The first time after they slept together, Tristan said he didn't want her anymore.

It was Sabina who wanted him.

"It was a one-time thing," he'd argue lowly, yanking her wrist away when she tried snaking it in his jeans. "Ms. Kyle, I really don't think it's a good idea to continue—whatever this is."

And that would've been fine, it would've been fine if Tristan felt iffy being in some sort of fuck-buddy agreement with his boss, and it would've been fine if his actions weren't opposite his words, if his eyes didn't stare whenever she bent over, if he didn't grip her waist whenever she passed by him.

So Sabina knew he wanted her, too. Still. Of course he did, one time was never enough for any of the men she'd been with.

A week after Tristan wasn't budging, Sabina got impatient. She was tired of her battery-operated boyfriend, so in the shower, while Tristan waits outside for her to finish, she yelled, in her loudest voice, "Help! Tristan!"

It was four seconds before the door slammed open. His eyes were frantic and wide, moving rapidly around the bathroom, one hand already on his waistband. "What?"

Shamelessly naked, Sabina grinned. "Hey, daddy."

"Jesus, fuck." Tristan tilted his head back and rolled his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. "I told you not to call me that, that's not my thing. And seriously?"

"Yeah. I do need help." She tipped her chin towards the towel rack. "Can you pass me my towel?"

He stared at her and raised an eyebrow. "You can reach your towel."

"Then I'll need your help somewhere else. I want you."

Tristan grabbed the towel off the hook and handed it to her, eyes dark.

Sabina pressed her back against the shower wall and smiled. "I'll put the towel on if you look down."

"Jesus Christ, Kyle."

"I know you want to."

"Why are you such a brat?" he demanded, features tightening. "I don't want this to be a thing—"

"Then we establish rules." Sabina held up her hand. "One. No kissing, I don't like it. Two, no talking about it at work, I'm a professional and I expect you to be one, too. Three, no feelings, no strings, no complications. Now, will you help me or not?"

Tristan put her towel back on its hook and kept his eyes on her. "You don't hold back on anything, do you?"

Sabina's hands travelled lower down her body. "No. Is that a problem?"

He took off his jacket, shaking his head, mouth curving, keeping his eyes on hers. "No. Not to me."

"Then get in here, daddy. Oh, sorry. Bishop."

He stepped in the shower with her and shut her up.

So, no. Sabina doesn't hold back on anything. Her agency told her to watch both her face and words on camera because, as a public figure, her reputation can go down the drain in seconds.

Sometimes, however, it was easy to forget.

"Sabina, let's talk about The Fit. Your magazine teased an upcoming collaboration with Women For Women. Can you tell us more about it?"

"Yes." Sabina nods and smiles, crossing her legs together. "We're very excited about our project with them, it's set to release in a few months. The Fit has always been in support of WFW's advocacy, and we're happy to be able to contribute to their initiative of providing menstrual product supplies to women in crisis and conflict zones."

The talk show host puts down his cards and draws his eyebrows together. "I heard you have some transgender models in your upcoming photoshoot for this project. Is that true?"

Sabina keeps her smile. "We contact models we think look best in our products."

"And, uh, how do you think people will respond to this issue?"

"Issue?" Sabina repeats, raising an eyebrow. "It's not an issue."

An awkward laugh escapes his lips. "Ah, well, your partner is called Women for Women—"

"And transgender women are women, there's no issue anywhere, Billy." She laughs. Out of fucking ridiculousness. "Please do anticipate our launch."

Once the topic is deflected, keep smiling. Nod. Be polite. That's what her agent told her.

But then the host goes, "Okay, a lot of people have been sending us this question, Sabina. What are you looking for in a man?"

"Oh." Sabina grins and clasps her hands together. "I'm not looking for one. Or a woman, for that matter. I'm bi, you see."

As soon as the interview ends, Sabina thanks the crew through gritted teeth and leaves as fast as her heels can take her, Tristan hot on her trail.

"Calm down," he tells her, matching her pace, putting one hand on her back. "You have a meeting with Miller in fifteen but you gotta calm down, honey."

"It's infuriating," Sabina growls under her breath, pulling open the passenger door.

