Rhysand drives Sabina home.

Andy has to stay back for an important appointment, but she sends her off with a kiss on the cheek and a bone-crushing hug.

In the car, Sabina looks out the window, and then suddenly, the glass moves down, and Sabina's hit in the face with a gush of wind.

Rhysand doesn't look at her, and Sabina doesn't look at him. She just exhales heavily and props her elbow on it, sticking her face out and closing her eyes.

The drive is faster than she'd like. When they arrive near apartment, it's not a surprise to Sabina to see Tristan's Dodge outside, and him pacing in front of it, phone in his hand.

Sabina pulls her head back and leans against the seat, sighing. Rhysand pulls the window back up and says, "I can turn around."

His voice is startling in the quiet. Sabina glances at his side profile and mutters, "I'll just hide in your house if you do."

"Isn't that why you have a room?" he counters dryly, turning his head to look at her. He's slowing the car down, giving her time to make a decision.

Sabina stares at him and raises an eyebrow. "You're not going to punch him in my stead if I say I don't wanna turn around, right?"

Rhysand looks deadly serious when he asks flatly, "Do you want me to?"

She manages a laugh. "That's embarrassing and annoying."

His mouth twitches. "I'm a grown man, Sabina. I don't punch people anymore. You do, apparently. And if you look this ugly, I don't want to know what his sister looks like."

Sabina's lips curve. "You proud?"

He doesn't look at her. "I don't condone violence, Sabina."

"You are."

"Shut up. We're here."

Tristan raises his head once they're approaching, eyes sore and red, and his expression makes Sabina's chest feel heavier. So she doesn't look at him, and she takes off her seatbelt while Rhysand parks the car. "Thanks for the tea, old man."

"You're making me regret it. Go inside," he drawls.

Sabina grabs her bag and opens the door. Tristan's already walking towards her. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours," he says quietly, eyes angry, darting between her and Rhysand's car. "And you can't just decide we're over when you want to be over, that's not how this fucking works."

"I needed space considering the shit that's happened." Sabina brushes past him, heading to her front door. "Come in if you want to talk."

With a sigh, he follows after her.

Rhysand leaves once she's inside.

Sabina kicks off her shoes, tosses her bag on the couch, and rounds the kitchen for a glass of water. Tristan puts his palms on the counter and tightens his jaw, watching her. "I don't like that you ran out on me, Sabina. We're supposed to talk to each other, we're supposed to communicate—"

"Jeez, Tristan, what else was I supposed to do after I just punched your younger sister?" Sabina asks curiously, putting more force to closing her drawer than necessary. Her glass makes a noise when she puts it down, and she moves past him to grab the pitcher from her refrigerator. "And she just told me I was infesting her house and family with my evilness and absurd hatred for Brandon and for children?"

"Okay, stop," Tristan breathes, bowing and shaking his head. "Stop, Sabina, stop for a second."

She drinks her water and puts it down, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. She shrugs and says, "I couldn't possibly hang around for a heart-to-heart with you after that, could I? After all, I don't have one."

"Shut up," he snaps. "Just...shut up with the sarcasm for one second. I'm..." He exhales shakily, raising his head, and when Sabina meets his eyes, her breath catches at finding them filled with tears. "One thing at a time, please. Please, let's fix this. I love you and I want to fix this."

Sabina stares at him. Her heart feels like it's too big for her ribcage. "You love me even though I had that abortion?"

"I don't care you had one," he answers quietly. "It's not my body and it's not my choice."

"Yes, you're right, it's not your choice," Sabina seethes. "But see, that's what you keep telling me, but you do care. You do care because you told Ian," she breathes, gritting her teeth to keep her eyes dry. "You told Ian and she judged me. She hates me, and Tristan, I don't care if people hate me. I really don't, fuck 'em, I don't have time for anyone's shit. But it's sad I do care what Ian thinks because she's your sister, and if she hated me before," she laughs, "well, I bet if I needed surgery right now, she'd let me die on the table."

"That's not true."

Sabina scoffs. "Sure."

