29. Sienna
TWENTY-NINE
Sienna
I see your face in the light of day
11:04 AM
Sunlight streams through the large windows, filling the room with a soft, golden glow. It’s the kind of morning that feels too perfect to waste, but I can’t bring myself to move. Not yet.
The white cotton sheets are soft against my skin. They are still tangled around us like the aftermath of a storm. Everything feels light, like the weight I’ve been carrying is on pause for just a moment.
Callum is lying beside me, his arm draped across his forehead, his other hand resting lazily on my hip. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. The sharp angle of his jaw catches the sunlight and accentuates the kind of rugged charm that is completely unfair this early in the morning.
The warmth of his body next to mine anchors me, easing the chaos swirling in my head. If I could bottle this feeling—this rare, perfect calm—I’d carry it with me everywhere, ready to open it whenever Marcus tries to turn everything upside down, or when lawyers and headmasters fill my day with endless demands.
"You’re staring," he murmurs, not moving his arm from his face.
"How do you know? Your eyes are closed."
"I can feel you staring."
"You’re imagining things," I counter, smiling as I shift onto my side, propping my head up with one hand. "Maybe you’re staring in your dreams."
He smirks, finally tilting his head to look at me. His crystal blue eyes are soft, still a little hazy from sleep. "If I was dreaming, you’d be on top of me right now."
I laugh, shoving at his chest playfully. "It wasn't too long ago that I was."
"Yeah," he says, his hand sliding from my hip to curl around my waist, pulling me closer. "That was amazing. I love… everything about you."
I don’t respond right away, the word settling in the space between us. Love. It feels big and delicate and entirely too soon after how long we've been apart, but at the same time, it doesn’t. It feels like breathing, like something that’s always been there, just waiting to be reignited.
"It was," I say softly, my voice steady. "I love you, Callum. I never stopped."
He stills, his gaze locking on mine. For a second, I think I’ve miscalculated, but then his lips curve into that lopsided grin that always makes my stomach flip. "You know," he murmurs, "I was going to say it first, but you stole my thunder. Typical."
I laugh again, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. I was a giddy schoolgirl the last time I said those words to him. A college schoolgirl, but young and na?ve all the same.
Telling him that again takes me right back there to that time when anything and everything was possible.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "I love you too, Sienna," he says against my mouth with his sexy, low, and scratchy voice. "I’ve always loved you."
God, the sound of his voice alone sends tingles through my entire body.
The words settle over me and wrap around my heart in a way that feels almost too big to hold. I run my fingers through his hair and smile as he pulls me closer. His nose brushes against mine and it's like our souls are touching again for the first time.
"Say it again," he murmurs, his lips grazing my temple.
"I love you," I whisper, my voice soft but steady. "I love you, Callum Reid."
His grin is slow and a little mischievous, the kind that always made my knees weak. "Damn right, you do."
I swat his chest, laughing as he rolls us over so I’m beneath him. His weight pins me to the mattress and the security and passion it brings is overwhelming.
He kisses me again, slow and teasing, until I’m a little dizzy and totally lost in him.
When he finally pulls back, his hand cradling my jaw, he looks down at me with that familiar, crooked smile. "So, beautiful, captivating Sienna, what do we want to do today? The world is your oyster."
I laugh softly, my fingers tracing the line of his shoulder. "You make it sound so easy."
"With you?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm. "It is easy."
I smile, but there’s a pang of something deeper—something bittersweet that I can’t shake. For just a second, I let myself wonder what it would’ve been like if things had gone differently. If Callum had been the one there when Ollie was born, raising him, sharing the little moments. How much simpler everything would be. How much happier.
But the thought passes as quickly as it comes, swept away by the warmth of his hand sliding over my waist.
I smile, but it falters slightly as reality nudges its way back in. "I think we need to do something. Distract me before my mind starts worrying about Ollie."
He props himself up on one elbow, his expression softening. "Why? What’s going on?"
"He has his music lesson this afternoon," I say, shifting onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. "I just hope Marcus takes him this time and doesn’t try to sabotage it."
"Why would he ruin that for him?" Callum asks, his brow furrowing. "Isn’t it just an hour?"
"It’s not the time," I say, shaking my head. "It’s... Marcus. He always wants to change people and mold them into what he thinks they should be. I don’t know. I just worry. Ollie loves it so much."
Callum’s hand slides to my waist, his thumb brushing gently against my side. "That kid sounds like he’s got it figured out. I mean, he’s five and already knows what makes him happy."
I smile again, softer this time. "He really does. Music is his jam. He’s always humming, making up little songs. I think he has natural talent. You know a little something about that! Marcus wants him to be a little lawyer."
"Well," Callum says, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. "Maybe I can help with that."
I turn my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Help how?"
He grins, sitting up and reaching for the nightstand. "Hold on," he says and I see the gears in his eyes turning.
He climbs out of bed, and I take a moment to appreciate the view—his completely nude, lean, muscled frame. The way the sunlight catches the tattoos on his arm makes me drool.
