Before Tristan goes home to Malta, he and the boys go for a night out. He deserves one.

Jayden winks at Sabina just as they're crowding the front door of her apartment. "We'll take good care of him, Sab."

"Call me if someone hits on him," she says, crossing her arms. "And you better take care of him or it's your necks I'm breaking."

"We will," Everett snorts.

Tristan kisses her one last time. "If I'm drunk by the end of the night, I'm sorry and I love you."

Sabina smiles and pushes him away. "Go before your boys break my door."

Tristan doesn't come home drunk. He comes home drunk and alarmed. "Sabina!" he yells, slapping her counter from where his head is laid down.

Lined up on the wall by the hallway, Isaac bites his lip. "So he started crying—"

"Shut up, no talking," Sabina snaps, eyes murderous. She crosses her arms over her chest, rubs the sleep out of her eyes—it's four in the fucking morning, for God's sake—and glares at each of the boys standing next to each other, backs pressed to the wall. They're rigid and stiff, but Asher's falling asleep, wasted, and Everett's stumbling, and Isaac's just finding the whole thing funny, and Jayden—Jayden's just matching Sabina's death stare, trying hard to focus on her. "He gets drunk, he's crying, you drag him to dance, someone hits on him while he was dancing, he demands you all to take him home, and you bring him to a football field. Where he hallucinates and has delusions about me breaking up with him."

"He lost the game," Asher slurs.

"No talking," Sabina hisses. "Why the fuck didn't you take him home?"

"Sabina!" Tristan yells again, slapping the counter more forcefully this time. "Kyle!"

"God." Sabina grits her teeth and points at his friends. "I should've never trusted you males."

"He's always a parent, Sabina, give him a break," Isaac says, eyes drooping. "He should have his fun sometimes."

"And that would be fine if he weren't having delusions about our hypothetical breakup."

"Well." Jayden blinks rapidly. "He kept saying you're going to leave him."

Sabina sighs. Oh, Tristan. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. Drink water, all of you. I'm going to call a cab and you're going to go home and sleep this off before I kill you, understand?"

Everett makes a salute, standing straight. "Yes, ma'am."

"Sabina," Tristan moans.

Sabina stalks to her boyfriend and sighs, cupping his face. "Okay, I'm here, honey. I'm not breaking up with you, okay?"

"But you are," Tristan slurs, lips pursed together from Sabina's hold on his cheeks. His eyes are closed. "You will."

The model takes a deep breath. "Isaac, you're the most sober out of everyone here, so carry him to my room. And if you drop him, I swear to God, you will not live another day."

Isaac gets to live another day. When the boys finally drag themselves inside the cab and Sabina pays extra to take them home safely, she goes back to her room, takes off Tristan's shoes and pants, puts on some boxers for him, and pulls the covers over his body. She lies down next to him and traces his face, frowning. "Tristan?"

"Mm." He rolls over, hugging her, head buried to her chest. His breath fans her skin. "Hi."

"Hi," Sabina whispers, stroking his hair. "I'm here, I'm not leaving you."

Tristan's breath is long and quiet. "You will," he mutters again, cold lips brushing her collarbone.

Sabina purses her lips. "What do you mean, Tristan?"

He shakes his head once, and then his breathing slows. He's out, but it takes a long time before Sabina's out, too.

In the morning, Tristan wakes up late. Sabina's in the kitchen figuring out how bacon works while the coffee's running, but she left water and a pill on her bedside table. It's nearing eleven when her boyfriend stumbles out, face washed and hair messy, squinting at the light. "Hey," he rasps.

"Good morning," Sabina says, turning around to hug him when he's close enough. Tristan slumps on her body, chin resting on top of her head. "You hungry?"

"Mm." He takes a deep breath. "Smells good. Head hurts."

"No kidding." Sabina reaches up and smooths his hair out while his eyes are closed, and leads him to a chair. "Okay, sit down and have more water. I'll be done in a few."

"Thank you," he mutters, running a hand through his face.

After he's had food and fluid in him and he takes a shower, Tristan looks like he feels much better. He sits next to Sabina on the couch while she's going through her emails, and leans his head on her shoulder. "Was I bad?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her torso.

Sabina doesn't know how to approach this, but she looks at her screen when she answers, "Well, you didn't threaten to cheat on me, that's for sure."

"Kyle."