Tristan scrambles to the driver's seat. Sabina pulls on her seatbelt with much more force than necessary, mumbling, "Stupid fucking males. The transphobia reeked, Jesus Christ—"

"Kyle." Tristan leans over, takes the seatbelt from her claws, and puts it on gently. He keeps his face close to hers when it clicks, and he murmurs, "You did great."

"I know I did," Sabina says, rolling her eyes.

He half-smiles and kisses her lips. "I know it's infuriating, but there's nothing you can do if he's a piece of shit, okay? It's a victory you didn't punch him in the fucking face."

The model huffs. "I would if I weren't on camera."

He brushes his thumb across her cheek and smiles. "I know. I would, too."

"Good. Question. What are your thoughts on abortion?"

Tristan doesn't miss a beat, but he blinks, taken aback. "Uh, not my body, not my choice." He sucks in a breath and his blue eyes widen. "Are you—"

"No!" Sabina almost shouts, laughing, but also feeling her chest grow warmer and calmer. He exhales heavily. "I just needed to know, because I can't date a man who thinks he has the right to tell me what to do with my body. Thank you." She cups his jaw and kisses him. "I'm so glad."

"Glad I'm a decent human being and that you don't have to break up with me?" Tristan scoffs and leans back to his seat, starting the engine. "The bar is so fucking low. Don't thank me."

Sabina bites her lip and stares at hand gripping her thigh.

"Oh, God." Tristan laughs out loud as he pulls out of his parking space. "You're thinking about how big my dick is, right?"

Sabina grins. "I'm a very easy woman to please, Bishop."

He grins back at her. "That's a lot of shit, but my genitals certainly do help. Ah, after your meeting with Miller, we're going to Speedo for your swimsuit photoshoot." His eyes twinkle when he glances at her. "I'm excited to watch."

"Shut up," Sabina says, laughing, and then her stomach growls. It's nearing lunchtime and her day is packed. She pouts and looks at her boyfriend. "I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" He glances at her with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, how many minutes 'til you get cranky? Again?"

Sabina pretends to think about it. "Ten. Fifteen."

Tristan shakes his head, mouth curling up at the corners. "We'll grab food on the way to Speedo after Miller, okay?"

Sabina nods, brings his hand to her mouth, and kisses it. "You're disgustingly cute."

"You're a brat, but thanks. You too."

*

While Sabina's package includes Andy and Mary Jane, Tristan's package includes 'the boys'.

She already knew she liked Tristan a lot. She just didn't know how much until she got up early in the morning on a weekend, cranky and grumpy until they got her some coffee, to watch him play football with his friends.

Actually, she's not watching the game. She doesn't know shit about football. Her boyfriend is shirtless with a ball cap on his head, and he's sweating. Sabina swings her legs from where she's sitting on a bench and trails her eyes down his body. She thinks losing sleep is a bit worth it.

When he comes over, panting and downing a bottle of water, Sabina shamelessly runs her hands down his abs, licking her lips like she's in a candy store.

"Whoa, hey." Tristan almost sputters out his drink, grabbing her wrist with wide eyes. "We're not alone, Kyle."

"Kiss." Sabina pulls on his arm.

Tristan grins, leans down, and cups her cheek in his hand.

"You're hot when you play," she whispers in his mouth, looping her arms around his neck, pressing deeper.

Tristan's other hand reaches up to switch his ball cap around, so the rim faces the other way. He kisses her again. "You think I'm hot all the time."

His friends were whistling behind them. Tristan and Sabina both throw them a middle finger.

And then on another weekend, they watch a game in her apartment—in Sabina's apartment.

"Why does it have to be my apartment?" Sabina scowled, the night before, when Tristan asked. They were naked in her sheets and she's still recovering from post-orgasm and then he sprung this up on her.

Tristan grinned, squeezing her side. "Because you have a flat screen. And they like you a lot. You won't come otherwise."

"I watched you guys play."

"It's different to play and to watch an actual football game." He curled his hand around her neck, leaning forward. "Please," he whispered. "I'll go to your stupid triple date and dress up for Halloween, too."

"That's tradition already."

"Then I'll go shopping and bowling with you after the game and we can get our nails done."

"Deal." Sabina kissed him. "Tell them to bring their own food, I'm not feeding four other dogs."