"I'm sorry I told her," Tristan murmurs, swallowing thickly. "It wasn't my place, and I'm sorry. I only did it because she was worried about Brandon, and she was asking about marriage, and—and having kids with you, and I said you don't want kids, and—"

"And somehow, my choice to not want to be a mother has everything to do with my blatant loathing for Brandon," Sabina continues quietly. "And my disrespect to you. Because you're just my sex toy, and I'm going to ask you to toss out Brandon and make you choose between him and me."

"Sabina."

"Tristan." She stares at him hard. "I know I'm not the most ideal partner to have around Brandon. You could have nicer, kinder, sweeter, great with kids, wants them—but instead, I'm me, and by some miracle, you say you love me. So I'm not the most ideal adult to be around your son, but I'm trying, and it's not easy, but I am."

He stares at her. His jaw ticks, and he whispers, "I know."

"And I know it's not intentional, but, shit." Sabina's face scrunches up, and she squeezes her eyes shut, and whispers, "Tristan, you make me feel like a horrible person sometimes."

He's quiet. Sabina doesn't want to look at him.

"I don't want to be a mother," she says firmly, voice stable. "I don't. But I love you, and I care about Brandon, and I don't know where to go from here yet, but I want to figure it out with you. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. If it does, then it does. Whichever the case, I don't just enjoy a good fucking, Tristan. But apparently, I did not make that clear enough." She inhales shakily. "And I'm sorry I hurt Ian, I am. I understand she's your family and she's Brandon's family, and I'm just some bitchy bimbo you're taking home. But I'm not sorry, nor will I ever be sorry for standing up for myself when she disrespected me—that, I will never apologize for. To you or to her."

The silence is maddening. Sabina keeps her eyes closed.

And then she hears footsteps, and suddenly she feels warmth, and Tristan's standing in front of her, almost chest to chest. "Can I..." he inhales a quick breath. "Can I touch you?"

He's asking for permission. Sabina nods.

His hands touches hers, and Sabina's breath catches in her throat. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Her hands enveloped in his, he brings them up to his face. They shake when they touch his skin. It's wet. "Sabina," he breathes, and it sounds and feels like a prayer when her fingers brush his lips, "I'm sorry."

"I can't look at you and I can't talk without my voice breaking, my heart's doing this weird fucking thing like it's being smashed," Sabina mutters, squeezing her eyes shut, breath staggering.

"Okay." Tristan turns her around gently. With her back to him, she opens her eyes slowly, registering the light, until she sees that Tristan's offered his hands to her, stretching them out from behind her. "It's my turn to talk. So can you," he starts, taking a deep breath, "can you just listen and touch my fingers if you still love me after every thing I say?"

Sabina gives him a nod, staring at the wall.

"Okay." He sniffles, inhaling shakily. His breath fans the nape of her neck, and Sabina's whole body shivers. "I'm sorry for making you feel like a horrible person. I'm sorry I made you doubt yourself, I'm sorry I made you feel like you're not enough for me or for Brandon. I'm also sorry I told Ian something about you that wasn't my place to share."

Sabina swallows hard. She raises her hands, shaking, and wraps them around his pinky fingers.

Tristan takes another breath. "I don't want nicer or sweeter or people good with kids—wants them. I know you don't want to be a mother. I know you don't want children. And I want you, I love you, and I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to ask for it. For me to love you as you."

Slowly, Sabina touches his ring fingers.

"Thank you for trying so hard with Brandon," he whispers, leaning forward Sabina feels his chest on her back, and his head slumps down on hers. "I can't...I can't explain how much that means to me. Thank you for caring about him." He exhales. "Thank you for offering to pick him up, for letting him ride in your car, for bringing him to ice cream dates and lunch and dinner dates, for making him food, for playing with him and dancing with him and talking to him. Thank you for teaching me how to be a good parent, for being a good parent to him with me. For me."

God. She feels her chest crack as she moves to his middle fingers.

"Thank you for apologizing about hurting Ian, and I wasn't expecting you to apologize about standing up for yourself, either. You shouldn't. I'm sorry Ian hurt you, and disrespected and offended you. She has no say in this relationship other than you and I, and I know she comes from a good place in worry for Brandon, but it was out of line, and I talked to her already. And I'm sorry she made you cry, I made you cry—this whole thing hurt you."

Slowly, Sabina touches his forefingers.

