Page 78 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

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 stirmy 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 nextdoor 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."

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