Sabina usually doesn't barge in on any of her friend's homes like this: frantic, short of breath, mind running a hundred miles per hour, car parked horrendously outside the gate. She doesn't barge in at all, actually.

And there are things she doesn't want to see in her lifetime—and one of them is Andy on Rhysand's lap with his back against the headboard, hands running up and down her sides, kissing sounds.

Granted, it's their home and their bed, but Sabina needs to talk to her friends, and she has to be in the company of her friends, and she's not going to MJ because MJ won't understand—she's had an amazing family all her life and she has amazing and supportive parents who love her and went to therapy with her and let her take a gap year—she doesn't understand a broken family and Sabina needs someone who has a broken family.

Like her. Like Andy.

"I need to talk to you," she says, holding the door wide open.

Andy has become less and less flustered and embarrassed whenever she's caught being intimate with Rhysand. Before, she'd scream, blush down to her neck and chest, and cover her face, sputtering words.

Now, married, she just pulls her head back and sighs, hands on her husband's shoulders. Rhysand moves his head to the side and stares at Sabina. His eyes are deadly. "I didn't agree to you having the security code to our home for this, Sabina."

She waves her arm dismissively. "You can have her later, I need her now. I'm sorry, I am, but it's an emergency. Your thing can wait."

Andy starts to slide off Rhysand's lap. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, whispering in his ear.

Rhysand's face doesn't change, but his jaw ticks.

"Andrea," Sabina says sternly. "Stop dirty talking."

"I am not," Andy huffs. She pushes Rhysand with a grin as she grabs a pillow and hugs it, sitting cross-legged on her mattress. "Go to the kitchen or something, baby."

Rhysand grunts and stands up, keeping his eyes on Sabina.

Sabina rolls her eyes. "Yes, you're being kicked out of your own room. Sisters before misters."

"Shut up," he says, passing by her. He closes the door gently when he leaves.

Andy pats the space next to her. "This better be important, Sab, I kicked my husband out for this."

Sabina doesn't sit. She takes a staggering breath and says, "Tristan has a kid."

Her friend's smile fades. "Okay. Important. But I—what do you mean?"

"I like you and I want to bang you is a different story from I have a kid," Sabina says. "It's a different. Story, Andy."

"I—" Andy blinks multiple times, holding a hand up. "He's a dad?"

"I don't want a kid," Sabina says. "I don't. I've never wanted one."

"Sab, breathe."

"He put me in a position where I just have to accept that he has a kid, he's raising a kid," Sabina rambles on. Her mouth is dry and her voice is shaky. "Well, it's not really his, it's his nephew, but he's raising this tiny breathing thing, he has art supplies and toys and a babysitter."

Andy crawls over the bed, grabs her hands firmly, and demands, "Sab. Calm down. Take a breath for me."

Sabina looks at Andy, swallows hard, and mutters, "Andy. I don't want to raise a kid."

"I understand that." Her blue eyes are big and worried, lines on her forehead. "Tristan isn't asking you to raise him, is he?"

Sabina shakes her head once. "No."

"He's not asking to marry you, either?"

"God, no." She cringes just thinking about it. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just..." Sabina exhales heavily, and he shoulders slump. "He's raising a seven year-old boy. I can't ignore that."

Andy purses her lips, stroking her friend's wrists with her thumbs. "Did he tell you just because he wanted to be honest?"

"Yes."

"Then it..." She swallows hard and looks away, fingers loosening. "Well, it shouldn't be your problem."

Sabina stares at the side of her face.

Andy's features tighten, mouth pressed into a thin line. She sits on the edge of the bed.

"But it is, is what you're saying," Sabina says flatly. "Because I'm dating Tristan, and I can't date Tristan if I ignore it. It's, uh, a buy one get one free thing."

Andy manages a small smile. "Sab, you have to talk to him."

"I know."

"Be honest."

"Yeah." Sabina sits beside her.

Andy hugs her arm and lays her head on Sabina's shoulder. Sabina puts an arm around her back and caresses her hair. "I want a kid," she mutters.

Sabina scoffs. "And yet it's me who gets one."

"Rhys wants to wait," she murmurs. "But I want one now. And I don't..." Andy inhales sharply and pulls away to look at her. Her eyes are glassy. "I don't want to be like our moms, you know? I don't want to be that kind of mom. I want to do the bake sales and the family days and go to PTAs with my kid. I want playdates and sports and dance competitions and just..." She sighs. "I don't want to be our moms, Sab."

