Page 44 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

God, I’m such a dumbass.

I lock my phone and toss it onto the bench beside me, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.

I knew this would happen. Iknew it.The way he looked at her, the way she was so comfortable there—it all makes sense now.

Of course, he’s sleeping with her. He’s a rockstar on the cusp of something huge, and she’s a star in her own right.

Isn’t that what they all do? Pair up, make headlines, fuck like bunnies?

My chest tightens, and I swallow hard, trying to shove the hurt down where it can’t choke me. I glance at Ollie, chasing a little girl around the swings, his laugh echoing through the park. I can’t lose it here. Not now.

This is the universe reminding me where my priorities are. Ollie. Not redoing a failed romance with the man who left my heart in pieces while he followed his dreams.

But the anger—God, the anger is harder to push down. I hate him. I hateme.For believing him, for letting myself fall back into something I should’ve left in the past. I can't blame him. We aren't together. He doesn't owe me anything.

It's my fault for creating a happily ever after in my head.

What was I thinking? That we would ride off into the sunset like Sonny and Cher? We all know how that ended.

The breeze ruffles the branches above me, scattering petals across the bench and onto my lap. I brush them away while keeping my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. This was a mistake. All of it.

I grab my phone and shove it into my bag as I stand. "Ollie!" I call, trying to keep my voice even. He looks up, his face flushed and happy. "Time to go, bud. Mommy's got some work to do and you can have a snack."

"Already?" he says, pouting as he jogs over. "I'm not hungry. I want to play!"

"Yep. Let’s go," I say, brushing his hair back and giving him a quick smile I don’t feel. "We’ll come back tomorrow."

He grumbles but takes my hand, and I lead him toward our street. My phone stays buried in my bag, the weight of it pressing against me like a dare. I don’t pull it out. I can’t.

Sienna’s Brownstone

8:16 PM

Ollie is finally asleep,tucked in with his dinosaur pajamas and his favorite bedtime book still open on the pillow beside him. I lingered longer than usual tonight, watching him breathe softly marveling at his little hand clutching the corner of his blanket. He’s my anchor in all of this—the one constant I can hold onto when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.

But now the apartment is quiet, and the knot in my chest has tightened into something I can’t ignore. I sit on the couch with my laptop balanced on my knees. The faint blue light from the screen washes over the coffee table, catching on the edges of Ollie’s crayon drawings scattered across it.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I know that.

But ever since the park, the headline has been gnawing at me, repeating in my mind like a broken record.

Callum and Finley. A power couple. Last summer. My hands hover over the keyboard for a moment, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down hard, and then I type their names into the search bar.

Callum Reid Finley James.

The results load in a blink, and there it is—article after article, photo after photo. The first one is from a music blog I’ve never heard of, but the photo catches my eye immediately. It’s them, on what looks like a rooftop bar, the city skyline glowing behind them. Callum’s wearing a v-neck t-shirt and holding a drink, leaning slightly toward Finley, who’s laughing with her head tipped back.

"LEGEND" glares at me. Fucking legend.

I scroll further, skimming headlines that blur together in my mind.

Dynamic Duo? Callum Reid and Finley James Spark Rumors of a Romance During Studio Sessions.

The Next Big Thing: Callum Reid on the Verge of Stardom, With Finley James at His Side.

My stomach twists as I click another link, this one from a more mainstream site. The headline is worse: "Are Callum Reid and Finley James the New Power Couple of Rock?"

The article mentions their collaboration, praising their chemistry in and out of the studio. There’s a photo embedded halfway down—Callum and Finley at an industry party, her hand resting casually on his arm. It looks so natural, so easy. They look like they belong together.

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