Page 70 of A Way Out
“You aren’t going over there to win back your girl?”
“I just want to talk to her,” he insisted.
Roxanne’s face fell. Was she disappointed in his answer? “Well, I suppose I should wish you luck. Maria is a lovely woman, and, if your band’s Instagram feed is any indication, she’s become even more so since she started hanging out with you.”
“Thanks.” Oz snatched the paper from Roxanne’s talons.
And then he bolted out the door.
To go win back his woman.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maria clutched her phone, staring at the darkened screen as she considered calling Oz for the fifteen billionth time. Just to hear his voice.
Except she knew he’d ask a slew of questions that she wasn’t sure how to answer yet.
“What are you doing in Washington?” would be first on the list, undoubtedly.
Her answer? “I’m not sure.”
Vic had been perfectly polite. Instead of sending a car, he’d picked her up from the airport, for God’s sake. And then he’d insisted she stay at the house.
“No expectations,” he said. “I had the housekeeper make up one of the guest rooms. I just think it will be easier. For Riley. That’s all.”
She’d agreed, mostly because she wanted to get this new development sorted and settled as quickly as possible so she could get on with her life.
They hadn’t talked about her conversation with Tim or Vic’s alleged plan to file for sole custody. In fact, they’d talked of very little.
“How was the wedding?”
“Fine.”
“Good, good.”
Long pause.
“Business is going well.”
“Great.”
Long pause.
“Did Riley have fun?”
“Of course she did,” Maria had snapped irritably. Vic had closed his mouth and stared at her like she was an alien. To him, she probably was. She’d changed a great deal in a very short time.
And she liked this person she’d become.
Unfortunately, she was still a little unsteady on her new feet, which explained how it was eight o’clock on Wednesday morning and they still hadn’t discussed the reason she was here in the first place.
Vic was waiting for something, although she had no idea what. For Tim to show up, maybe? That seemed odd; why wouldn’t they go to his office?
The doorbell rang, and she hopped up and hurried to answer, even though this wasn’t her house anymore. Although she was glad she was the one who opened the door—she needed a moment to compose herself.
Oz.
His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it no less than a hundred times. There were deep shadows under his eyes and brackets around his mouth. His hoodie and jeans looked like he’d slept in them. Considering it was eight in the morning and he was standing on her ex-husband’s porch in Washington when she knew damn well he was supposed to be in LA, he may well have.