He grabs some boxers and starts riffling through a box. When he comes back, he’s holding something small and metallic when he sits on the edge of the bed. His grin is soft and a little nostalgic, and something about his whole demeanor makes me want to grab him and hold him forever. And then I see what’s in his hand.
"A harmonica?" I ask, sitting up as he hands it to me.
"Not just any harmonica," he says, sitting back down beside me. "This was the first instrument I ever learned to play. My dad gave it to me when I was about Ollie’s age. It’s what helped me learn notes and harmony. I want Ollie to have it. That way he can carry music with him everywhere he goes."
My fingers brush over the worn metal, and I look up at him, my chest tightening. "Callum... are you sure? This must be so special to you."
"Yes, I'm as sure as shit," he says, his voice steady. "It’s been sitting in a drawer for years and I brought it here for good luck. It brought me you, so it did its job. If Ollie’s into music, this will be his constant companion and help him develop his natural talent."
I stare at him for a long moment, the weight of his gesture sinking in. "He’s going to love this," I say softly. "Thank you."
"You don’t have to thank me," he says, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. "I'm thankful to share it."
Monday, April 7
Hearns, Frisk & Lupo, LLP
9:54 AM
The fancy highrise always feels too pristine for the kind of turmoil I bring through its doors. But before I can start overthinking how frazzled I must look, Tip catches sight of me from her desk and beams.
"Well, if it isn’t our favorite client," she says, standing to greet me with a hug.
"You must say that to everyone," I tease, though secretly I hope it's true. Tip is always a highlight of these dreaded meetings.
"Not true," she says, hands on her hips. "You’re without question in the top three."
"Good to know I’m climbing the ranks," I say, smiling back.
She laughs and grabs a file from her desk. "Gus is ready for you. He said to bring your A-game, so don’t go easy on him."
"I’ll do my best," I say, giving her a mock salute before heading into his office.
Gus is already seated behind his desk when I walk in. He used to stand to greet me, but I guess we've moved past the formalities at this point.
His glasses are perched low on his nose as he scribbles something on his legal pad. He looks up as I approach, nodding toward the chair across from him.
"Sienna," he says, setting his pen down with a small smile. "How are you holding up?"
"We are getting through. Outside of him, things are good."
"Good. Come in. Let’s start with the school situation. You met with the headmaster on Friday, right?"
I sink into the chair, setting my bag on the floor. "I did. It was fine until Marcus showed up."
His brow furrows. "He was there?"
"Uninvited," I say, frustration bubbling up again just from saying it aloud. "The headmaster swore he didn’t tell him, and I didn’t either. So I have no idea how he knew when and where I’d be. He just... walked in and took over."
Gus leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "And what’s your take on the school?"
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to focus. "It’s a great school, but Ollie’s happy where he is. His teachers love him, he has friends, and he’s thriving. There’s no reason to pull him out other than that Marcus wants to call the shots."
Gus nods, jotting something down. "Then my advice stands. You’ve done your due diligence by meeting with the headmaster and considering the option. Unless Marcus can prove that Ollie is struggling where he is—which, from everything you’ve said, he isn’t—he has no grounds to push for a change."
"So I don’t need to do anything?" I ask, the tension in my chest easing slightly.
"No," Gus says firmly. "Let the acceptance deadline pass. If Marcus tries to push this further, we’ll address it then."
I nod, leaning back in the chair. "That’s a relief. Thank you."
"Of course," he says, closing the folder. "Now, tell me about this new layer you mentioned to Tip when you set up our meeting. Something about private communications?"
I sink into the chair, setting my bag on the floor. "Yes. Long story short, Callum talked to a mutual friend of all of ours from college who was everyone's go-to for tech questions. He said Marcus was asking a lot about how to block numbers, intercept messages, and even hack emails."
"Okay, go on."
Gus listens intently as I lay everything out even though my thoughts are still jumbled as I'm still continuing to process it myself.
I start at the beginning—how Callum and I never received each other’s messages or calls all those years ago, despite both of us trying. How I’d saved his number in my phone, but somehow, the digits got mixed up.
Callum’s friend Ian confirmed that Marcus had been asking questions in college about call-blocking and message interception. Who does that?
I explained that Marcus shouldn't have known when I’d be at Trinity Prep, unless that headmaster is a really good actor.
By the time I’m done, my chest feels tight, like the words have left a weight behind instead of lifting one.
Gus leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Those are serious accusations, Sienna. If Marcus has been accessing your private communications, that’s not just a custody issue—that’s a potential criminal matter."
The words hang heavy in the air between us, and I clasp my hands tightly in my lap. "What do I do?"
"Well," he says, picking up his pen again, "one option would be to subpoena his phone or email records. But that’s not an easy route. You’d need to show probable cause, which would require more than circumstantial evidence, like Ian’s testimony or the meeting ambush."
I nod, already feeling the weight of it. "So you’re saying we can’t do anything."
"Not quite," Gus says. "For now, I’d suggest documenting everything. Every unusual interaction, every instance where he seems to know more than he should. If this behavior escalates, we’ll have a stronger case to pursue legal action. But write down everything."
"Document everything," I repeat, my voice flat. "Got it. And I'll do it on paper not online!"