19. Sienna
NINETEEN
Sienna
But if time bends, if fate allows
8:44 AM
It’s strange, hearing my own voice lay everything out like this. I’ve spent years keeping so much of it to myself—pushing it down, filing it away, telling myself it didn’t matter anymore. But here I am, spilling every piece of it to Callum. And the weirdest part? It doesn’t feel terrifying. It feels... cathartic.
Maybe it’s because he was there at the start of all this. Not for the Marcus part, but for the beginning of me becoming who I am now. If he hadn’t left...
No. I don’t go there. Not anymore. What’s the point of "what if" when it doesn’t change what actually happened?
But still, lying here with him now… It’s like I’ve been holding this weight in my chest for so long that I forgot what it feels like to breathe. And somehow, he makes it easier. Maybe because he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t try to fix it or tell me I’m wrong for feeling how I feel. He just listens, his gaze steady and quiet, like he’s giving me all the space I need to unload without judgment.
I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair as the room falls silent again. The heaviness of my words lingers for a moment before I glance at him and offer a small smile. "God, I must sound like the world’s biggest downer."
He shakes his head as his mouth curves into a soft smile. "You don’t."
"Liar," I say, laughing lightly. "But thanks for letting me fill in those parts you don't know. I don’t usually..." I hesitate, searching for the right words. "I don’t usually unload my baggage like this."
“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning closer.
"Open up like this," I admit, my voice quieter now. "I’m usually pretty good at keeping it all locked up. But... I don’t know. It feels like part of this is your story."
His brow quirks slightly, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. "How?"
"You were there," I say, shrugging. "Not for all of it, but for the start of it. You were... the catalyst, I guess. I don't know. I'm not making sense now."
His hand brushes mine lightly, and the gesture sends a small jolt of warmth through me. "Well, for what it’s worth," he says, his voice low, "I’m glad you’re talking to me now. I actually want to know everything. The good, the bad, and even the ugly."
The air between us shifts slightly, the tension from before giving way to something lighter, softer. I glance at him, his hair tousled and his eyes steady on mine, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.
"You know," I say, leaning back against the pillows, "you were a lot more fun when you weren’t so serious."
He laughs, the sound rich and warm, and I can’t help but smile. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," I say, my grin widening. "What happened to that guy, huh? The one who used to do ridiculous dance moves to make me laugh? Or sing off-key just to annoy me?"
His hand moves to the curve of my waist, his touch sending a ripple of heat through me. "Maybe he’s still around. Just needs the right motivation."
I arch a brow, my smile turning sly. "Well, maybe I should motivate you. How about a little morning surprise?"
His eyes darken slightly, his hand tightening on my waist. "You better mean what I think you mean."
I laugh, soft and low. My heartbeat kicks up as I climb on top of him. "Guess you’ll have to find out."
I lean in close, breathing in Callum's scent—a mix of cedar and warm skin that makes my head spin. My lips brush his neck as I whisper, "Ready for that surprise?"
His breath catches as I trail kisses down his chest. The rough stubble on his jaw contrasts with the smooth skin of his torso. I take my time, savoring each inch. My hair falls forward, tickling his stomach and thighs.
My hand wraps around his cock, already hard and hot in my palm. I stroke him slowly, feeling him pulse and twitch. "Fuck, Sienna," he groans. The sound sends a thrill through me.
I take him into my mouth, relishing his sharp intake of breath. My tongue swirls around the head before I slide down, taking him deeper. The taste of him, salty and masculine, floods my senses. I set a steady rhythm, alternating between long licks and sucking.
Callum's hands tangle in my hair, not pushing, just holding on. I can feel the tension in his body as he tries to stay still. It turns me on even more, knowing how much he's affected.
I pull back to catch my breath. "You taste so good," I rasp, my voice husky. Then I take him in again, bobbing my head faster.
His hips start to move, thrusting gently. "Sienna, fuck, that feels amazing," he pants. I hum in response, the vibrations making him curse.
I can tell he's getting close. My hand works in tandem with my mouth, twisting and stroking. His muscles tense, thighs trembling. Just as I feel him start to pulse, he tugs me up.
In one swift move, he flips us over. I'm on my back, breathless, as he reaches for the nightstand. "Wait," I gasp. "I'm on the pill. You don't need..."
His eyes lock with mine, dark with desire. "You sure?"
I nod, pulling him close. "I want to feel you. All of you."
He groans, positioning himself. Then he pushes inside, filling me completely. The sensation is overwhelming - hot, hard, so deep. I cry out, nails digging into his back.
"God, Si," he breathes. "You feel incredible."
He starts to move, slow at first, then building speed. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure through me. I wrap my legs around him, urging him deeper.
Our bodies move together, finding a perfect rhythm. It's raw and primal, yet so intimate. I've never felt so connected, so in sync with someone.
"Callum," I moan. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
His pace increases, driving into me harder. I'm lost in sensation, every nerve ending on fire. The pressure builds low in my belly, a coiling tension ready to snap.