He takes a sharp intake of breath. "I know you're not with me because of sex," Tristan whispers. "And you're not going to ask me to toss Brandon aside, or make me choose between you and him. And...you're my family, too, and I want to figure out where to go from here with you, too."

Tristan's hands are shaking. Sabina wraps her fingers around his thumbs.

His hands close around hers. "Can you turn around and look at me now?"

Sabina releases a long, heavy breath. She turns around.

Tristan looks ruined. As ruined as she is.

"We're not over," he murmurs, bringing his hands up to her face, stroking her skin.

Sabina stares at him and says, "No, I suppose not. Did you bandage her hand?"

"She bandaged it herself. Doctors are the worst patients," he mutters, staring back at her. His eyes are still glassy. "Does your jaw hurt?"

"Not anymore." Sabina swallows.

"Does your heart still feel like it's being smashed?" Tristan whispers.

"It loves someone," Sabina says, tilting her head to the side. "How can it not feel like it's being smashed?"

His mouth curves. "I love you too. I'm a little bummed I had to hear it first while you were screaming at my sister—while also mentioning my dick, thank you—but, ah, having your heart feel like it's being smashed makes up for it."

Sabina crushes herself to him and kisses him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body, and he catches her with a grunt, walking them forward to set her on the counter.

He groans in her mouth. "Sabina," he breathes.

"I need you," she whines, almost sobs, clawing at his chest, his skin. "I need you, Tristan, please."

She never imagined she'd need somebody like this. Not just want. Need.

Tristan kisses her deep. "I need you, too," he whispers, hands on her skin, burning it. "I need you, Sabina."

Ruined.

*

Cuddled on her bed, Sabina traces circles on Tristan's bare chest.

He runs his hand down her hair and murmurs, "I still can't believe you punched my sister."

Sabina clicks her tongue. "I'm a fighter, baby."

"Yeah." He chuckles. Leans down to kiss her temple. "Yeah, you are."

She bites her lip and looks at him. "I don't know where to go from here."

Tristan nods, exhaling. "Me too." He tucks her into his chest and whispers, "I don't want you to be miserable. Down the line. I don't want you to hate me for it, Sabina. I don't want you to hate Brandon, either."

Because it's possible she will. Sabina closes her eyes, plasters on a smile, and sits up. "C'mon, let's get some cereal."

His mouth curves, and he interlaces their fingers together. "Cereal. Okay."

In the kitchen, they stand side by side against the counter, bowls in their hands. Tristan is shirtless and Sabina's in nothing but his shirt, and they're both barefoot and they smell like each other. Sabina leans on Tristan's shoulder, licking her spoon. "I think I can do it," she murmurs.

He chews first before he answers, "Taking care of Brandon with me?"

"Mm." Sabina swallows hard. "I...it's the same thing we're doing right now, only I'll be more, I don't know, I'll hang out with him more without you. Plus, we have June and Ian, too. It won't be just us. Just me," she corrects herself, clearing her throat. "And I can learn the ropes with help."

Tristan puts his bowl down, but he doesn't face her. He looks at his feet, crosses his arms, and mutters sadly, "You don't want to do this, Sabina."

She bites down on her spoon and weakly argues, "Well, there's no other choice. I love you and I want to be with you, so that means loving and being with Brandon, too. If it works, then it works—we can be a happy family or some shit. If it doesn't..." Sabina inhales sharply, moving her cereal around in her bowl. "If it doesn't, then we can...I don't know. Something."

Tristan turns his head to look at her. Sabina can't read him. "Break up."

"Hey." She smiles. "On the bright side, Brandon can have a Mama who'll want him."

He stares at her, eyebrows furrowed. "You care about him, though. Right?"

"Yes. That still doesn't mean I want him to be my child."

He nods once. "I know. You're not obligated to want him, Sabina. Or even to love him."

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I know it would be so much easier if I could just want him and love him."

"You don't apologize for you, baby," Tristan murmurs, reaching out to cup her cheek. He gives her a gentle smile. "I know what I'm asking you to do. And honestly, the fact that you want to try even though I know it's paining you, because you love me..." He sucks in a deep breath and lets out a breathless laugh. "That, I am already grateful for."

