Page 1 of A Way Out
Chapter One
Maria 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.
