Page 67 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

She hesitates, her fingers tightening around her glass. "Nothing as dramatic as your week, that’s for sure."

"Hmm," I say, watching her closely. "Is that so? Because your face says otherwise. Out with it."

Her smile fades slightly, and she glances down at the table. "I don’t want to ruin the night. Honestly. I'll tell you, just not here. Let's talk about happy things."

"You won’t ruin the night," I say, my voice quieter now. "Sienna, you can tell me anything. Let me be there for you."

Her gaze meets mine, and for a second, I think she’s going to open up. But then she shakes her head, her smile returning, softer this time. "Please, let's drop it."

I nod, not wanting to push any further. "Deal. But just so you know, I’m gonna hold you to that."

By the time we finish with dinner and linger over drinks, the conversation shifts to less intense topics. I’m telling her about the worst dive bar gig I ever played when she interrupts, laughing.

"I remember that," she says, shaking her head. "You texted me that night, saying the audience was mostly cockroaches."

"That sounds about right," I say, laughing with her. "Man, I’d love to see what twenty-one-year-old you was texting me back then. After I left, I mean. I wish I had gotten your texts."

She grins, tilting her head. "You know, I never delete my texts. I still have them. Those texts you say you never got. I just looked at them again recently, after we ran into each other, to see if I somehow missed your responses. A long line of blue bubbles with not a single word from you."

I blink at her. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she says, pulling out her phone. "Hold on. I’ll show you."

She scrolls through her messages, and after a few minutes, she turns her phone to me. "See."

"No way," I say, leaning closer as she opens the conversation. "I never saw any of these."

Her texts become longer and more desperate, until the last few, which are heartbreakingly short.

Why won’t you answer me? I don’t understand. I guess this is it, then.

I hate you.

Maybe this was a bad idea. My stomach twists as I read them. The weight of her words settle heavily in my chest. "Sienna..."

"I was so angry," she says quietly, her voice tinged with something raw. "And we're supposed to be doing happy tonight." She swipes at the message and instead of closing it opens up my contact information. The number catches my eye.

"I’m sorry," I say, the words feeling too small and my eyes are drawn back to the phone number. "Sienna, I don't think that was my number," I point to her phone.

She hesitates, then turns the screen toward me. "That wasn't your number?"

I stare at it for a second, confusion settling over me. "No. The last four digits are wrong."

She blinks, her head tilting slightly. "What?"

"I’m serious," I say, pulling out my wallet and digging for an old business card I’ve kept since Charleston. I hold it up to her phone, and sure enough, the numbers don’t match.

We sit there in silence, both of us staring at the screen.

"That doesn’t make sense," she says finally. "I saved it directly from your other texts."

"Maybe it got messed up somehow?" I suggest, though even as I say it, doubt creeps in. "That is super weird."

She sighs, locking her phone and setting it down on the table. "Let’s not dwell on it. I don’t want to end the night obsessing over ancient history."

"Fair enough," I say, leaning back. "What do you want to end the night with, then?"

Her lips twitch, her expression softening. "You know, I’ve been thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve had a real night off."

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