25. Sienna
TWENTY-FIVE
Sienna
Our hearts may break, but love remains
Wednesday, March 26
Electric Lady Studios
2:01 PM
The smell of coffee and faintly stale pizza hits me the moment I step into the studio. Callum’s voice carries over the hum of conversation. His booming baritone is sharp and clear even from down the hall.
I follow the sound, weaving past bandmates and engineers until I spot him standing by the mixing board talking to someone in a suit.
He is smiling and animated, and I can tell he is excited about whatever they are discussing.
I pause to watch him, admiring his stature and the way his skinny jeans hug his long, trim frame. He is holding a plain brown package in one hand and using the other to make a point to the man in the suit.
He spots me standing there and smiles at me before shaking the man's hand and thanking him. As he walks toward me, my knees grow weak. I'm so excited to see him walking my way that I don't know what to say or do.
"Am I interrupting?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
His eyes snap up, and the easy grin that spreads across his face makes my cheeks hurt. "Never."
"You look happy," I say as I gently place my hand on his bicep. I want to kiss him, but I know we have eyes all around, so I resist.
"A lot to celebrate. We are getting closer to the finish line with the album and I think we’re finally about to close the nightmare with Morrison."
"Well, that’s some awesome sauce. Where did y’all land?"
"We’ve got a tentative agreement, but no ink on paper yet. But he has verbally agreed to ninety-five thousand and a bi-lateral NDA."
"That’s amazing, Callum. I’m so happy for you. I know this has been hanging over you for so long. Now, onto the good stuff—the album!"
"It’ll be a huge weight off once it’s done. Then I can just focus on this. And you."
"You deserve that clean slate."
He holds up the package he’s been clutching as if his life depended on it. "And this, my dear, is the coup de grace."
I glance at the box. "What’s this?"
"Patience," he says, nodding toward the couch in the corner of the room. "Sit. You’re gonna want to be comfortable for this."
I raise an eyebrow but do as he says and settle into the worn leather cushions. He sets the package on the coffee table in front of me. "You’re building this up a lot," I say, noting that Callum isn't usually one for theatrics.
He smirks, crouching down to peel back the tape. "Not nearly enough."
The wrapping falls away, revealing a slim jewel case with a simple, printed cover. Callum Reid—Mock Album Copy . I blink at it, my stomach doing a strange little flip as I take it in.
"This is it," he says softly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "The rough version, anyway. The songs are done, but the mixes aren’t finalized. The jacket design’s on its third draft, and they’re still fighting over the track order."
I pick it up carefully, running my fingers over the case. The tracklist on the back catches my eye, each title feeling like a small window into his world. "Callum... this is incredible."
"Don’t get carried away," he says, sitting beside me. "It’s not done yet. Just thought you might want to see it."
"See it?" I glance at him. "You mean listen to it."
"Only if you want to," he says, his grin returning. "But yeah, that’s kind of the point."
My heart squeezes again as the weight of the gesture hits me fully. He didn’t have to share this—not with me, not now. "You’re letting me hear it before it’s finished?"
"You’re the first person I wanted to show," he says simply.
I open the case and read through the list of tracks again. One title, in particular, jumps out at me— The One I Left Behind . The air seems to shift around us and feels heavier now.
"What’s this one about?" I ask, tapping the title.
He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the case. "You’ll have to listen to find out."
I glance at him, my throat tightening. "Callum..."
"It’s yours," he says, cutting me off. "Take your time with it."
I nod, unable to find the right words. Instead, I reach out, my hand brushing his. "Thank you."
He squeezes my fingers lightly before standing, his grin softening. "You’re welcome."
As I slip the case into my bag, I catch a glimpse of his bandmates in the corner, pretending not to watch us. "They always this nosy?"
"Always," he says, smirking. "You get used to it."
I laugh, but the moment doesn’t last. My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me back to reality. When I glance at the screen, my stomach tightens seeing a text from Tip Kent, Gus Jolie’s paralegal. Unfortunately, we have been getting very close lately due to all of the legal shit Marcus keeps throwing my way.
The message is short.
Marcus is trying to have you served. A process server keeps hanging around, trying to catch you coming in. Call me when you can and I’ll tell you what I found out.
Callum notices my expression immediately. "Everything okay?"
I force a smile, shoving the phone back into my pocket. "Yeah. It’s fine."
But it’s not fine. It's never fine. Same shit, different day.
Thursday, March 27
Hungry Ghost Coffee
4:19 PM
I stir my decaf latte absently, watching the heart design in the foam swirl into a small spiral, slowly disappearing. My mind is running in a dozen directions at once.
This late in the day, if I drink caffeine I'll be up until after midnight, but I love the taste of coffee so much I could literally drink it all day long.
Emma slides into the seat across from me, shrugging off her light jacket. The typical New York spring is cool one minute and warm the next. "Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal."
"No worries," I say, forcing a smile. "Thanks for meeting me. Ollie has his music lesson I finally got him signed up for next door and I have an hour to kill. I know this was a trek for you, so thank you."