So the boys walk in like it's their place, bringing chips and drinks and yelling like cavemen.

"Hey, Sab!" Isaac greets, grabbing her into a one-arm hug, and a chorus of her name breaks out (they do this whenever they see her), and Everett and Jayden kiss her cheek, and Asher ruffles her hair before they completely take over her couch and living room and flat screen TV.

"Boys," Sabina mutters, rolling her eyes and smoothing down her hair.

"Thank you," Tristan murmurs in her ear, quickly giving her a kiss on the forehead before he goes to join them.

Sabina sits on the couch, unimpressed, and cuddles up next to her boyfriend.

And again, she doesn't know shit about football. She looks at Tristan, watching his eyes grow bigger, mouth dropping open as he focuses on the screen. Sabina doesn't like watching football anymore—he doesn't give her any of his attention.

She moves closer to him, tucking her legs against her chest and pressed up to his side, and leans on his shoulder. Tristan puts a hand on her leg and strokes down her skin, eyes not leaving the screen.

It's impossible to get what's going on. She sighs, bored, but when the boys jump up suddenly and cheer, Tristan howls, raising his arms above his head. Startled, Sabina cheers, too.

He looks at her, smiles, and kisses her on the mouth.

Oh. So getting his attention and watching football is easy. It's all about cheering when your boyfriend and his dudes cheer. Sabina can do this girlfriend thing, no problem.

On Halloween, Sabina is all leather. She's wearing a cropped off-shouldered top and leather jeans that make her ass look immaculate, and hot red pumps that give a few inches to her height. Her dark hair is curled in waves, and she's finishing up her makeup when Tristan comes out of the bathroom and says, "Okay, so why do you bother with costumes every year? Why is this Halloween thing a tradition?"

Sabina looks at him from the mirror and whistles. "Oh, hello, Danny Zuko."

This year, Sabina is going as Sandy Olsson from Grease. Naturally, Tristan is going as Danny Zuko, and although the fucking movie is sexist, Sabina loves the looks.

"Hello yourself." Tristan's black shirt and skinny jeans are tight on him. Sabina can't wait to take them off after tonight. His eyes rake from her head to toe, mouth curling.

Sabina grins and twirls around. "Slutty enough? Are you going to tell me to change?"

"No. Dress slutty. I can fight."

She rolls her eyes and laughs, turning around to finish her makeup, bending over her desk. Tristan catches that and leans back to get a better view. "It's a tradition because our first night out together as roommates was on Halloween. Andy was a freshman, MJ was a sophomore, and I was a junior, and we got drunk and wasted and high, and MJ and I kissed, and now every year we have to dress up, party, and take a pic."

Tristan stands straight, shoving his hands inside his jeans pockets. "So you really take this seriously. Like, the girls plan this and the costumes and the guys have to go through with it."

"Yes," Sabina mutters, winking at him in the mirror. "We plan the costumes August, but we can't tell each other what we're going as because we want it to be a surprise. Last year, I went as Cruella De Vil, you remember, right?"

"Yeah. I can't believe you wore that shit, acted drunker than you were, and plopped your ass on my lap because you thought it would piss me off."

Sabina grins at him. "Did it?"

"I also wanted to bend you over the table and fuck you until you cried."

"And you did."

His smile is devilish. "I know. Want a repeat?"

Sabina pushes him away when he tries to get close. "Later. Can you grab my phone and tell my friends we're on the way? You know my passcode."

Tristan sits on her bed and types it in. "So, what, dinner first and then club after, right? What about the paparazzi?"

"Well, I'm with my bodyguard."

"Kyle."

"And I'm on a night out with my friends, nothing suspicious about that. You ready?"

Tristan stands, covers her neck with his palm and brushes his finger against her lips, eyes piercing blue.

"We're going," Sabina says firmly, slapping his hand away, giving him a stern look, "before we do anything that will make us late. Halloween's important to us, Bishop, 'kay?"

"Clearly." He scoffs, grabs his phone and keys and wallet, wraps an arm around her shoulder, and then they're out the door.

Andy is in white—she's in a white dress with wings, hair braided like a halo, smiling widely and waving her hand, dragging Rhysand behind her. Her husband is dressed as a knight in silver, dark hair falling across his eyes, face tight in embarrassment.

