on this hill.

“All right,” she said.

The girls flung themselves at her. Andrew leaned in and kissed her.

“Was that so hard?” he asked. “Go have fun. We’ll be home around eight. I promise the girls will be tired and ready for their bath.”

She nodded and watched them leave. She knew she’d been outplayed. Worse, she’d been weak. What she didn’t understand was why it always seemed to come down to surrender or being the bad guy. When was there any middle ground?




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