"I'm close," I pant. "So close."
"Let go," he urges. "I've got you."
His words push me over the edge. I come apart, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. He follows soon after, burying his face in my neck as he pulses inside me.
We lay tangled together, catching our breath. I feel weightless, sated in a way I've never experienced before. Callum's weight on top of me is comforting rather than stifling.
As our heartbeats slow, I realize this was more than just sex. It was a reconnection, a coming home. And for the first time in years, I feel truly, completely alive.
L'Artusi
228 W 10th Street, West Village
7:42 PM
The restaurant is loud in that cozy, inviting way. A low hum of laughter and clinking glasses fills the space.
Brooke sits across from me, swirling the last of her wine in her glass. Her perfectly manicured nails catch the candlelight. She takes a sip of her wine, studying me over the rim of her glass. "So, how’s Callum?" she asks, casual but pointed. I knew it wouldn't take her long to get there.
I narrow my eyes at her. "What makes you think there’s anything to tell?"
She snorts, setting her glass down. "Because I know you. And because you texted me this morning sounding suspiciously... happy."
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. "Fine. We’ve worked through some kinks and we've been spending time together."
Her brows shoot up, and she leans in slightly, her elbows resting on the table. "Oh, really? How much time are we talking?"
I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my face feels warm under her scrutiny. "Last night... and this morning."
Her eyes widen, and she sits back with a knowing grin. "Well, well. Look at you."
"Don’t start," I warn, laughing despite myself. "It’s not a thing. I’m just... going with it. For now. Like you said."
Brooke tilts her head, her expression softening. "Good. You deserve to have fun, Sienna. I'm glad to know you're not overthinking it."
"I’m trying not to," I admit, swirling the wine in my glass. "And honestly? It’s nice. We’ve been talking, too. Like, really talking. We have almost six years to catch up on."
Her grin returns, and she raises her glass in a small toast. "To good wine, good sex, and getting out of your own way."
I laugh, clinking my glass against hers. "You’re amazing."
"Look at you," she says, raising her glass. "My little grasshopper, finally learning to chill."
I laugh, clinking my glass against hers. "It only took me twenty-seven years."
As I set my glass down, Brooke leans forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What about Finley James? Are you three getting extra kinky and making it a threesome? I know how much you love her."
I wave a hand dismissively. "Stop it! Oh, my God. No. She's not in the picture."
"I bed to differ. I saw the picture s , with an 's'"
"I mean, they aren't fucking. We cleared up. Turns out it’s all PR bullshit. Nothing ever happened between them, not really."
Brooke lets out a soft hum of approval. "Oh, okay. That is good to know. I like him for you."
"Don’t get ahead of yourself," I warn, though my voice lacks the edge it might’ve held a few days ago. "We’re just enjoying each other right now."
"And you’re okay with that?" she asks, studying me.
"Yeah," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "I think I am. Ask me that when he ghosts me in a month."
The server drops off the check, and we split it. Before we take off, the conversation turns to lighter things—Brooke’s latest client horror story, Ollie’s obsession with his keyboard, and the ridiculousness of New York parking tickets.
I welcome the shift.
By the time we step out into the chilly night air, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
That is, until I pull out my phone and see the missed call from Marcus. My stomach twists as I read the text he left beneath it.
Call me immediately.
"Fuck," I mutter, my thumb hovering over the screen.
"What?" Brooke asks, frowning.
"Marcus," I say, shoving the phone into my purse before I can let him completely hijack my night. "He wants me to call him."
Her brow furrows. "Do you think something’s wrong?"
"I don’t know," I admit, my chest tightening. "And I don’t care. I’ll deal with it later."
Brooke studies me for a second before nodding. "I like this side of you. He's a capable parent and you're a grown ass woman."
I force a smile, and we say our goodbyes, heading in opposite directions. But as I walk, my steps quickening against the pavement, my mind races. What could he want? Something about Ollie? The custody schedule? Private school?
He always pulls this shit when he has Ollie. I've learned his habits by now. This is nothing. Right?
My heart pounds as I clutch my purse tighter, my fingers brushing against the phone inside. I tell myself I’ll deal with it later, but the truth is, I’m far from letting it go. Marcus always finds a way to creep in, to twist the knife just when things start to feel okay.
By the time I reach the subway, my chest feels like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. I’m mad—at him, at myself, at the way he still has this power over me. Whatever it is, I know it’s going to stick with me until I face it.
Goddammit.
My fingers shake as I type the message, my resolve flickering but holding.
If Ollie isn’t in danger and is okay, I’ll call you back when I’m able.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, and the message delivers almost instantly.
A response comes seconds later. He’s not used to me making him wait.
He is, but we need to talk NOW.
I stare at the screen, anger and relief colliding in my chest. Typical Marcus. The vague, ominous wording is textbook manipulation, designed to keep me off balance.
But not this time.
I shove the phone back into my purse and board the subway, my resolve hardening. Ollie’s fine and Marcus can wait. Tonight, for once, he doesn’t get to dictate the terms.