"Everything looks good to go, you just have to do one last sweep of the location," Yam tells Sabina with a bright smile, passing over the final report. "Invitations have been sent out, programs and logistics have the event covered. Models will have a rehearsal on the 27th."

"Great," Sabina says, flipping through the pages. Satisfied, she leans back on her chair and smiles at her. "I'll drop by the venue tomorrow after our all-staff meeting, and I'll be there during the rehearsal. Thank you for your work."

"Thank you, Ms. Kyle," the project head mutters bashfully, stepping back. She leaves her office.

Tristan comes in just before the door closes, bringing a coffee cup. "You have that meeting with Paez in half an hour, we should get going."

"Right." Sabina stands up and grabs her blazer, putting it on. Tristan takes her bag and hands her the coffee. "Thank you, babe. Is there anything else I need?"

"All with me," he tells her with a wink, cradling his tablet with the other hand. "Stan's ready, let's go."

Tristan stands behind her in the elevator. Sabina smirks at him through the glass doors and says, "I kissed you for the first time in an elevator almost a year ago."

"Yeah, you broke me."

Sabina turns around, laughing. "What?"

He has a smile on his face. "I told you I liked you, you ran away. I resigned, you hired me back. I told you I didn't wanna be fuck buddies anymore, you kissed me. I got butterflies."

Sabina grins, cupping his face with one hand. "You're so cute."

"You wouldn't leave me alone," he whispers in her mouth, sucking her bottom lip. "You're a true stalker. Very persistent. You throw tantrums when you don't get what you want."

"Well," Sabina murmurs, "I did get what I want. And it's a good thing you want me, too."

The elevator doors open before they can deepen the kiss, and Tristan's hand smacks her bottom as they walk to her car, where Stan is waiting by the driver's side patiently.

But then Tristan's phone rings, and he fumbles with it in his jacket while they walk. Sabina takes her bag and his tablet so he can answer it. "Hello?"

Sabina keeps walking, sipping her coffee leisurely. She doesn't realize her boyfriend stopped a few meters back, eyebrows furrowed. He has that pinch in between them, an angry set to his jaw. Sabina walks back towards him, confused.

"Ian, slow down. Tell me what happened."

Sabina freezes. Oh, shit.

Tristan looks like he froze, too. He's not moving, he's not breathing. Sabina can hear his sister's frantic voice on the other line.

"I'll be there in thirty," he says, and then promptly ends the phone call. He looks at Sabina.

Her heart instantly breaks at the look on his face. Sabina takes a guess, swallowing thickly. "Is Brandon hurt?"

"It was a bad fall," he says, blinking rapidly. He's not even looking at her anymore, he's looking at a distance, fingers stretching themselves open. "He's hurt, it's bad, he's being brought into the ER."

"Which hospital?"

Tristan tells her with a stutter. Hands full, Sabina manages to take his hand and drag him to his car. "Stan, change of plans."

Her boyfriend finally reacts just as Sabina settles them both in the backseat. His eyes are blue and wide. "Sabina, we can't just—you have work, you have that meeting, and I'll just check up on him and I'll be back—"

"Shut up," Sabina snaps. "We can reschedule that meeting with Paez. If we can't, then we can't, we'll find another clothing line. Right now, Brandon, your son, is hurt. So just calm down, we'll be there in twenty."

Tristan doesn't argue anymore. Sabina puts one hand on his knee, stroking him through the fabric reassuringly, and the other has a firm grasp in his own, even though his fingers are numb and stiff.

Ian calls again. All the blood pales from Tristan's face when she says that Brandon is in line for surgery.

Sabina can hear her screaming.

"Calm down and wait for me," Tristan growls, hanging up.

"What happened?"

"They won't let her operate on him," he says, shaking his head. His Adam's apple bobbles up and down, and he's breathing heavily. "They can't let family operate on members, they're not allowing her to see him."

Because emotional attachment to the patient can lead to bad decisions, bad outcomes. Sabina sighs, pressing a kiss to Tristan's cold knuckles. "Stan, please hurry."

"You got it, Ms. Kyle," her driver answers gruffly.