"You're not going to be our moms. You'll love your kid, Andy, and they'll love you back. Me, on the other hand? I'm not going to be our moms at all," Sabina says. "Children deserve parents who want them. And I don't want them."

Andy is silent.

"You think he's going to hate me?" Sabina asks in a clear, firm voice.

"If he does, he's a dick," Andy says. "He can't expect you to raise the kid with him. It's not—it's not what you want. You'll be miserable."

Sabina nods. Sheepishly, she mutters, "Sorry I ruined your super hot evening."

Andy giggles, body shaking. "We have plenty of super hot evenings."

"Try talking him into that baby, then, you seemed to be doing pretty well earlier."

"Sabina!" Andy looks scandalized. "We're still on protection. I told you, he wants to wait."

"Why does the man get to decide?" Sabina wonders aloud, raising an eyebrow. "He's not the one housing a breathing creature in a womb for nine months. You know what that is? That's hell. And men don't go through that kind of hell, so they should keep their mouths shut."

"It's a marriage and a partnership, he gets a say in it, too." Andy rolls her eyes, grinning. "Are you sleeping here? You wanna order in some food?"

Sabina and MJ have separate guest rooms in this house. They were included in the blueprints when Andy and Rhysand were building their home. (Sabina cried, but Andy doesn't know that.) "No, I'm leaving." She pats Andy's knee and stands up, heaving a heavy sigh. "I, uh, should tell MJ. I know she won't understand but she needs to know. I don't want her to feel out of the loop."

Andy smiles and stands, too, grabbing her hand. "She shared her mom with us, Sab. I'm pretty sure she'll understand."

They hold hands as they walk down the staircase, and Rhysand's in the kitchen, looking through his phone. He doesn't glance up when he says, "Can I have my wife back now?"

"Grow up, Harton." Sabina rolls her eyes and puts on her shoes. "You're so childish."

"Knock next time, will you?" he snaps.

"God, yes, I promise." Sabina makes a face to Andy. "He's so bossy."

"Wonder why you two don't get along," says her friend, eyes shining. "It's like you guys are the siblings here."

"She's too ugly to be my sister," Rhysand pipes up.

"Oh, speak for yourself, grandpa—"

"What did you just—"

"Alright!" Andy shouts, clapping her hands together. "Sab, drive safe, call me when you're home, and please take a shower, don't go to bed without taking one. No more wine, you're exhausted."

Sabina kisses Andy's cheek. "I got it, I got it." She hugs her tight and whispers, "Thank you. You can tell him, by the way."

Andy nods and hugs her tighter. "Okay. I love you, Sab."

"Love you more, kid. Bye, Harton." Rhysand waves her away.

She turns around and heads to her car, where it's parked perfectly outside, facing the gate, ready to leave. Sabina laughs. No matter what Rhysand Harton says, he's not a douche.

As promised, Sabina calls Andy when she's home. She takes a shower, gets dressed, and heads straight to bed. No wine.

*

Sabina's spreads with Marco come out, and they're all over the internet.

It's not what Sabina wants in hers and Tristan's minds when he comes over. He's making coffee, and Sabina's seated on the couch, watching him. He's pouring into a mug when he says, "That shoot with Marco's out. The pictures look good."

Sabina tilts her head and sighs, bringing her legs up on the couch. "Yeah. They're asking if we're back together, and I told my agency to deny it."

Tristan doesn't look up. He turns around to grab the sugar and the milk. "You can have him again."

"Stop it," Sabina snaps. "You're not telling me what I'm going to do. Finish that and come here, I have to tell you something."

When he brings the mugs over, he sits opposite her, facing the television, and then his mouth curves and a ridiculous scoff escapes his lips. He reaches up to rub his chin, and then he looks at her with that smile and says, "It's gone."

"What is?"

"You looked like you loved me yesterday. And now you don't."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Tristan." Sabina sits straight and hugs herself around her torso, tightening the robe around her body. She gives him a stern look. "I don't know what love is. The only love I know is my work, my dad, MJ, Andy, Madeline, Trey, possibly Adrian, Jenner, and fucking hell—Rhys. I was—no, I am willing to throw you in there." She takes a deep breath and states, "But not the kid."

Tristan's eyes search her face. "I know."

Sabina's jaw tightens. "I may be making a big deal out of this, but I just want to be clear: even though he's not mine—he's yours—I don't want kids." She swallows hard. "I've never wanted kids."