Sabina crosses her legs together and laughs out loud. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

Tristan follows her line of sight, draping an arm around her shoulder. "What? Am I supposed to know what their costumes are?"

"Rhysand, you fucking whipped bitch." Sabina's smile widens. "Baz Luhrmann's 1996 Romeo and Juliet. Hm. Fitting."

As soon as the couple is settled, Rhysand glares at Sabina. "Sabina."

"Harton." She tips her chin toward his get-up. "You look nice for a Romeo. Just smile a bit more and you can nail the part."

"Don't tease him, Sab," Andy warns, leaning over to kiss her husband on the cheek. "No bad vibes today, okay?"

Sabina mimes taking a gun out of her pocket and tossing it aside, raising her palms in defense.

"You too, baby," Andy tells Rhysand.

"I didn't say shit," Rhysand begins to argue.

Andy purses her lips at him. "You were about to. Go, put down your weapon."

He narrows his eyes at Sabina, who smiles sweetly back at him. With a gruntled sigh, he reaches down to his ankle and pretends to take a gun out of its holster.

Andy's eyebrow raises at Sabina. "All of them, please."

Sabina rolls her eyes and unsheathes an invisible knife from her thigh.

Finally, she smiles, nodding. "That's better. Thank you." To Sabina's boyfriend, eyes shining, Andy says, "Hi! It's so nice to see you again, Tristan."

MJ and Adrian arrive together as Starfire and Robin. Sabina whistles while they settle in. "That purple dress is skimpy as shit."

"Your top is slutty as hell," MJ says, blowing her a kiss. "Looking good, Rhys. You too, Tristan."

They know they can't get wasted on empty stomachs, so as soon as they hit the club with a booth by the VIP section, loud and hot and sweat-smelling, crowded with people in costumes and flashing lights, Sabina, MJ, and Andy knock back tequila and shots with lime wedges.

"Pass 'em, pass 'em!" Sabina shouts, offering them to the boys.

"I'm driving," Rhysand says. Adrian tips his head back and drinks his.

"You're always fucking driving, get loose, bitch!" Sabina yells, thrusting the glass in his face.

"C'mon, baby!" Andy giggles, taking the glass from Sabina and offering it to him. "We can ask Sabina to take us home or we can sleep at her place!"

Yup. Sabina saw this coming, so she asked her driver to come in tonight (he said he doesn't have plans).

Finally, with some reluctance, Rhysand downs his shot. Their friends all cheer.

Behind her, Tristan curls his hand around Sabina's waist and orders a whiskey sour. "Don't go crazy," he whispers in her ear, his other hand sliding down to her bottom to squeeze harshly.

"Sorry, honey." Sabina takes another glass, captures his chin in her hand and turns his head around to plant a hard kiss on his lips. "It's Halloween."

Over at the packed dance floor, the DJ yells, "Where are all my single ladies at?"

Sabina pushes away from Tristan. "Where's my whore? MJ, come over here bitch, let's fucking dance! Andy, angel, you too!"

So they leave their men by the bar, MJ says she'll dance with Adrian later and Sabina will force Tristan to dirty dance with her later, too, but right now, Sabina's dancing with her sisters.

The songs change quick, and Sabina's body doesn't lose rhythm with the music. MJ, too, and Andy—Andy's not a dancer, but she's smiling, face glowing, jumping around and moving her hips, and she wasn't like this back in college. She'd sit at their booth and watch MJ and Sabina by herself, and, huh. Rhysand isn't totally useless after all.

"You happy with Tristan?" MJ yells, bobbing her head up and down, raising her arms in the air.

"Shut up!" Sabina says, laughing. "We're not talking boys!"

"That's all we ever fucking do!" the redhead shouts.

"I love you both!" Andy yells, swaying her hips from side to side. "Sab, I'm so happy we can triple date! I really thought it was gonna be Jenner, but Tristan's amazing, too!"

"Everyone, quiet and dance!" Sabina orders, and then they dance some more until MJ is swaying and panting, digging her nails onto Sabina's arm, breathing, "I need a drink."

"Good call, me too!"