At the hospital, Tristan rushes to the front desk, asking for his kid's name. Sabina pushes past him and arranges for the best room and best care to be given to the seven year-old boy, and she also asks for the best pediatric surgeon to perform the surgery on him or she's suing the hospital.

"Sabina," Tristan says, pulling her arm. His eyes are wet. "Please, I appreciate it, but I can't—"

"Please," Sabina groans, grasping his shoulders, cupping his face. "Please, baby, let me just handle this, okay? Let. Me. Handle. This."

Ian comes into view. She looks like a mess. "Tristan," she chokes out.

Tristan rushes over to his sister in the waiting room. Sabina makes the final arrangements with the front desk.

Brandon had been rushed into surgery. Both Ian and Tristan are close to crumbling.

While waiting outside the operating room, Tristan falls asleep, laying his head on Sabina's shoulder. Carefully, she jostles him to her lap so he doesn't wake up with a stiff neck. Ian manages a small smile as she looks at Sabina. "You didn't have to come. I know you're busy with work."

"Yeah," Sabina whispers, threading her fingers in his hair. "Yeah, I am, but this is more important."

The surgeon nods, sniffling. "When they brought him in with the paramedics," she mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut, "God. My whole body crumbled on the spot."

Sabina is pretty sure Tristan felt the same way when he got that phone call.

But focused on her boyfriend, trying to be the stronger one between the two of them, Sabina didn't notice how her own body felt when she heard Brandon had been hurt. She didn't notice how her chest felt crushed, how her breathing seemed labored.

Brandon is not her child, but he made Sabina feel like this. Made her feel like he is.

"Thank you," Ian says. Sabina knows she's not just talking about the arrangements she made for her nephew, but for being here. With Tristan, with her, for Brandon.

Sabina nods, taking a deep breath. "Anytime."

"...did you really threaten to sue the hospital I'm working at?"

"Mm."

Ian laughs. "I screamed at my attendings, too. They're my bosses, my higher-ups. The head of the peds deparment—pediatrics—I yelled at her, she's the one performing the surgery on Brand."

Sabina's mouth curves. "Well. If you don't have a job tomorrow, you can learn to play Monopoly."

The doctor laughs again. Sabina's relieved Ian yelled at the surgeon cutting Brandon open on the table.

When one of the surgeons come out of the operating room, Ian stands. "Well?"

The other doctor smiles at her, rubbing her shoulder. "He's fine, Ian. Easy success. We're bringing him to his room now."

"Oh," Ian clutches her chest, knees buckling. "Oh, God, he's fine. He's fine."

Sabina decides it's time to wake up her boyfriend. "Honey. Tristan, wake up."

He stirs, cracking open his eyes. They squint at the light, and then at her.

"Brand's surgery went well," she whispers, brushing the hair out of his face. "The doctor's here, she said they're moving him to his room."

Tristan stands. Sabina has to help him keep his balance. His eyes blink rapidly, moving closer to the surgeon. "Catalina?"

"Hey, Tristan," she says, smiling. "I assisted on Brandon's surgery. He's fine, he did great, he should be up in a few hours. I'll take you to his room."

Sabina takes Tristan's hand. She thinks he barely felt it as his feet move, following the doctor.

In Brandon's room, Tristan and Ian head immediately to his bed, where the kid is laying, resting.

Sabina feels a tightness in her gut, and she has to physically look away from Brandon's face. It's unusual seeing him so peaceful.

Sabina stands back and watches her boyfriend instead.

Tristan tenderly cups Brandon's face, long fingers stroking his little eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth. Tristan's shoulders shake, and he leans forward to kiss his forehead. He's crying.

Ian bows her head, running a hand through Brandon's hair, and she twists her head to look at the surgeon. "You little shit."

She's taken off her scrub cap, and her blonde hair falls over her shoulders. She gives Ian a dazzling smile. "You're welcome, Ian, I just saved your nephew's life. It was my pleasure, no need for the thanks."

The brunette rolls her eyes. "Push me out of the way again and I'll cut your throat. Sabina," she says, standing straight and gesturing to the doctor, "this is Dr. Catalina Angeles, my best friend—now debatable. She's a resident like me."

"Hi," Catalina says brightly, stretching out her hand. "Sabina Kyle, right? Tristan's girlfriend? And..." Her eyes dart to her best friend. "The one who punched this bitch?"