"Okay."

Sabina raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her coffee. "That's it?"

Tristan's mouth curves. He puts a hand on her knee and strokes her skin. "I know you don't want kids, Sabina, and I'm not asking you to raise Brand with me. Ian and I switch around with him, we have June, and we're working around Mom and Dad." He exhales heavily and smiles at her assuringly. "You don't have to be involved in Brand's life if you don't want to be. I'm just asking you to know him. To be nice to him."

"I'm not a monster, Tristan, of course I'm not going to ignore him." She huffs and bites her lip. "I know he's a big part of what comes with dating you. And I don't know how to talk to children, but if I get to keep you, I will try."

He squeezes her knee. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." Sabina leans forward, dumps her mug on the table and reaches over to hug him. She inhales his scent, burying her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm not more ecstatic, or willing to help out. He's your family."

"But he's not yours," he murmurs, caressing her hair. "That's why you're not obligated to raise him with me."

Sabina nods, clutching her fingers on his shirt. She shuts her eyes. "Do you think I'm selfish?"

"No."

"Does he know we're together?"

"He does." A small laugh bubbles up from his chest. "He's smart. For a seven year-old."

Sabina nods again. "Not that he got it from you."

He laughs loudly. "I'll take that. He got it from his father—Grayson was a lawyer. Brandon threatens to take his classmates to court when they tease him. And then he cries afterwards."

"I can respect that. Brave kid." Sabina purses her lips and mutters, "I'm sorry about your brother and sister-in-law."

"You begging me to come back to work like a brat was more than enough to help me at the time." He's grinning when he says this, tucking Sabina's head under his chin, tightening his arms around her. "Grayson would've liked you because you put me in my place. But Jules would've hated you."

The model scoffs. "Think I could've taken her on?"

"That's a no-brainer." Tristan pulls back. He gently brushes his fingers over her jaw, eyes piercing and thoughtful. Quietly, he says, "I can't look at your pictures with Marco without wanting to throw up."

Sabina smiles. "You just said I can have him back."

"Clearly, I wasn't thinking straight. It's void." Tristan sighs and flops against the pillows, putting an arm over his eyes. "No other person can be sane enough to handle your ass."

"I hate you," Sabina says, rolling her eyes.

"No you don't," he whispers, grinning, pulling her down for a deep kiss.

"And I have a great ass."

"You do." He kisses her again and brings one hand down to her bottom to squeeze and prove his point.

Sabina sighs in his mouth. He tastes like her coffee. "Stop smiling."

"I can't," he admits, rubbing his thumb on her neck. Tristan's face glows, and his eyes brighten. "I'm just happy and relieved. I thought you wanted to break up."

Sabina crawls over the couch and lays her body right on top of Tristan's, clinging like a koala. With her head on his chest, she can feel and hear how loud and fast his heart is beating.

She doesn't want to need this. She doesn't want to need him. She's not going to.

So she says, "I would've been fine if we broke up."

"I wouldn't have."

There's no pause before that first word. He says that immediately—no breath, no time to think.

Sabina shuts her eyes. She doesn't like how he's—he's suddenly declaring this. Like he's sure she's it. They're it.

Sabina pushes her palms on his chest and sits up. She tries for a smile. "Is Brandon a blueberry boy like you, Bishop?"

His eyes light up, and it's enough to hear him talk about the little blueberry boy instead of hearing his heart.

She's ruined.

*

Sabina promised Tristan she'd try getting to know Brandon.

She didn't promise ice cream with him.

"It is a getting to know," Tristan reasons, shrugging, making a sharp right on the block. They're picking the boy up from his elementary school, and Sabina's face can't hide her frustration. She just left work, and now she's going to more work. "It's been a week, Kyle. I'm just...I wanna make sure you're not doing that thing you said you weren't going to do."

Ignoring that Brandon exists. Right.

"Ice cream?" Sabina scowls.

"You get a free one, too." He grins like it's supposed to be the best thing to happen to Sabina.

"Tristan." Sabina's palms start sweating. She shakes her head. "I'm not...I don't know how to talk to him."

Her boyfriend snorts. "He's a kid, they talk about everything."

"And what if he doesn't like me?" Sabina bites out, pushing his hand away when he tries to reach for her own.

He laughs once. "Not a lot of people do."

"Bishop."

He glances at her and shrugs. "Then I'd have to leave you, don't I?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Sabina snaps, jaw tightening. "God, you have no sense of—you know what? Take me home."