They hold hands, and Sabina finds Andy's hand, and they weave across the sweaty bodies in their ridiculously high heels, body still thrumming with adrenaline.

But then Sabina's entire face grows sour when she sees a woman scribbling something on Tristan's arm.

"Sab," MJ warns behind her.

"Oh, hell, no." Sabina yanks her hands away from her friends, stalks toward her boyfriend, and plops herself on his lap.

Tristan gasps in surprise, but his hands fall to her waist. "Kyle," he breathes.

Sabina barks at the woman. She scurries away.

Tristan is hiding his face in her shoulder, laughing. "Fucking hell."

"I can't leave you alone for a damn second." She encircles his neck with her hand and kisses him hard. "I'll rip your arm off, you know that, right?"

He smiles against her mouth and squeezes her thigh. "She took it without my permission."

Sabina threads her fingers in his hair and orders another shot. When she's done, she drags Tristan to the dance floor, clinging to his arm.

His hands are on her waist, solid chest pressed against her back. His fingertips are brushing the waistband of her leather jeans, breath hot in her ear. "You drive me crazy."

"That's the goal." Sabina tips her head back against his shoulder and sighs, moving her hips to the music. God, Tristan smells so good, he feels so good, all broad and hard and boyish. His fingers are spread over her lower belly, stroking her skin.

They're not doing anything particularly sensual, they're just swaying against each other, Tristan's cheek pressed against her head. Sabina's holding his forearms as they sway.

And then the song changes, and Tristan's fingers twitch, slipping inside the waistband of her jeans.

Sabina's breath catches, and she moves her hands to his hair, dragging her nails across his scalp. And then she pushes her bottom to his front, and Tristan's fingernails scratch at her skin.

"Fuck," he breathes into her ear, moving his hips. "Sabina."

She grinds back harder at the grunt of her name on his lips. "Dance with me." Sabina turns her face to the side, noses at Tristan's throat, and sucks.

Their friends notice they snuck into the bathroom for quite a while, and Tristan's jeans are scrubbed with dirt on the knees, and they howl but can't say shit against them because Andy is currently straddling Rhysand on the couch and MJ and Adrian look messed up, like they just came from a private room.

They're all sex fiends. Sabina is proud.

"You're all crazy during Halloween," Tristan breathes with a laugh, biting Sabina's earlobe.

She grins. "Yep. It's our thing, Bishop. Get used to it. C'mon, I wanna fuck some more but we gotta drop these lightweights off first."

And it was in the car, while Andy was passed out drunk on Rhysand's shoulder, legs on Sabina's lap, that Tristan looks at the rearview mirror and smiles, eyes dazzling blue, and that—that simple thing, Sabina is certain Tristan has ruined her.

To her best friends, she says, "He'd be talking to me about his favorite book and I'd be thinking about making out with him and rubbing my ass on his groin."

"Ew," MJ says. "Not worth the mental image."

"It's not like you do it, too. You too, Andy, don't try to act like you're innocent, you're the kinkiest out of us three."

Andy sputters and blushes, choking on the cookie she's chewing. "I'm not!" she protests, shaking her head.

"Fine, Rhysand is. What I'm saying is: Tristan has ruined me. I can't do this secret relationship thing anymore."

She tries to tell him, one day, one evening after work, while he's scolding her for trying to kiss him in the office.

"We said we were going to be professionals," he continues, loosening his tie and tossing it on the bed. His eyes are hard as he sits on the edge of the mattress. "I can't be your boyfriend at work, Kyle."

"Okay." Sabina grins. She kicks off her heels and steps closer to him.

"What if someone saw us? I'd be, I don't know, accused of sleeping my way to get ahead."

"Mm." Sabina takes off her blazer, tosses it aside on the floor, and pulls her blouse over her head—well, it's not so much of a blouse as it is a sheer bustier that only covers her breasts. She watches Tristan's eyes narrow.

"It's risky and reckless and your doors are glass," he continues to bite out. "Please, can you be more careful?"

Sabina is only half-listening. "Mm," she hums again, unbuttoning her slacks.

"Are you even listening to me? Stop undressing. You can't use your body every time to get out of a serious talk."

Her smile grows wider. "Sorry, you have a stick up your ass and I think I'm gonna have to remove it."