Sabina nods stiffly, taking her hand. "That's me. And the bitch punched me back."

She keeps her bright demeanor when Sabina's hand falls flat on her side after a quick and disinterested shake, and she says, "Well, I'll leave the family members to it. I have another surgery right after this, but don't worry, the head surgeon on this case is coming by in a few to talk to you guys about post-op care and whatnot."

Ian winces. "Is she mad?"

"I'll let you decide how mad she is," Catalina whispers with a smile, winking. Then her gaze moves to Tristan, and her eyes soften.

Sabina raises an eyebrow. What the fuck.

"Tristan," she calls. "I'm heading out, call me if you need anything."

Tristan tuns his head and manages a small smile. "Thank you, Catalina."

"No problem," she says, smile widening to a grin. "It's so good to see you again. Not under the best circumstances, but you get what I mean."

Tristan nods once, and then he turns back around to face his son, pulling a chair closer.

As soon as Catalina is gone, Ian turns to Sabina. "I know it's not the best time to tell you this, but Tristan's kind of in shock and he doesn't care about anything other than Brandon right now, so I'll tell you: Catalina and Tristan used to date, they were together right before we started our residency here."

Sabina exhales, pressing her tongue against her teeth. She nods, crossing her arms over her chest. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll drop by Tristan's condo and get you both clothes and food, is there anything else I should bring?"

"Brandon's bear, please," Ian says, smiling at her. "And...thank you, Sabina. You didn't have to pay for all of this—"

"Don't mention it," she says quickly, rubbing her shoulder. "I'll be right back."

*

For the next few days, Tristan and Ian hover over Brandon. Catalina would come by, too, checking on him. She'd look at Tristan for too long, smile at Sabina, and leave.

Sabina can't blame the girl if she still loves him, but damn if she doesn't want to pull her hair out and drag it across the mud.

'This is Brandon's doctor,' her mind would argue. And Sabina stomp her foot and remind herself that this is not the time or place for her jealousy to fuel. Tristan had just gone through hell and back.

He refuses to go home, but Sabina pushed him and Ian to the car to demand that they get a shower, that Sabina will be watching over the kid, to come back once they've gotten some sleep.

Brandon gives her a toothy smile while Sabina prepares his lunch on his bed table. "Papa won't leave me alone. Not even to pee."

Sabina smiles, unwrapping the plastic on his food tray. "Papa was scared to death when you fell, baby. And he's trying to make sure you're okay."

He pouts, sitting up. Sabina puts a hand on his back and helps him. "Papa doesn't need to worry. I'm a big boy."

Sabina's heart warms. She ruffles his hair and smiles at him, pulling her chair closer to the bed. "Big boys are more careful while playing. They don't go on the roof to rescue a ball."

To her delight, the kid's cheeks heat, and he looks away from her. "I'm hungry."

Sabina laughs and helps him eat.

When Ian and Tristan come back, freshly-showered and caught up on rest, Tristan kisses Sabina's cheek and whispers, "Thank you. I know I haven't been—"

She wraps an arm around his waist and kisses him quickly. "S'okay. We'll talk once Brand's out of here, okay?"

He looks grateful. "Okay."

While the family spend time together, Sabina sits by the sidelines, working away on her computer. In the mornings while Brandon's recovering, she goes to work busy with unopened reports and unedited stories and consecutive phone calls—trying to rearrange her schedule while she's in the hospital for the remainder of the day. It was a pain to leave everything a mess in the office, but they had to, and Sabina has to, every day until Brandon's safe and okay at home. Their collaboration launch with WFW is near, and they ran into some problems, and Sabina snaps, "Fix it, use my card, whatever. I can't fix your shit for you because I'm dealing with personal matters, so please, please fix this on your own."

She's coming back from the cafeteria, having just finished her coffee, when Tristan's head raises from laying on Brandon's bed, and he rubs his eyes. "Hey, where have you been?" he croaks.

Sabina puts her laptop away near their bags. "I was eating at the cafeteria."

"With your laptop?"

"Mm." Sabina smiles sweetly.

Tristan sighs. He looks so, so exhausted. "You need to go back to work."

