21. Sienna
TWENTY-ONE
Sienna
No more fear, no turning back
Friday, March 21
Hearns, Frisk & Lupo, LLP
361 7th Avenue, Midtown
12:55 PM
The waiting room is quiet except for the soft hum of the HVAC system and the occasional rustle of papers from the receptionist’s desk. I sit on the edge of the chair, my hands clenched in my lap, trying to keep my leg from bouncing.
My stomach twists as I glance at the clock on the wall. Five minutes until my appointment. Five minutes until I have to say all of this out loud to someone who’s probably heard worse but will still look at me like my life’s a mess.
I'm doing Wordle to keep my mind from attacking me. A text comes through and I click the bubble to open it. My heart drops. It’s Callum.
You said Friday. Can I see you? I need to see you. Dinner tonight?
My body tingles as I stare at the message. Guilt threads through the anxiety already bubbling in me. I should tell him what’s going on, but I can’t. Not yet. I type back quickly.
I’ll let you know.
I shove the phone back into my bag before I can overthink it.
The door opens, and a beautiful Black woman in her late thirties or early forties sticks her head in. "Ms. Walker? Right this way."
I hate that name. I force a smile, "Yes."
I stand, clutching my bag tightly as I follow her down the hall. She stops to reach out her hand and introduce herself, "Hi. I’m Tip. I work with Gus. You’ll find I’m much more interesting to talk to."
I already like her. "Hi, Tip. Love your name. Thanks for taking care of me."
"You bet. Follow me. Gus is ready for you." I follow her into an office that’s just as sharp and professional as the man who stands when we walk in.
His desk is sleek and modern and the shelves are lined with books that have spines that look too pristine to have ever been opened. Tip slips out and closes the glass door behind her.
He gestures to the chair across from his desk, and I sit, trying to remember to breathe.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Walker. I’m Gus Jolie. It’s nice to meet you," he says, folding his hands neatly on the desk.
"Thank you for seeing me on short notice. You were referred to me by my friend, Brook Lawson."
"Yes, Brooke is a good friend. I’m happy to help. You’re looking for some advice regarding custody arrangements?"
I nod, my throat tightening. "Yes. My ex-husband—Marcus—he’s threatening to take me to court. He says I’ve been introducing people into Ollie’s life who aren’t safe."
Gus raises an eyebrow. "And by ‘people,’ you mean...?"
"Callum Reid," I say, my voice low. "He’s... an old friend. But Marcus saw Ollie, our son, on Tuesday, and apparently Ollie mentioned Callum to him. Told him he’s in a rock band. Marcus knows Callum. He was my boyfriend in college before Marcus and I got married. It’s complicated, but that is the gist."
"Okay, let's start from the beginning. Give me your history and how it intersects with your ex-husband, Marcus. I need the full picture so I can make sure I understand what we are dealing with."
I give it to him. Everything, from Marcus and I as friends, to the abrupt break-up, to the one-night stand all the way to today, this very minute.
"And when did it become a problem? When did Marcus threaten you with suing for full custody?"
I pause, taking a shaky breath. "Marcus called me that night, Tuesday night, furious. Said I was being reckless, exposing Ollie to someone with an unpredictable lifestyle. He said he would fight me for full custody. And he has the money and legal resources to bury me."
The lawyer leans back slightly, adjusting his glasses. "And how serious is your relationship with this Callum?"
"We’re just... seeing each other," I say, the words feeling too small to explain everything Callum and I are. "It’s new. And it’s separate from Ollie. I haven’t introduced them formally. I wouldn’t. Not yet."
He nods slowly, jotting something down in a notebook. "Does Marcus have any legal grounds to claim your behavior is endangering your son?"
I shake my head. "No. I’ve always prioritized Ollie. Marcus and I share custody, and I’ve never done anything to violate our agreement. But Marcus is controlling. He likes things his way. And he also has always felt threatened, or I should say, eclipsed, by Callum."
The lawyer leans forward again, his gaze steady. "Sienna, if you haven’t violated any agreements and there’s no evidence of actual harm to your son, then Marcus doesn’t have much of a case. He can threaten court, but a judge isn’t likely to take action unless there’s a legitimate concern."
