Page 9 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

"All of it." I wipe my hands on my shirt again. "Sometimes I forget that girl from Charleston didn't completely disappear. I’m glad you knew me then and still love the me I’ve become. And more importantly, you’re going to help me find that part of me again."

"She's still in there." Emma starts gathering the drop cloths. "One emerald green dresser at a time."

My phone buzzes for the fourth time. I glance at the screen and laugh.

"What?" Emma peers over my shoulder.

"Ollie convinced his grandfather to get ice cream. Got chocolate all over his dinosaur shirt." I show her the angry text from Marcus. "Apparently, this is proof I'm not installing proper manners."

"Good for him." Emma grins. "Speaking of food, want to order a late lunch from Golden Dragon? Dad's testing a new soup recipe."

I look at our handiwork. The dresser stands proud against my bedroom wall, still wet but already perfect in its imperfection. Nothing like the manufactured elegance of my old life.

"I can make us those dumplings your dad taught me to make." I stretch my back. "I need a break and I already have all of the ingredients. We can eat them in front of the TV. Maybe even on the couch."

Emma gasps in mock horror. "Margaret Walker would never recover."

"Good thing she's not invited."

8:01PM

I uncorka bottle of red while Brooke raids my fridge. The sounds of Ollie's white noise machine drift from down the hall.

"Your kitchen's so cozy now." Brooke emerges with cheese and crackers. "So much better than that sterile marble monstrosity Marcus insisted on for your renovation. Just saying."

"God, everything was white and chrome." I pour generous glasses. "Not that anything's wrong with that look. I just need a little warmth. Now I can cook without worrying about messing it up."

"Speaking of cooking—" Brooke takes a long sip. "Emma texted about your dresser makeover. Said you're channeling your Charleston self in all kinds of creative ways?"

I arrange the crackers on a plate. "She's exaggerating."

"Is she though?" Brooke tops off her glass. "You know, in the four years I've known you, this is the first time I've seen glimpses of the girl Emma talks about. The artist who designed band posters and dyed her hair purple."

"Normal college rebellion." I lean against the counter. "We all have to grow up."

"Growing up doesn't mean you have to lose yourself, you know," she says with a tone that reminds me of something my mom would say.

"I'm not sure you would have hung out with me on the Upper East Side when we met if I had purple hair."

"You give me no credit! That would have drawn us together, Honey!"

"Ha. I'm sure. Easy to say now that you love me!"

"It's true. Seriously, though. This divorce is your chance to find yourself again. I love what you did with the dresser. Let's encourage that creative Sienna hiding in there to come out and play more often. And let's dye our hair purple!"

"I'm trying to find a way to tap into that creative side again. I'm thinking about doing graphic design. I'm nervous, but it would be the perfect job to do while O is in school."

"You should totally do that!" Brooke leans forward, excited. "What made you stop in the first place?"

I take a long sip of wine, memories surfacing that I usually try to keep buried. "That's... complicated. Before Marcus, before all of this, I thought I had it all figured out."

"What happened?"

"Callum." His name still catches in my throat sometimes. "We were together since Freshman orientation. He was in this band that played at The Royal American every weekend. I'd sit at the bar, designing their posters between sets, completely in love with the music. With him."

"What changed?"

"Some douchebag discovered him and told him he had to move to Nashville to make it." I trace the rim of my wine glass. "It was his dream, you know? Who was I to stand in the way of that? He promised he'd come back for me once he got established."

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