"I'm fine where I am, thanks." Sabina sits down on the sofa bed next to Ian who's asleep, and crosses her legs, shrugging. "I can handle work on my own, Bishop. You focus on Brandon."

He stares at her. "You don't have to be here."

Sabina knows he means well. He means that he knows Sabina didn't sign up for this, he knows that she's not obligated to Brandon, and that she's not obligated to be here.

Still, it stings. And she whispers, "Yes, I do."

Tristan's face crumples, and then he's hunching over and crying.

Sabina rushes over to kneel in front of him, cupping his face. "Hey, hey, baby. It's okay, Brand's okay."

He lets himself be hugged by Sabina, who cradles his head in her shoulder, running her hands down his back, kissing his temple. Tristan's breaths come in and out rapidly, like he's struggling to breathe.

"I can't do this like Grayson can," he whimpers into her neck, shaking his head. "I can't."

To lose not one, but two people Tristan loved—and then to be thrust far too early into the life of single parenthood—Sabina realizes that Tristan has never had the chance to be cluttered with grief and torment and the feeling of losing his brother and his sister-in-law. He had to father a young child, his body trapped beneath the weight of it all. Maybe he wasn't capable of being a parent to an orphaned child, but he did it anyway.

And Sabina may be shit at comforting people, but she knows what it's like to love Brandon, and Tristan loves Brandon. "Tristan, I've never met your brother. I don't know him, but I do know you. You love Brandon. With all your heart and being, you do. That's enough for me to know that you couldn't have done a better job than Grayson if he were here."

Tristan sobs, crushing her to him, and Sabina's heart breaks. He sounds like a lost child. "Shh, shh," Sabina coos, rocking them, cradling his head. She kisses his hair. "It's okay, honey. You're okay, Brandon's okay."

Tristan falls asleep like that. He looks wrecked and destroyed by the world, worn down to nothing but skin and bone.

It's been a year, and it took a nasty accident for it to happen, but it's the first time Tristan fully processes that Brandon's parents are gone. Faded to ash.

For all Sabina knows, he didn't want to be a parent. But he did it, anyway.

*

"I think I like this line better, but I'm not really sure, I just like how the colors fit so well with the theme. What do you think, Sab? Help me out here."

Sabina blinks rapidly, focusing back on MJ, who's staring at her with concern. Sabina clears her throat and spreads out the pictures, eyes darting between them. Her team on this project sent her these for approval last night, but Sabina didn't get a chance to look at them. She's never even seen these clotheslines from their company before, but still, she decides to give her honest opinion. "I agree, this one looks too bright and out-of-place, this one looks dull. But I suppose if you're looking for entertainment, we could go with the rainbows, but for something more suited to an event hosted by CH Suites, I'd say we go with this one."

Her best friend hums, nodding. "Okay, I trust your judgment. We'll go with this, then. Is there anything else we need to go over or should I let you go to check up on Tristan and Brandon?"

The model releases a heavy breath. "I'm sorry I'm distracted."

"It's not that, Sab." MJ sighs, shaking her head. "What are you even doing working if you're so worried? You should be with them, not with me. Certainly not discussing work-related matters. I could go over this with your team instead but you insisted on calling this meeting yourself."

Brandon's been out of the hospital for a week, but he's not allowed to go back to school yet. Tristan has been on leave for a week now, too.

Sabina has been...working. A lot. She drops by his condominium unit when she can, bringing food, usually, but leaves before an hour can even pass.

She and Tristan haven't talked since his breakdown at the hospital—he's preoccupied with his son, as he should be. It's their time together.

It doesn't stop Sabina from worrying, or wishing that he'd call and text her once in a while.

"I don't think Tristan wants me around," she says, voice stable and firm, keeping her gaze locked with MJ's. "Maybe I'm overreacting, but if he doesn't, then that's fine, you know? I think I overstepped my boundaries with them at the hospital."

Andy pulls out her baking dish and clatters it on the table, placing a hand on her hip. "What do you mean you overstepped? You were helping, you paid for his expenses, you were there every night, you were taking care of Brandon—I saw you feed him, I was there. And I almost cried."

MJ picks up the papers on the desk and sighs. "She means overstepping—as in doing all of those things when Tristan never asked her to. Or didn't want her to."