Relief washes over me, but it’s thin, like a patch over a crack in the wall. "So, what do I do?"
"Document everything," he says firmly. "Every interaction with Marcus. Every time he threatens you. Keep records of your custody arrangement and how you’re following it to the letter. If he does take this to court, you’ll need to show that you’ve acted in Ollie’s best interest at all times."
I nod, my fingers twisting in my lap. "Okay."
"And in the meantime," he adds, "be cautious. I’m not saying you can’t see Mr. Reid, but if Marcus is looking for ammunition, don’t give him any."
Clover Club
210 Smith Street, Brooklyn
4:12 PM
Brooke swirls her cocktail. Her manicured nails clink softly against the glass as she studies me with that no-bullshit look I’ve come to expect.
She's the only friend I have that I knew would be free at three in the afternoon and up for a cocktail. I left the attorney's office and told her I needed a day-drink, and she made it to Brooklyn before I did.
"Okay," she says, leaning back in her chair. "Let me get this straight. Marcus is threatening to take you to court because Ollie mentioned Callum?"
"Pretty much," I say, slumping in my seat. The cozy bar we picked feels anything but cozy right now. The warm lighting and chatter around us are a stark contrast to the sunshine still shining outside. "He said I’m being reckless. That I’m exposing Ollie to someone with an unpredictable lifestyle who would only bring chaos."
Brooke snorts, taking a sip of her drink. "Of course he did. Marcus loves nothing more than throwing around his ‘mightier than thou’ attitude."
"It’s more than that," I say, my voice tight. "He said if his son so much as sees Callum from afar, he’s taking me to court."
Brooke sets her glass down with a decisive clink. "What is his fucking deal?! God, he's such an asshole! And you believe him?"
I hesitate, my fingers twisting in my lap. "I don’t know. I talked to a lawyer. That's where I left from when I texted you. He said Marcus doesn’t have much of a case unless he can prove I’ve actually put Ollie in danger. But he also said to be careful, to avoid giving Marcus any ammo."
Brooke tilts her head, her lips curving into a wry smile. "Let me guess—now you’re stuck wondering if you should back off and or give Marcus the big, fat middle finger?"
"Well, that is more your style. I prefer not to make waves. But, yes, I am wondering how to handle it. Keep the peace or keep exploring if there's even a there there with Callum. A part of me feels like if there is a second chance to find out I have to take it."
"Um, there is no question there, sweetheart. You do you and let him throw his own temper tantrum if he wants. He can't take away your son because you're seeing someone he doesn't like."
I nod, swallowing hard. "I hate the idea of giving him any kind of win, but I don’t want to risk Ollie getting caught in the middle of this."
Brooke leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Listen to me, Sienna. Marcus is lashing out because you’re happy, and he can’t stand it. It’s classic divorce bullshit. At first, the guy’s butt-hurt for being left, so he tries to hurt you. With him, it’s all about control. If you give him even an inch, he’ll keep pushing."
"So what do I do?" I ask, my voice quieter now.
"You call his bluff," she says firmly. "You show him that he doesn’t scare you. And if flaunting Callum a little drives him crazy? Even better."
"Brooke," I say, shaking my head. "That’s not going to help. He’s not just lashing out—he’s serious. He may not win in court, but he could easily bury me in court costs by dragging it out. He can make my life miserable."
"He won’t," she interrupts, her tone sharp. "Because he's an attorney and he knows he’ll lose. And you know what men like Marcus hate more than losing control? Looking stupid in front of a judge. He’s bluffing, Sienna. Don’t let him think he has any power over you."
I let out a shaky breath, her confidence almost convincing me. Almost.
"But," Brooke continues, holding up a finger, "that doesn’t mean you should hand him fodder on a silver platter. Keep things with Callum low-key for now. I know that’s not what you expect to hear from me, but if you can avoid really pushing his buttons, maybe he will eventually leave you alone."
"That’s what the lawyer said, too," I admit, the words sitting heavy in my chest.
"Well, there you go," Brooke says, picking up her drink. "Even a broken clock is right twice a day."
