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.