"Why wouldn't he want you to?" Andy asks, frowning. She's getting pissed off. Great. "You're part of his family, Sab, you had every right to—"

"I'm not," Sabina says quietly, pursing her lips. "He said I'm his family, too. But I'm not a part of his family—I'm not anything to Brandon, technically. Unless Tristan decides he's crazy enough to marry me and then I'll be his stepmom, sort of. But right now..." The eldest gulps down her water. "Right now, I'm just an outsider."

The redhead raises her eyebrows. "Do you want to marry him? Do you want to be Brandon's sort-of-stepmom?"

Sabina's immediate answer is no.

No, she doesn't believe in the value of marriage. No, she doesn't want a lifelong commitment to a child that's not even hers—not that she'd ever have one.

But what comes out of her mouth is, "I don't know."

Andy brings her freshly-baked cookies over and sits down, taking off her gloves. With a sigh, she rubs Sabina's back and mutters, "You'd be a damn good sort-of-stepmom, though."

MJ snickers, taking Sabina's hand. "Never thought I'd say this, but I agree. You'd be a bomb stepmom to Brandon—you are already one."

Sabina inhales shakily. She grips MJ's fingers and looks at Andy, and says, "Marriage, I can compromise with. I can say I want a small one. I can say I don't want to wear white, I want to wear a red dress. I can say I want it on my backyard, the beach, somewhere that isn't a church." She swallows thickly, and mutters, "But being a mom, stepmom, whichever—there's no compromise there. What if I don't want to be one?"

"Then you'd have to sacrifice loving both Tristan and Brandon, I guess," MJ answers softly. "You can't love Tristan and not be a part of his family all in—you think you can marry Tristan and ignore Brandon? Hon, he's going to divorce you. Also, since you love Brandon already, I don't think you can ignore him, actually—but I'm afraid you'll hate it. Being a mom."

That's what Sabina's afraid of, too.

"And if you decide that marriage is what you're giving up, I don't think Tristan wants you guys to end up in stalemate, either," Andy chimes in, squeezing her shoulder. "I think he'd want the real deal—husband and wife slash stepmom. Not just boyfriend and girlfriend slash sort-of-stepmom for the rest of his life."

Damn it. Finding the whole thing ridiculous, a laugh escapes Sabina's lips.

Andy shakes her head. "Ah, this is bad. Sabina laughs when she doesn't know what to do anymore."

MJ nods once, standing up. "Before you go and talk to Tristan, let's have wine first, shall we?"

"Please," Sabina says, smile and laugh fading.

When she's had just had a little alcohol in her system to get over her nerves, MJ drives her to Tristan's condominium building.

She squeezes her knee and gives her a look. "You're gonna be fine?"

"Please." Sabina smiles at her, even as she feels her chest tighten. "Don't worry about me."

"Save that for when I don't get a call from you, crying and begging me to pick you up."

"I don't do that shit, stop being dramatic."

MJ grabs her arm suddenly, digging her nails into her skin. She stares at her, jaw set. "Call me if you need to, bitch. Not because you want to worry me, but because you need me. It's about time we're here for you the same way you've been for Andy and I. We clear?"

Sabina leans over for a quick hug. She says, "Crystal. I'll call you, but until then, I'm fine. Trust me."

Tristan opens the door with sleep in his eyes and a mess of a hair. He squints and rasps, "Kyle?"

He looks absolutely exhausted. Sabina's chest aches.

She knows Brandon is asleep, has been for quite some time as it's way past his bedtime, so she keeps her voice quiet when she asks, "Can I come in?"

"Why are you even asking, of course you can," her boyfriend mutters, already stepping aside.

Sabina takes off her shoes as silently as possible, heading to his room. Tristan follows after her, feet padding quietly across the floorboards.

He closes the door, and Sabina sits on his bed. She swallows thickly, looks him straight in the eye, and says, "I'm sorry for overstepping at the hospital. It wasn't my place."

"Over—what?" Tristan stutters, blinking.

"I'm nothing to Brand, I know," she says firmly, keeping her voice steady. "And I'm not a part of your family with him. If you want me to back off, I will. If you don't, then say it and I don't know, fuckin' marry me or something, we're too old for me to guess what you want and for you to just drop hints you don't want me around anymore—you have to tell me—"

"I want to marry you," Tristan whispers.