It was a peaceful three in the morning eating cereal in the kitchen—until Sabina opens her mouth to respond, and her security code beeps rapidly and MJ barges in, seething.

"You asshole!" she yells, stomping into the kitchen, eyes drawn to her kill.

"Oh, God." Sabina backs off.

Tristan raises his hands in defense, and MJ pushes his chest with enough force to make him stumble back, back pressing into the wall. "Whoa, easy, MJ."

"Easy?" MJ repeats, murderous. She pushes him again with her palms, and Tristan's jaw tightens, still holding his hands up, and he looks at Sabina for help, but Sabina just shrugs and grins. Continues eating her cereal. "I heard you made her cry, bitchass."

"And I already apologized—" Tristan tries, but MJ raises her eyebrow, and he closes his mouth.

"I know she's a crazy motherfucker, but making her cry?" MJ scoffs. "I've never seen that ice woman cry over a boy in her fucking life, what the fuck did you do, huh?"

"I—"

"Stop talking, I'm not finished." MJ steps into his space, pushes her finger into his chest, and narrows her eyes at him. "Pull that shit again and I swear to God I will be having your genitals for dinner. Sliced open. You understand?"

Tristan sighs. He looks at Sabina. "Help over here, please?"

Sabina grins and puts down her bowl, pulling her best friend off of her boyfriend. "Okay, that was embarrassing, orange head."

"And you!" she twists to face Sabina, furious. "You didn't call me! What, am I invisible to you now?"

"Alright, drama queen, calm down." The older can't help her laugh, and she reaches out to hug her.

MJ huffs. "And that was embarrassing? That wasn't even half what you did to Adrian when we broke up."

Tristan raises his eyebrow at her. Sabina rubs MJ's back. "Be quiet."

"You almost punched him."

Sabina slaps her shoulder hard. MJ pulls back with a grunt, and Tristan says, incredulously, "You enjoy punching people for a living, honey?"

"I took boxing classes, shut up." Sabina takes MJ by the shoulder and steers her to the living room. "Okay, now that you're here, we'll watch a movie with my boyfriend and then you're going to crash because you look like hell."

MJ sniffles, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Bring me some popcorn, bitchass."

Tristan rolls his eyes. Sabina smiles and blows him a kiss, and she and MJ cuddle up on the couch.

*

"The team finished the drafts, they should be in your email," Tristan says, scrolling down his tablet. "You have your four o'clock with Ms. Van Doren for last week's numbers, and then a quick phone call with Mercy at four thirty, and I am invited for a drink later tonight at Randy's."

Sabina tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, now, see—that last part's not going to work. I need attention from my boyfriend and I haven't had it for the past week because of work, work, family, and guess what? Work."

He grins, putting his tablet down. "Well, you can blame my boss for that."

She hums, plopping her face on her fist. "Your boss sounds like a real bitch."

"She's about to be bitchier if she knew Harriett was the one who invited me."

Sabina loses her playful mood. She scowls. "Harriett who tried to shoot her shot for you a few days ago?"

Tristan nods once, tilting his head to the side. "Harriett who told me I was really cute and that she's nervous all the time around me and that she'd really like to take me out for dinner and asked me if I was free."

Sabina bares her teeth. "I'll bark at her."

Tristan laughs loudly. "Please don't. I still consider her a friend, and I already told her I was taken. It's just her birthday, and she was kind enough to extend the invitation to me."

"Fine," Sabina mutters, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, I don't care. Go to her stupid party."

"You're not picking a fight with me, baby."

"Yeah? Fuck you."

Tristan raises his eyebrow. "I will if you don't fix the attitude."

Sabina stares at him. "Oh. You—right now? 'Cause I'm down. Where do you want me?"

"I was—" He laughs again, shaking his head. "I was kidding."

"Oh." Sabina pouts, leaning back against her chair. "Well, I wasn't. But also, you know I was just whining for your attention, right? I'm not actually mad you're going to her party."

"I know." Tristan smiles and leans forward to kiss her cheek. "You're so cute."

"But tell her to back off if she tries anything or I'll do it myself. And I don't do it politely."

"I know." He winks at her. "Don't worry, babe. Is there anything else you need? I'll have to call June and ask her to pick up Brand."