Tristan's smile fades. His head turns and he looks at her blankly. "Sabina."

She groans loudly in frustration. "Fine. I don't—no, don't take me home. But I'm going to talk to him like I would any other person, okay?"

"Just don't curse and that's fine—he appreciates it more if you don't talk to him like he's stupid, because he's not." His mouth curves again, and he glances at her to give her a gentle look, squeezing her thigh. "This is all I'm asking, Kyle."

"I know." Sabina huffs, exhaling heavily.

They hold hands when Tristan parks the car outside the school, and his thumb strokes her fingers as they wait near the colorful classroom. It's loud and it's smelly, and Sabina can't imagine Andy having to work around these demons all day until she retires.

Sabina looks around. All the other parents are older than the both of them. They look more collected, more put together. More ready for the kind of commitment children bring.

Tristan didn't choose having to raise Brandon. She looks up at him, swallows, and asks, "So you pick him up when you leave the office?"

He nods once. "When we don't stay back, I do. Ian's always at the hospital—it's worse when she's the on-call doctor, or when she's covering the ER. June sometimes makes it, but..." He takes a deep breath. "Sometimes, he has to stay behind with his teacher."

Sabina grimaces. "Tristan, I didn't—"

"Not your fault, don't apologize." He squeezes her hand and smiles at her. "Brand understands. He shouldn't have to, he's a kid, but he gets it."

She purses her lips and looks away. Tristan is too young. He's too young for this, he's too young to be picking up small breathing creatures from school after work.

As soon as the door opens, loud energy begins filling up the hallway. Tristan moves Sabina aside. "He's usually the last one out," he says to her ear, just as the other children squeal as they run up to their parents. "He hates cramming against the door."

Sabina manages a snicker. "I like him already."

Tristan grins.

They don't have to wait long. As soon as the doorway clears, Sabina sees the little boy with his bag slung on his back.

She catches her breath. He looks like Tristan.

Brandon spots them, and his small, blue eyes widen. His feet run up before his face smiles, and he's saying, "Papa!"

Papa. Sabina's mouth feels dry.

Tristan lets go of her hand and bends down, opening his arms. "Hey, buddy!"

His voice changes when he's talking to Brandon. The smile and love in it is evident.

Tristan lifts him easily, kissing his cheek. Brandon giggles. "You've been good today, kiddo?"

He only nods, touching his Tristan's own cheek. He pokes it with his little finger. "Didn't fight with anyone, like you said."

"Good boy." Tristan puts him down, taking his small hand in his, and looks at Sabina, who's just awkwardly standing there, watching their interaction. "Brand, baby, you remember Sabina?"

The boy nods, tilting his head up to look at her. He points at her with one finger. "Papa's girlfriend."

"Right," Tristan says with a chuckle. "Papa's girlfriend. She's going with us for ice cream, is that okay?"

Sabina gives him her best I'm-not-a-monster smile. "Hey, Brandon."

His face scrunches up like he's thinking about something. "You like Papa a lot?"

Sabina blinks. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

Tristan raises an eyebrow.

Brandon shakes his head. His hair falls across his forehead. "But I like him the most."

"Not possible." Sabina bends down, brushes his hair out of his eyes, and fixes his jacket. It's cold—Sabina's worried about his little body—don't they have less body warmth? "Tell me all the reasons why you like him the most over ice cream and then maybe I'll consider it. What's your favorite flavor?"

"Blueberry," he answers immediately, big blue eyes blinking at her.

"He means Mom's ice cream," Tristan says quietly, pressing a hand on his shoulder. "But we haven't been home since...since then."

Brandon is staring at her.

Sabina inhales heavily. "If they don't have it at the store, Papa will get you more toppings."

His face brightens. "Really?"

"No," Tristan says with a laugh. "No, he's not allowed that much sugar."

"Oh, honey." Sabina pouts mockingly and cups her boyfriend's cheek. "Brandon just got out of school and he didn't fight with anyone. I think that deserves a reward."

The kid is nodding enthusiastically, bouncing on his feet. He grabs Tristan's hand. "Please, Papa?"

It turns out that Tristan is a weak soul for this kid. He's sitting in the back, legs swinging happily, anticipating his toppings-filled ice cream. Tristan looks at Sabina, and his face is glowing. "You have nothing to worry about. He likes you already."