"—and maybe just forget whatever the fuck I said because what?"

He exhales, a breathless chuckle coming out of his mouth, and Sabina hears her heart hammer in her throat and in her chest and in her skin, and Tristan turns around quickly, running his hands through his face. "God, fuck, damn it, I'm sorry, that just slipped out, Jesus Christ."

Sabina doesn't know what the fuck is going on. "So that was a joke, or—"

"No, of course not," Tristan scoffs out, still with his back to her, face in his hands. "Shit, Sabina. Give me a second."

Sabina shuts her mouth.

Tristan inhales sharply, broad shoulders moving, and he raises his head, arms dropping to his sides. He turns to face her, his expression the blankest she's ever seen. "One thing at a time. Okay?"

She nods wordlessly.

"What do you mean you were overstepping at the hospital? What makes you say that you were overstepping at all?"

Sabina tells him what she, Andy, and MJ talked about. "And, I don't know, whenever I check up on you and Brand, you never—you don't talk to me anymore, you hardly even glance my way. I know you're focused on Brand, and you should be considering he just got out of the hospital and you just went through hell and back, but shit, Bishop. Give me a text or something. Let me know you still love me and I'm not in a relationship with a wall."

He does that breathless laugh thing again, shutting his eyes.

Sabina raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so you find this funny?"

"I find it funny how all I've been feeling these past few weeks is guilt and shame and the absolute cluelessness of what the fuck is she still doing here, loving Brandon this way even when she's not obligated to, has been messing with my head—and how, whenever you come by, all I can think about is you know what? Fuck it. I don't care. I'm just happy she does—I'm just happy she loves Brandon. I am."

Sabina stares at him. "Then why didn't you tell me that."

"Because that makes me the most selfish person alive," Tristan says, staring at her, too. His jaw tightens. "And also because my selfishness doesn't stop there—I just said I want to marry you, of course I still love you, dumbass. Everything you did for me and for Brandon at the hospital and all the days after that just made me greedier with that love."

Sabina does not know what the fuck to say.

Tristan leans against the wall, pressing his lips to a thin line. "You're not nothing to Brand. And you're not not a part of my family with him. I don't know how you can even say that when the first thing Brandon asks me, in the mornings when you're not here, is 'I wanna see Sabina, Papa.' So no, you don't have the right to tell me you're not a part of my family with him, and you don't have the right to tell me to tell you to back off."

She's frozen. All she can hear is her heart, and his breaths.

Tristan sighs. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm sorry I made you feel like an outsider. I just felt like I was going to lose you if I said something about marriage, if I said anything about you being a real parent to Brandon...because between the two of us, Sabina, I know it's not what you want. This isn't the life that you want."

Sabina swallows hard. She looks at him and whispers, "So...just to be clear, your crazy ass wants to marry me? Are you sure?"

"Not right now, but someday, yes," he whispers back, eyebrows furrowing.

"And...you want me to be a mom to Brandon?"

"Of course I do," he says, voice breaking like he's in pain. "But only if it's something you want to be, and I'm not feeling very confident about that."

"I can't be married to you and not be a mom to Brandon."

"That's why we have the 'no' answer in proposals," he answers smartly, even as he winces.

"And we can't—you don't want to..." Sabina gulps, twisting the sheets with her fists. "Stay the way we are?"

"I know you don't believe in the value of marriage, Sabina," Tristan whispers. "But I do. And I don't want to be stuck like this forever."

This, being, without the rings, without the ceremony, without the vows.

Sabina exhales heavily. She stands up and moves closer to him. Tristan presses himself against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I can't look at you. If I look at you, I'll cry," he murmurs.

Sabina feels her heart break. She stands in front of him, barely a breath away. "Can I touch you?"

Slowly, Tristan holds his palms out to her.

Sabina touches him, and Tristan's breath catches. She turns his hands over, rubbing her thumbs on his ring fingers, imagining the silver band on them.

Her lungs constrict. It feels tight. Suffocating. But bearable. She takes a deep breath, envelopes his fingers with hers, and breathes, "I love you, Tristan."

"Thanks," he says, laughing nervously.