She gives me a look, her dark eyes narrowing. "Girl, please. You know I love an excuse to get a coffee and I would travel to Westchester to hang out with you. This is perfection for me. You look like you’ve been chewing on something all day. Let me guess: Marcus strikes again?"
I hesitate, glancing around the café like I’m expecting him to pop out of the pastry display. I swear I feel like he tracks me lately. "I got served this morning. I got a warning yesterday from the attorney's office it was coming, but it still feels like a gut punch when you hear those words, 'You've been served.'"
Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. "Served? For what? Is he really going through with trying to get full custody after all?"
"No, he finally abandoned that threat when he knew it was a losing battle. This is his newest control tactic."
I pull the folded papers from my bag, sliding them across the table. She picks them up and scans the top page quickly before flipping to the next. I sip my latte, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
"Private school?" she says finally, her tone incredulous. "That’s his big play now?"
I shrug, leaning back in my chair. "Apparently. Since he couldn't keep me under his thumb with that threat about not seeing Callum, he’s now wanting to dictate where our son goes to school. Of course, he doesn't want him to be down the street from our home, that would be too convenient for me. Now it’s all about Ollie’s education and how I’m ‘holding him back.’"
Emma scoffs, setting the papers down with a sharp flick of her wrist. "Holding him back? He’s five and in kindergarten."
"Exactly," I say, my voice tight. "He’s happy, he’s thriving, and his teachers love him. But no, Marcus needs the optics of private school because it makes him look like Father of the Year. To be honest, I think it is more about exercising his will over mine because he knows I don't want him to go to that school. But, I can't prove that, of course."
Emma shakes her head and takes a long sip of her coffee before setting the cup down with a decisive thud. "Let me guess—he framed this as ‘what’s best for Ollie.'"
"Of course he did," I say bitterly, my fingers tightening around my cup. "He filed a petition to modify our agreement to include school decisions. It proposes we agree or have a court intervene. He claims that I’m neglecting Ollie’s best interests by not considering private school if ‘we’ can afford it."
Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? I’ve never heard of an order like that."
I nod, letting out a heavy sigh. "And now I have to respond. Gus says Marcus doesn’t have a strong case to make this happen, but he’s recommending I meet with the school to hear them out anyway. It shows I’m not dismissing the option outright."
Emma leans back, crossing her arms. "So, what’s next?"
"I scheduled a meeting with the headmaster at Trinity Prep," I say, swirling my coffee absently. "It’s a week from tomorrow. We will go over the programs and what they offer. I’m trying to keep an open mind, but it feels like just another way for Marcus to bulldoze me into doing what he wants."
Emma tilts her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "Do you think you might consider moving him?"
"I don’t know," I admit. "I’ve heard Trinity is great, but Ollie’s happy where he is. He loves his teachers and his friends. Pulling him out feels wrong."
"Then go to the meeting, hear what they have to say," Emma says firmly. "And let that be that."
"That’s my plan," I say, though my voice wavers just slightly. "I just hate that I have to keep fighting him at every turn. It’s exhausting."
Her expression softens, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "I know. I hate it for you. Remember you're doing this for Ollie at the end of the day."
"Is it?" I murmur, my voice quieter now. "Because sometimes it feels like all I’m doing is dragging him through this mess."
Emma’s grip tightens. "Don’t do that to yourself. You’re showing him how a responsible parent behaves. Marcus is the one dragging this out, not you. Ollie may realize it one day, but even if he doesn't, you are his only true advocate. Fight, fight, fight."
I nod, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. "I hate that this is what our life looks like now. Lawyers, court papers, constant fighting. It’s exhausting."
Emma tilts her head, studying me for a moment. "How’s Callum handling all this?"
The question catches me off guard, and I blink at her. "He doesn’t know."
Her eyebrows shoot up again. "You haven’t told him?"
"It just happened this morning. Plus, the last thing he needs is to be dragged into my drama," I admit, tracing the edge of my cup with one finger. "He’s got so much going on with the album, and... I don’t know. It feels like adding this on top would just?—"
"Stop," Emma says firmly, cutting me off. "Sienna, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep handling everything on your own because you’re afraid to ask for help. Callum cares about you—he’s not going to run because things get ugly with your ex."
"It’s not that," I say, shaking my head. "It’s just... Marcus already hates him. If he finds out Callum’s involved, he’ll use that against me. I don’t want to make things worse."
Emma sighs, leaning back in her chair. "I get that. But you’re allowed to have support, you know. You don’t have to do this alone."
I know she’s right—I know keeping Callum in the dark isn’t fair. But the thought of Marcus finding another way to twist the knife makes my stomach turn. And the worry that he could somehow hurt him professionally scares me.
"Look," Emma says gently. "You don’t have to tell him everything right now. But don’t shut him out, Sienna. He’s not Marcus. He wants to be here for you. Let him."
I nod slowly, her words sinking in. "Yeah. I know you're right. I’ll think about it."
"You better," she says, giving me a small smile. "Because if you don’t, I’m telling him myself."
I laugh despite myself, the sound lighter than I expected. "Oh, you're such a toughie. That might motivate me if I didn't know you."
"That’s why you love me," she says with a wink. "I’m a silent assassin."