Aly Martinez

It could be said that Bree wasn’t my biggest fan. It could also be said that I’d puked on her shoes the night we’d met. But hey, stomach acid under the bridge, right?

We weren’t mortal enemies or anything. Bree and I got along just fine—on the surface. Deep down, she was a touch…uh, difficult.

And judgmental.

And snobby.

And…well, high maintenance.

With my signature mix of laid-back pop and soul, Solstice in the ’92 was supposed to be my ticket to the top of the charts. Thirteen songs I’d poured my heart and soul into, each one representing a different stage in my life from growing up without a dad to my party days as a bachelor, all the way to the birth of my daughter. They were bold. They were raw. They were Eason Maxwell. Selling them off was going to feel like being ripped limb from limb.

But they would pay the bills.

Maybe even permanently bring back the light in my wife’s eyes, the spark in our marriage, and allow me to keep my family together. There was nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice—hopes and dreams included—to be the man Jessica and Luna deserved.

For that reason alone, I managed a smile as I stared down at her. “It’s the right thing to do, babe. For you. For Luna. Hell, maybe even for me. A fresh start can’t hurt, right?”

She circled her arms around my neck—the first physical contact she’d initiated in weeks.

“Hard to say, but I’ll make some calls first thing on Monday.”

She let out a giggle that momentarily quelled the burning in my throat. “‘Turning Pages’ is incredible. I bet someone huge snatches it up.”

Great, just what I’d always wanted: an egocentric prima donna singing about my tumultuous relationship with my narcissistic mother.

I shot her another tight smile. “That would be amazing.”

Her voice had a renewed levity I hadn’t heard in months. “We should celebrate. Grab a bottle of champagne while you’re out.” She paused. “Actually, never mind. I’ll ask Bree. She’ll bring the good stuff.”

Oh, of course. I’d ripped my heart out and set it at my wife’s feet, but it would be Bree who’d save the day.

It was salt in the wound, but like so much of my marriage, I just kept right on smiling. “Sounds great.”