Sabina slaps his hands, but she closes them again with her own. "And I love Brandon, too."

Even without looking at her, a tear falls on his cheek. Sabina's knees buckle. "I'll marry you if I have to, but I don't want to be an outsider," she whispers, leaning forward, pressing their foreheads together. Sabina inhales, breath stuttering, and she interlaces her fingers with his, pressing them against the wall by his sides. "I don't want you to tell me that I'm not obligated to love you or him, because I will be if I'm married to you, and if I'm committed to him. And I want to be. Both. If that's okay."

"No. I just told you I want to marry you and I want you to be a mom to my kid because it is not okay, it's absolutely—"

"Idiot," Sabina breathes, cupping his face delicately, leaning over to kiss him.

Tristan's hands fall slack, and he kisses her with both a smile and tears pressed to her mouth.

*

On his bed, Tristan traces circles on her back, eyes closed. "I missed you," he whispers.

"You better," Sabina mutters in his neck. "And just because we had that little serious talk, it doesn't mean I forgot all about your hot doctor ex that you never told me about."

"Ah, shit. I cried, though. Doesn't that give me a free pass?"

Sabina hits his chest. Hard. Tristan groans, looking at her with wide eyes, and she sits up to glare at him. "It makes me angry knowing you've kissed and hooked up with other girls."

His brows raise. "And it doesn't make me angry knowing you've hooked up with other guys? And girls?"

"Well, you can be. But I'm mad right now that you've kissed and hooked up with Brandon's hot doctor, save your anger another time."

Tristan's mouth curves, and he brings his hands to her waist, stroking her skin. It brings shivers to Sabina's spine. "Fair enough. I'm sorry I never told you, I just didn't think it was a big deal."

Sabina scowls, threading her fingers in his sandy blonde hair. "You were childhood friends. She was your first love. Your breakup was messy. Still not a big deal?"

Tristan grins, eyes twinkling. He shrugs. "No."

"Ugh." Sabina grabs a pillow and hits him, and then she stands up. "Fine."

"Baby," Tristan calls, laughing, yanking her arm hard enough to make her fall back onto his body. He traps her with his arms around her waist, smiling. "It's been a long time since then."

"Not really," Sabina snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. She has annoyance written all over her face. "She still looks at you the way I look at you. And if you weren't so torn up about Brandon, I would've sliced that bitch's throat open."

Tristan circles his finger in the air, pointing at her eyes. "You have crazy murderous eyes."

"I'll murder her first for giving you that look. And then you."

Her boyfriend laughs. "She looks at me like she's happy I'm happy, trust me. It's all she ever wanted when we broke up."

Sabina doesn't know enough about this doctor, so she huffs. "Why did you break up?"

"Because while I admire that she's gifted with her hands for surgery and she was incredibly dedicated to saving lives, she wasn't dedicated to me," Tristan answers quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She didn't love me enough. And I learned to be fine with that."

Sabina presses her lips together, fingers toying with the hair at the back of his neck. "It's really not a big deal? I'm not going to go apeshit crazy and worry about her?"

"Nope." Tristan kisses her. "It's not a big deal because while what you said are true—that we were childhood friends, she was my first love, and our breakup was messy—I promise you, there's nothing I see when I look at her. When I look at you, though, I see a nutjob who loves me and my son madly, and I see a face I want to see first every day when I wake up for the rest of my life. Doesn't matter if you're drooling, it's fine."

Sabina sneers at him. "How can you be both cheesy and annoying at the same time?"

Tristan kisses her, smiling. "It's a talent."

"You like my face?"

"Mm. Among other things—"

"Fuck it, then."

Tristan chokes on his saliva, coughing. "Fucking hell, where did that come from?"

"I'm feeling incredibly possessive right now," Sabina says, smiling wickedly, already making her way down his body. "Well?"

He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. "Jesus Christ. You are a menace."

"And you'll have to deal with it for the rest of your life. Still wanna marry me?"

He pulls her back up to him to kiss her slowly. Deeply. To whisper in her lips, "Yes. I do."

Sabina grins and crawls backward. "Get to work, then, Daddy. Oh, sorry, Bishop."

He chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head, already gathering her hair in one hand.