"Oh." Sabina blinks, sitting up. "I can do that. We'll get dinner afterwards."

Tristan blinks, too. "Oh, sure, yeah. That works too. If you're not too exhausted."

Sabina smiles. "Nope. I know you were also planning on taking him grocery shopping this weekend, but I want to do that with him, too. If that's okay with you."

Tristan's mouth curves. He puts a palm on her desk and leans down, leveling his face with hers. "I love you," he whispers.

"Oh, don't go declaring your love for me when you're about to put on your charm for someone else," Sabina says, rolling her eyes. She pushes him off her desk and scoots forward. "Shoo. Be gone. Remember what I said."

"I'll text you," he says, chuckling as he turns around.

"Don't bother!" Sabina shouts, and she hears Tristan laugh again when he leaves her office. Sabina grins.

When she arrives at Brandon's school, she shuts off the engine and looks at herself in her rearview mirror, fixing her hair. With a heavy breath, she walks inside and waits with the other parents near his classroom.

She's the youngest one here. Sabina fiddles with her bag on her lap and scrunches her nose, and then, horrifyingly, the woman beside her turns to her. "Hi. I haven't seen you around here."

Sabina tries for a smile. She looks half Sabina's age. "Yeah, I'm just getting used to this whole thing."

"You do look young," the woman agrees, nodding. "Well, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Yana, by the way. Scott's my boy."

Sabina takes her hand, swallowing hard. "Sabina. And, um, Brandon's mine."

Her stomach flips at the words. Sabina swallows the bitterness in her mouth down.

The woman's eyes widen. "Oh, I see his father a lot, Tristan. And wow, you're both so young."

Sabina smiles again, chest sinking. "Yeah."

When the bell rings, and the kids come out, Sabina waits near the door, and Brandon shuffles outside after all his classmates have gone through, fiddling with his jacket and bag.

"Brandon," Sabina says, grinning out of instinct, dropping down on her knees to open her arms.

Brandon's entire face brightens. "Sabina!"

He runs to her, and Sabina almost falls when he slams his small body into hers, but she tightens her arms around him and squeezes tight. "Hey, baby. How was school?"

"Boring." The kid pulls back, smiling toothily, jumping up and down on his feet. "Where's Papa?"

"Papa's busy today, so it's just you and I." Sabina gently takes his jacket from him, untangling the straps of his bag to its sleeves, and ruffles his hair. "Is that okay? We can get dinner at you favorite pizza place."

Brandon's blue eyes widen. "Can I get soda, too?"

Sabina smiles, putting his jacket on him and smoothening down the cloth. She holds up one finger. "One glass. Deal?"

"Deal!" Brandon takes her hand, and they leave the school.

In the car, Brandon's swinging his little legs, playing with his seatbelt. "Papa and I talked about you last night."

Sabina glances at him. "Yeah, buddy?"

"He said he loves you a lot," he continues, looking at her with his big, blue eyes. "And he said I should be nice to you."

Sabina exhales and grins at him. "You should. I'm giving you soda. What else did he say?"

"He said you make him happy."

Sabina bites her lip.

"And Teacher also asked about family today. And I said that Mommy and Daddy were in heaven. One of the bullies didn't believe me." Brandon pouts at this. "And I told her I'll sue her. And then I said my Papa, my Auntie, Junie, and Sabina take care of me, and I love them a lot."

Sabina's breath catches. She reaches out to cover his hand with hers. "Stop playing with your seatbelt, Brand, it's for your safety, okay?"

Brandon stops immediately, pinning his hands under his thighs. "Do you love my Papa, Sabina?"

Sabina nods. "Mm. I love him a lot, sweetie."

"More than I do?" he challenges.

"Yes." Sabina gives him the stink eye. "He's mine. But Papa said we can share him, so we'll share him. Okay?"

"Okay." Brandon grins. "But he loves me more."

"No he doesn't," Sabina says quickly, defending herself. "He loves us both."

"Fine. I want pineapple on my pizza."

"Ew."

"Ew," Brandon mocks. "You're pretty today."

"I'm pretty every day, but thank you." Sabina ruffles his hair with one hand, turning the corner. "You're pretty handsome yourself. You take after your Papa."