He raises an eyebrow at her and leans back, spreading his legs. "You know, you've been smiling a lot lately. People might say you're in a horribly good mood because you've been getting laid a lot."

"They won't be wrong," Sabina teases, finally walking over to him. Her hands run themselves over his shoulders and neck, against the strands of his sandy blonde hair. Tristan's palms remain on the mattress, but his eyes don't leave hers. "But you know I want you for more than just your body."

"Yeah, you want my cooking skills because you can't do shit in the kitchen." His gaze roams over her face when she rolls her eyes, and then his voice drops its teasing tone, and his finger reaches up to trace her cheekbone gently when he murmurs, "You know I've been waiting for those smiles?"

Sabina's cheekbones hurt. She stares at him. "Huh?"

He makes a noise that's between a scoff and a laugh, and he drops his hand, tilting his head back, like what he's about to say is going to sound ridiculous. "My first day at work," he starts, furrowing his brow, "I smiled at you."

Sabina doesn't remember. "And?"

"And you didn't smile back, and I feel like you've been carrying that smile in your pocket ever since," he whispers, finally meeting her eyes again, and his mouth curves on one corner. "And now I feel like we're even. Finally. And all it took was a lot of sex."

When Tristan is afraid to say something out loud, he almost always resorts to teasing, because their bodies are something they can control. Their bodies are familiar with each other, and Sabina knows this, Sabina knows what he's trying to say, and it—he is ruining her.

She grabs the back of his neck and pushes forward, capturing his lips in a deep and hard kiss. Tristan grunts in surprise, and then his hands fly up to her little waist, fingers gripping bones and skin and places where they belong. Sabina pulls back once, tilting her head, and Tristan lets out a shuddering exhale, and she leans in again to brush her mouth over his, thinking, in her loud and muddled thoughts, that she's had three years to get used to Tristan's face, about two years to get used to his body, a few months to get used to his mind, and Sabina can learn all his muscles and expressions and the ways in which he smiles and the sounds he makes when he laughs or when he's overwhelmed with pleasure, but there's no way to do that with his heart.

With a terrifying, terrifying shudder that runs through her body, Sabina thinks she wants to. She wants his heart.

Ruined.

"You're dangerous," Tristan breathes against her lips, hands on her hips, fingers leaving their mark, saying the words Sabina wants to say. "You're dangerous, because when you kiss me, it feels like you love me."

He ruined her, he's ruining her.

"I've seen what love does to a person," Sabina says in shortened breaths, barely pulling her head back an inch, pressing their foreheads together. Her thumbs say hello to his cheeks, pressing into his stubble, prickling the pad of skin. "To my dad. To MJ. Andy and Rhys? Those two may be married, but Andy was—God. She was hurting, she was hurting." Sabina inhales shakily, sliding her hands down to his neck, feeling his pulse thrum and throb beneath her fingers. She wants that. She wants it, she wants it, she wants it—"You're not going to do that to me. I won't let you. I won't let myself be hurt by you."

Tristan hears what she's afraid to say, because he turns his head, presses a kiss to her palm on his cheek, and says, "Get dressed. I need to show you something."

It doesn't take long before Sabina figures out he's driving towards his condominium building. When he parks, Sabina takes her time looking around the place. Is that your regular cafe across the street, Tristan? Have you walked at that park with someone? This is where you buy your groceries, right?

He reaches out with his hand, and Sabina takes it as they wait for the elevator. She's been here before, but she's never been here feeling this awful uncertainty, this nausea, like she's about to throw up.

At his door, he faces her with a deep breath and drops his hand. His face is unreadable. "I'm not sure yet if this is love," he murmurs, eyes piercing. "And I won't know until I'm honest with you."

"You're scaring me," Sabina admits, swallowing hard.

His lips twitch. He cups her cheek and strokes her skin quickly, and then his hand drops, and Sabina's face burns.

Tristan takes his keys out and pushes it in the lock. He opens the door and steps aside. "Come in."

