Page 1 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter One

M aria Hearsy Bernard’s normally perfectly coifed dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore a Panic Station T-shirt that was far more fitted than anything she would normally wear in public—although to be fair, she wasn’t currently in public.

Her makeup hadn’t been refreshed in hours, and here she stood in the middle of the kitchen of the estate home she shared with her estranged husband, trying to rush her three-year-old daughter through eating macaroni and cheese with a side of apple slices.

Vic was due home soon, and Maria would prefer to be upstairs, bathing Riley, behind closed doors, before that happened.

She knew her soon-to-be ex-husband wouldn’t wander up there looking for either of them.

He’d wait for Maria to text that she’d put Riley to bed and left the room, and then he would make his way upstairs to bid her goodnight.

Such was the routine they’d fallen into since that fateful day nine months ago when he’d noted that she ought to be ovulating soon and if they had sex for three specific days during her cycle, she was 76 percent likely to become pregnant.

Not only that, he’d continued, but if they had sex during the first three days of her cycle, she was 58 percent more likely to have a boy.

“Do you think spewing scientific probabilities makes me horny?” she’d responded, which was entirely out of character for her; both the snarky retort instead of docile agreement and also the use of the word horny .

While he sputtered incoherently, she’d clearly been on an uncharacteristic roll, because she paused only for a moment before following up with, “I want a divorce.”

A grin framed with practically neon orange Kraft cheese lit up Riley’s face as she focused on something over her shoulder, and Maria knew she had not timed this evening as well as she should have. Although—she glanced at the clock on the microwave—Vic was home earlier than usual.

Darn it. She hated when she was forced to interact with him in person.

He stepped into the kitchen, the heels of his Italian leather shoes clicking on the natural stone floor. Maria did not turn around.

She did not call out a greeting.

Their relationship had deteriorated to this—uncomfortable cohabitating for the sake of their child.

Riley seemed oblivious to the fact that rarely were her parents in the same room together nor did they speak in person very often, but Maria knew it was only a matter of time before their daughter picked up on the tension and it began to affect her.

Maria hadn’t yet worked out how she would handle that inevitable moment. In truth, she’d lived in the same sort of household until she went to Seattle for college, and she’d turned out…

Well, yes, she most certainly needed to figure out a solution that would not set Riley up to follow in Maria’s footsteps.

Vic stepped up next to her, so close that the sleeve of his Armani suit whispered past her arm. Maria kept her face forward, did not look at him.

Sometimes, she’d try to recall the good times, would even attempt to talk herself into reconciling with Vic. Except the good times, in retrospect, hadn’t been good at all.

She didn’t even particularly like her mother, yet that life was all she’d ever known, so it was what she formulated for herself, even though she’d not once been truly happy. Well, not until she had Riley, at any rate.

Since then, those moments of happiness had revolved entirely around Riley.

Not a single one had involved her husband.

She’d not even felt all gooey and mushy over watching him interact with their child, because he rarely had until she’d asked for the divorce.

And whatever interaction he now had was not within her sight, normally.

Almost as if he were trying to contradict her thoughts, he reached out and ruffled the soft, dark curls on Riley’s head. His daughter thrust out chubby arms, but he stepped slightly out of reach and slapped something onto the counter so hard Maria winced and Riley’s mouth fell open.

Maria’s gaze darted down to the piece of paper on the granite countertop, her eyes automatically drawn to the bold headline across the top of the page.

FINAL DECREE OF DIVORCE

Oh . It was finally official.

She waited for the emotions to hit. Something, anything. That was supposed to happen when something so life-changing occurred, right? She’d certainly felt an onslaught of emotions over her grandmother’s death. More than she’d probably ever felt in her entire life.

This, the announcement of her divorce, did not produce an onslaught.

She canted her head, studying the fancy, swirling letters. Nope. No reaction. Oh, wait. There it was.

Relief.

Was that supposed to happen? She had no idea.

She didn’t have any close friends who had divorced—okay, she had no close friends.

And no one in her immediate family had ever divorced.

There was an aunt on Vic’s side, but Maria did not know her, and if the divorce was mentioned at family gatherings, it was referred to as “the scandal.”

Neither of her sisters were married, although her younger sister, Holly, was due to be married—this month, actually.

Maria and Riley were supposed to fly down to the Ozarks for it.

Vic wasn’t going. She hadn’t invited him.

She was looking forward to the physical distance, truth be told.

She was always so damn tense these days; it was a wonder she didn’t have high blood pressure. Or anxiety. Or something.

“I want you out of the house,” Vic said, and for the first time in months, Maria fully turned to face him, to really look at him.

He’d changed. Not much, but there were small details that were noticeable now that she actually focused on him.

Those brackets around his mouth were new, and the lines on his forehead hadn’t been there before she’d quietly demanded this divorce.

He was still arguably handsome: tall, muscular, with pale blue eyes and regal features.

If one were searching for something, the only potential negative she could note was his receding hairline, which had begun when he was in his twenties.

He was forty-two now, ten years older than Maria, and the decades had exposed more and more of his wide forehead.

All of this observation was not why she’d looked at him directly, though. “Pardon?” she finally asked.

“I know we agreed to coparent Riley and that living in the same house would make that easier, but I need space right now,” Vic said.

