The Friends We Keep. Susan Mallery

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?