The unit is small, as she expected. It's packed—like the kitchen, living room, and bedroom were all sandwiched together. Sabina looks at one room and there's another one right next to it, and there's a flurry of color all around the floors, the countertops, the surfaces—Sabina spots Tristan's orange lunchbox near the sink. There are dishes left unwashed, and bowls with dinosaur prints on the coffee table, and there are clothes hanging on a rack near the couch, next to the ironing board. Normal-sized clothes and—and small clothes. There's a bottle of milk sitting alone near the stack of books. It's quiet except for the muffled sound of the television coming from somewhere down the hall.

Tristan is watching her face.

And Sabina knows she can't hide anything on it, but surprisingly, her face stays relaxed as she swallows thickly, hesitantly moving around the small space.

"It's a mess," she says.

"I know." He looks down at his shoes, and then, with a loud voice, he calls, "Brandon?"

Sabina's lips part. Tristan keeps his eyes on hers when he says, "Brand, can you come out here for a sec?"

The bedroom door opens with a creak and—who is that breathing thing?

He looks like him. He's got Tristan's eyes, and Tristan's blonde hair, and he's small, so small. He's wearing blue pajamas, and his steps are small, so slow, and Sabina's breath is in her throat when he finally reaches him, and Tristan bends down, picks him up, and holds him against his hip. Like it's routine, like he's used to it, like he does this every morning, every afternoon, every night.

"This is Brandon," Tristan says, eyes fixed on Sabina's face. "He's mine."

The child puts his arms around Tristan's neck, blue eyes wide and blinking and looking at Sabina.

Tristan has one of those little people, Tristan has a child. "Tristan."

He ignores her and turns toward the kid. "Brand, this is Sabina. What do you say when you meet new people?"

His voice is different, too. The kid blinks at her. And then, quietly, in his little voice, he says, "Hi."

Tristan smiles and kisses his cheek. Then he puts him down, and Tristan kneels so he's on the same level as him. "Okay, buddy. You can go back to your TV but no staying up past nine, okay? Your aunt's asleep?"

"She always is," the child answers quietly, nodding.

"She's tired," Tristan says. His hand reaches out to brush his little hair, but he's smiling, he's still smiling. "You brush your teeth?"

Brandon nods.

"Good boy." He turns him around by the shoulder. "Okay, go back inside."

Sabina watches Tristan watch him walk back to the bedroom in his little, slow steps.

When he turns around to face her again, he says, "He's mine, but he's actually my nephew. Ian and I are raising him. He's our eldest brother's son, but he and his wife died recently—uh, that time I resigned. Yeah. And Brandon has no one left, our parents—his grandparents—they're too busy with the farms and they can't look at Brand without crying, and Ian is busy with her job, she stays here when she can, but I—I'm practically raising him, it's just the two of us here. And June is the babysitter, she's in college. And Brandon's birthday was just a few days ago, I took the day-offs then."

Sabina stares at the door that Brandon just closed. "Your brother died?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you." He takes a shaky breath. "They were in a car crash, Brand was the only one who survived. His name was Grayson, and my sister-in-law's name was Julie, we called her Jules, she was disowned by her family years ago. And, uh, Brand...he's seven years old, and I need to take care of him."

Sabina turns around to look at him blankly. "You have a kid."

Tristan nods once. "I wanted a stable relationship first before I told you, I didn't know you'd be—you'd be that person for me, I didn't know you'd be willing to do the relationship thing with me. But I couldn't just—I couldn't just introduce him to someone who wasn't going to be a sure part of my life. He comes first, Sabina. He comes first now. To me."

Of course he does. Sabina takes a deep breath and nods. "Okay. I'm overwhelmed about all of this and I need a second to think."

Tristan stares at her. "Sabina," he breathes, shutting his eyes closed. "Don't—don't run from me."

"I'm not. I'm just really..." Sabina exhales heavily and rubs her forehead. "Surprised. And I know why you waited to tell me, I understand that, I don't hold it against you. I'm just—I didn't expect this. And I—I'm overwhelmed, and I need some space. We are going to talk about this, I'm not running. Tristan, do you hear me?"

His eyes don't leave her own. "Okay."

Sabina swallows hard and asks, "Is it okay if I tell Andy and MJ? Or is this something I have to keep to myself?"

Tristan shakes his head. "It's okay. It was just something I had to keep from you."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow." She kisses his cheek, hugs herself, and leaves.