“It’s a 5,000-square-foot home,” Maria pointed out. “We go days without seeing each other, with very little effort.” Okay, perhaps she did consciously put forth a reasonable effort to that end, but he didn’t know that. Nor did he need to.

Not that Maria wanted to continue to live with her newly minted ex-husband. It was more of a necessity at this juncture.

She was one of those wives who had contributed a great deal to the household, yet none of it was financial.

She managed the staff who ensured her house was clean, that there were groceries in her cupboards, and her yard was impeccable; she even arranged for the standard maintenance on their vehicles.

She supposed she’d be an excellent manager, although she doubted she could convince any hiring entity to see it that way.

She’d not worked a day of her life outside of her home, and with her utter lack of a résumé, she couldn’t imagine anyone would be willing to hire her.

Truth be told, she didn’t need to work right away.

She had money. Her grandmother had left a sizable inheritance to each of her granddaughters.

Maria hadn’t touched hers. She hadn’t needed to.

Each time she thought about leaving, finding her own place, joining the real world, she couldn’t convince herself to take that first step.

Because she had no clue what that step was.

“Are you saying you want to stay together?” Vic asked, and oh God, that wasn’t hopefulness in his voice, was it?

They’d not actually had any arguments over the divorce. She had asked for it, he’d ignored her for a few weeks, and then he’d approached her as if the conversation had never happened. After the third time around that merry-go-round, she’d had him served with divorce papers.

He'd hired her lawyer. She hadn’t even known that was allowable.

The lawyer had written all of her requests into the documents, and Vic hadn’t argued with a single one. Including this agreement that they live in the same household and raise Riley together.

“No, Vic,” she finally responded. “I’m not.”

“Why do you want to continue living here? With me?”

“It isn’t with you, exactly…”

They were terrible at communicating. Always had been.

For their entire relationship, he’d suggested they do something and she’d gone along with it.

It started when she was about to graduate from college.

She’d not had a clue what to do then, either, despite her degree and all the resources available to help her start a new career.

Vic had suggested they get married—they’d been dating for about six months at that point—and she’d agreed because it was easier than finding a job and anything was better than moving back home with her parents.

Four years ago, he’d suggested they have a baby, and Maria agreed because that was what she was supposed to do.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“What about Riley?” she asked, flapping her hand at their daughter, who sat in her highchair, her head bouncing back and forth like she was watching a tennis match.

“I assume you’ll take her with you.”

It was a relief to hear him say it, but did he not want to spend time with his own child? Not that Maria would ask that question, in case he changed his mind. Without a place to live, she would most definitely not win a custody battle, even if they did continue to use the same lawyer.

“I have nowhere to go,” she finally admitted.

“Go to your parents.”

She snorted. He’d always hated the sound. Just like her mother did.

“There’s nothing wrong with your parents.”

He would say that. Because he felt her parents were the perfect role models. Even better than his own.

“Did it ever occur to you that our attempt to be exactly like my parents is why we’re divorced now?

” She rubbed at her forehead. No, of course he wouldn’t think that.

“Besides, even if I could stomach moving back in with them, my mother will disown me when she finds out about the divorce. This is possibly even worse than running off to join a rock band.”

That was what her younger sister had done, and guess what? Holly was the happiest of all three sisters. If only Maria had any musical talent whatsoever.

“She already knows,” Vic said.

Of course she did. It wouldn’t surprise Maria in the least if he told her mother the moment the lawyer handed him the document.

He had a bit of an Oedipus complex for her mother.

If Maria weren’t so convinced that they both hated scandal so much, she’d almost think they were having an affair.

Hell, her father would never notice; he was too busy working.

“Now I certainly can’t stay there,” Maria pointed out.

Vic sighed. “What about your sister? Could you stay with her?”

“Which one?”

Like her mother, Vic preferred to pretend Maria had only one sister: Ava, who lived in New York City and worked as much as their father and kept the entire family at arm’s length at all times.

Maria was much closer to Holly, which was a topic one did not discuss in either the Hearsy or Bernard household.

“Ava, of course,” Vic said.

Maria had never been to visit Ava in New York City. The invite had never been offered, and until now, she would never have dreamed of asking.

“You really want Riley and me to go all the way to New York?” she asked.

“I just want you out of the house.”

The statement wasn’t even full of emotion, yet it was the most emotion he’d ever shown, outside of when they had sex.

And even then, he buried his face in the pillow or in her neck, and half the time it felt as though he were trying to restrain himself.

At a moment in time when he should be allowing himself to be utterly free and unrestrained.

Look, divorce was hard. Harder on Vic than on her, she’d wager. This was not something he’d ever considered would be in the cards. It just wasn’t done in his circles, and he’d done his darndest to select a spouse from a family with the same criteria. He believed he’d done everything right.

Except there was one aspect of their relationship that had always been lacking.

Love.

And Maria was no longer willing to live like that.

She unstrapped Riley from her high chair and lifted her daughter into her arms. “Fine. I will leave. In the morning.” She paused. “Is that acceptable?”

“Yes.” He sounded weary, and she paused again. Had he changed his mind?

He didn’t speak.

Maria headed upstairs to give Riley a bath. Vic would assume she was going to either her parents’ or Ava’s. It would never occur to him that she’d run to her other sister.

Which was exactly where she planned to go.