"Papa's pretty," he mutters, looking out the window.

"Yes, he is." Sabina parks the car, and she leans over to take off his seatbelt. "Okay, buddy, let's go get some of your disgusting pizza and soda."

Tristan texts her while his kid's in the middle of munching his fries. How's it going?

Sabina wipes her fingers with a napkin and smiles, typing her response. both alive and well, thank u very much. She pulls up her camera and takes a picture of Brandon, and sends it to Tristan. [Attachment: 1 picture]. he eats pineapple on pizza, ew

His chat bubbles appear. Pineapple hater. he's so cute, I miss him already

ehem

And my beautiful girlfriend, too, of course. :) We're just getting drinks now, and update: Harriett has not made a move on me :)

Sabina's smile widens. the night is still young. have fun :*

I will. I love you

You're disgusting. bye

>:(

Sabina rolls her eyes. fine whatever ugh i love u too :///

:D

She puts down the phone with the dumbest smile on her face, and reaches over with a napkin to wipe Brandon's lips smeared with ketchup. "Slow down, bud. The food's not going anywhere."

In his unit, after dinner, Sabina joins the kid in watching his cartoon show while they wait for his father. Brandon dutifully brushed his teeth and dressed in his pajamas, and he's sipping apple juice while cuddled up next to Sabina on the couch.

Sabina strokes his blonde hair, not paying attention to the TV. "Brand, are you good to your Papa?"

He hums, distracted. "I don't throw tantrums anymore because that's for babies, and I'm not a baby, I'm a big boy, Papa said so. And I pick up the newspaper as my big boy chore in the mornings, and I drink my milk and eat my veggies. I go to bed when Papa tells me to." He blinks at her. His drink makes a loud slurping noise. "I'm a good boy."

"Yes you are." Sabina smiles at him and kisses his head. "Okay. Be good to him, okay?"

"Okay." He scoots further up the couch, nestling into Sabina's warmth, and Sabina focuses on the television.

She doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until a gentle tap wakes her. "Hey, Kyle. Wake up."

Sabina's eyes register the light before Tristan. He's wearing a smile, kneeling over her on the couch, and he's taken off his jacket and his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt are open. Sabina sits up and rubs her eyes. "Mm. You're back," she croaks.

"Yeah," he whispers, running a hand down her cheek. "You and Brand passed out here. You okay?"

Sabina nods. She looks to her left and there the kid is, sound asleep, juice box empty and discarded on the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't realize," Sabina whispers, shaking her head. "I was supposed to bring him to bed if you weren't home by nine, but I fell asleep, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Tristan smiles at her. "Thank you for staying with him."

Sabina smiles at him, too. She watches her boyfriend pick up his son as gently as he possibly can, and brings him to his room.

When he comes back, he sits next to her on the couch, and Sabina tucks her legs up and leans on his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent. He smells like alcohol. "How'd it go?" she asks sleepily.

"You're not going to punch Harriett. Or bark at her," he assures her, kissing the top of her head.

"I hate you," she mutters.

"No, you don't." He grins. "You wanna crash?"

Sabina nods once. "Mm. Carry me, too."

Tristan barks out a laugh, but he stands up, anyway. "I have two babies to take care of."

Sabina smiles and wraps his arms around his neck when he carries her, and she presses a kiss to his throat as he moves to his room. "Brand said you told him I make you happy. That's kinda embarrassing, Bishop."

He huffs out another laugh, opening his door. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Tristan tosses her on the bed, and Sabina squeals, and she slaps a hand to her mouth as soon as the sound leaves her lips, eyes wide. "Babe! Brandon's asleep!"

"You said to make you," he tells her, crawling up the bed on all fours, eyes glinting. "So you better be quiet this time, okay?"

"God, you're horny."

"Around you, how can I not be?" He pops open the buttons of her blouse, pressing his mouth to hers, opening it with his tongue. He cups her neck with his palm, eyes boring into hers.

"Fuck me," Sabina whispers, wrapping her legs around him.

"As you wish," he whispers back, pinning her to the bed.

Sabina bites a pillow. Now that will make her quiet.

*

i lov u all