Page 77 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

The smellof 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 grâce."

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."

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