I let out a small laugh despite myself. The knot in my stomach is loosening just a little. "You really think he’ll back down ever? He is such a vindictive dick. I'm scared this is my life, walking on eggshells with him for eternity."
"I know eventually he will move on to his next victim," she says, her voice confident. "We can only hope he gets married quickly. The key is not letting him think he’s won. So be smart, but don’t cower. He feeds off of control, so when he thinks he can't control you anymore, he will move on."
Her words stick with me as I glance down at my phone at a missed text from Callum.
Looking forward to seeing you tonight. I've missed you.
I hesitate, and Brooke notices immediately. My stomach is in knots because I miss him, too, but I'm not sure if I should let it continue.
"What’s that face?" she asks, tilting her head.
I sigh, holding up the phone. "It’s Callum. I'm supposed to meet him tonight. I was planning to tell him... you know, about this mess. And that I couldn't see him anymore."
Brooke narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. "Well, luckily we talked and you came to your senses. You're going to meet him, have an amazing night, and then fuck his brains out. Right?"
"Am I?" I say more to myself than to her. "Honestly, Callum doesn’t need this shit in his life. He’s already got enough going on. He's trying to release his first album."
"Sienna." Brooke’s voice softens, and she places a hand on my arm. "Listen to me. You have the weekend. Ollie’s with Marcus. This is your time. Use it. Have fun with Callum. Be happy for once."
"And when Ollie’s back?" I ask, my tone more cautious now.
"Then you keep it low-key," she says, shrugging. "You’re not sneaking around—you’re protecting your peace. There’s a difference. But don’t cut Callum off because of Marcus. That’s exactly what he wants you to do."
Her resolve is almost infectious, and for a moment, I feel like I can breathe again. I glance back at my phone and type out a quick reply to Callum before shoving it into my bag. And I smile to myself.
"Fine," I say, standing and grabbing my coat. "But if this all blows up in my face, I’m coming for you."
Brooke smirks, tossing back the last of her drink. "You’re welcome."
Antica Pesa
115 Berry Street, Brooklyn
6:57 PM
My heart pounds against my ribs as my mind still replays Brooke’s words. Have fun. Use the weekend. Don ’ t let him win. Easier said than done.
But then I spot him.
Callum is sitting at a table near the window. His leather jacket has been replaced with a sensible sweater and his signature tight jeans. He has one hand wrapped around a tumbler of amber liquid.
Slightly jostled hair is a perfectly curated mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. Be still my heart.
The glow from the overhead light catches on the edge of his jawline, highlighting the stubble. He looks... good. Too good. Like a memory brought to life and sharpened with time.
The stress, the frustration, the tangled knot of Marcus and everything else—it all slips away the moment my eyes fall on him. He notices me before I can duck behind a passing waiter, and his lips curve into that easy, familiar smile that used to make my knees weak.
Still does.
"Sienna," he says, standing as I approach. His voice is low and warm and cuts through the noise like it’s meant just for me.
"Callum," I reply, my own voice softer than I expected.
He steps around the table and brushes his hand lightly against the small of my back as he gestures for me to sit. The touch is brief but electric, a current that runs straight to my chest, making it hard to breathe.
"You look incredible," he says as I settle into my chair, his gaze steady but soft.
I laugh, shaking my head. "I feel like a train wreck."
"Well, you don’t look like one," he says, sitting back down and resting his elbows on the table. "I've needed you this week."
There’s something in the way he says it, like he’s really seeing me, and I feel my cheeks warm under his gaze.
For a moment, I let myself relax, sinking into the warmth of the room and the quiet pull of him sitting across from me.
I want to tell him I've felt the same about him but I decide to refrain for now. I'm still not sure what the best way to handle this or him. Live in the moment, enjoy the night, I keep reminding myself.
Just as the server steps forward to take my drink order, the knot in my stomach tightens again. Marcus’s voice echoes faintly in my mind, a reminder that nothing about this is simple.
"Everything okay?" Callum asks, his brows furrowing slightly as he studies me.
I force a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah. I’m fine."
But the truth is, I’m not sure how this is going to go. And as much as I want to lose myself in him tonight, the weight of everything outside this restaurant threatens to follow me in.