"I bribed him with sweets," Sabina answers, rolling her eyes, even as she feels her body sink in relief. "Believe me, it has nothing to do with my awful personality."

"Either way," he says, taking her hand and pressing a kiss on her knuckles, "I'm glad. Really thought I was going to have to leave you."

Sabina smacks him on the shoulder.

"No hitting my Papa," Brandon pipes up. "I'll take you to court."

"Sorry, kid," Sabina says. "But your Papa is annoying."

"Hey," Tristan says.

"Sometimes," Brandon admits, sheepishly smiling.

"Well, you're both brats," Tristan argues.

Brandon continues, "He won't let me play games past nine."

"You're depriving the kid of happiness and joy," Sabina tells her boyfriend.

"I'm making sure he's not deprived of sleep, stop teaming up against me or no ice cream for you both."

Sabina sticks her tongue out at him. "Fine."

"Fine," Brandon echoes. "I love you, Papa."

Tristan laughs. "Love you too, buddy."

Sabina turns her head to look at Brandon, and she winks at him. The boy winks back.

They don't have a blueberry-flavored ice cream, so Brandon chooses vanilla instead with chocolate sandwich cookies and chocolate cookie swirls with sprinkles on top. Sabina gets pistachio with lightly-roasted pistachio nuts, and Tristan orders a salted caramel almond.

While Tristan pays, Sabina faces Brandon and says, "Okay, so what do you like about Papa?"

Referring to her boyfriend in that term is foreign. Sabina tries to shake it off. This is his kid. Brandon is his kid now.

"Papa is funny," he answers, leaning in like he's telling her a secret. "We always laugh during bathtub times and sleepovers."

Sabina raises an eyebrow. "Bathtub times and sleepovers?"

Brandon nods a lot. "We don't use the bathtub a lot because of the water, but when we do, Papa and I have a thumb war competition, I'm the reigning champion. And then on sleepovers, when I can sleep on his bed, we watch Disney a lot and Papa makes his voice sound weird when he's saying lines and he tickles me a lot."

Oh. Sabina has a big bathtub. She takes bubble baths almost every day. "What else?" she asks quietly, propping her chin on her palm.

The kid thinks about it. "Hm, Papa and I make pizza together. He also sings when I have to sleep. He has a nice voice. He sings the lullaby my Mommy and Daddy used to sing to me."

Sabina can imagine her boyfriend singing. What she can't imagine is his face and his heart when he has to sing the lullaby meant for his brother to sing.

Quietly, she asks, "Have you always called him 'Papa'?"

Brandon nods and smiles toothily. "Uncle is my Papa. And now he's my Mommy and Daddy, too. Aunt Ian is always tired when she watches me." He pouts a little at this. "But I love her, too. But Papa is the best, he watches Disney with me. Oh, and Papa fixes my toys and dresses me. I can dress myself, I'm a big boy, but I like it when Papa picks out my clothes."

God. She steals a look at his boyfriend and swallows thickly. He's barely been a father for a year, but this kid talks about him like he hung the moon and the stars.

Kids feel emotions too big to fit inside their small bodies.

"What do you like about Papa?" Brandon asks her, small and bright eyes wide and big.

Sabina likes everything about him except for the things she doesn't want to feel.

She doesn't like how he makes her feel like she needs him.

She doesn't like how talking to Brandon, feeling the kid's love for him, makes her feel...stripped right now. Upset. In awe.

She likes everything about Tristan—except for the way he makes her feel.

(Like she wants to love him.)

Sabina grins and tucks her hair behind her ear. "I like that he makes tasty coffee."

"Ew." Brandon scrunches his nose. "I like milk, but Papa likes coffee in the mornings."

Sabina nods. "Coffee's bad for you."

Tristan comes back with a tray. He puts their ice cream cups in front of them and mutters, "What have you two been talking about?"

"Only good things about you, babe," Sabina answers sweetly, handing Brandon a little spoon.

"Ah, my little lawyer," Tristan says fondly, sitting beside him and ruffling his hair. "He's building a good case for me."

Sabina sits back and eats her ice cream. Her heart breaks whenever Tristan smiles at his little boy, wiping the ice cream off his lips and ruffling his hair.

The kid kisses her cheek when Sabina parks the car outside their building. Tristan kisses her on the lips, whispers, "Thank you," and then carries his son inside.

What he's thanking her for, Sabina doesn't know.

What she does know is that she doesn't deserve it.

*

thoughts thoughts thoughts i luv em :c thank u so much for reading ily