"Okay, sorry." Sabina clears her throat and pushes her laptop away, stroking his hair. "You were crying and you kept telling your friends I was leaving you. And then someone tried to dance with you last night and you wanted to go home, but they took you to a football field to play a drunk game, I don't even know. And then you were having delusions about us breaking up."

Tristan's quiet for a long time, Sabina's not sure if he fell asleep.

Until he murmurs, "Bad, then."

She takes a deep breath. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I was just sad, Sabina," he mutters, burying his head on her stomach. "And clearly, my emotions got the best of me."

"Yeah, but that's the point." Sabina swallows hard, cradling his head on her lap. "Did I do something to make you sad?"

"No." He opens his eyes. The blues feel like a tidal wave. "You make me happy."

Sabina bites her lip and nods once. "Okay."

"I love you," he whispers, closing his eyes again.

She leans down to kiss his forehead and says the words right back.

*

"Okay, buddy, bedtime is at nine, okay? Papa will see you tomorrow," Tristan tells his son, kneeling down on his level and stroking his face. "Please, please, please be good to Sabina. You're a good boy, right?"

Brandon nods excitedly, shifting on his feet. "Yes, I'm a good boy. I'll be good to her, we'll have fun!"

Tristan smiles, and he leans forward to kiss him on his head. "Okay, Papa's going, go watch TV."

"Yes!" The kid runs to the couch, jumping on the cushions. He's amazed with the flat screen, jaw dropping.

"I knew he'd love it here," Tristan says, shaking his head.

Sabina shrugs, sliding her hands around his neck. "You'll have to drag him home when you get back."

"I do." His fingers squeeze her hips. "You'll be fine?"

"You mean will I be fine taking care of your seven year-old boy for a day? Yes."

"Our," he corrects immediately in a low voice, cupping her cheek. "Our boy."

Sabina's stomach twists, but she smiles. "Yes, we'll be fine, I promise. I'll text you updates, I have his rubber ducky in the bath, we'll make pizza and chocolate milkshakes without you, and all the sharp objects and potential hazards are gone—Ian made sure of it."

Tristan nods, tipping her chin up to kiss her. "Thank you," he whispers in her mouth, and then presses forward to kiss her again.

Sabina squeezes his body to hers. "Drive safe, call me when you get in."

As soon as Tristan's gone, Sabina feels her body seize up when she turns around to look at Brandon on her couch.

It's never happened before—she's alone with his kid for a day.

Sabina closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She has Tristan, Ian, Andy and MJ on speed dial, she has June's number taped to the fridge, she has all the emergency hotlines jotted down in her phone and Brandon's bedtime is at nine. She can do this.

Exhaling, forcing her body to relax, Sabina puts on her best smile and jumps on the couch next to him. "What're we watching, sweetie?"

*

She can't do this.

"Brand, honey, don't touch the oven!" Sabina yells, pulling him back by the shirt with wide eyes. "It's hot, you'll hurt yourself!"

The force of Sabina's pull almost makes Brandon stumble, but she steadies him immediately. Nothing bad is going to happen to this kid on her watch. Nope. Nada. Never.

Even though she almost sliced her hand open when Brandon broke a glass, and even though he made a mess in her kitchen and living room—scattering all his toys and coloring pens even when Sabina told him to pick up his mess, and even though he almost burned himself taking out the peel from the oven.

"Sorry," the kid mutters, pouting.

Sabina's panting. She tightens her hands around his arms and closes her eyes, kneeling in front of him. "Baby, please. Please be careful. I know you're excited and that your Papa's not here, but we don't want you to get hurt now, do we?"

The boy shakes his head. "No. That will hurt Papa, too."

"And me, and your Auntie." Sabina sighs, ruffling his hair and hugging him. "Okay, we'll be careful, alright? You wanna eat the pizza now, see your masterpiece?"

Brandon nods, face brightening.

"Okay." Sabina smiles and kisses his head. "Okay, and then we'll clean up like big boys do and then we'll have bathtub time."

Bathtub time means Sabina's bathroom is wet.

Brandon's splashing around the tub, giggling. "This is so big!"

As much as Sabina knows she's going to have to stay and clean up a lot after Brandon's asleep, she can't help but smile at his happiness. He has a lot of space to move around in her tub, and Sabina pulls him to her. "Let me wash your hair and then we'll have your thumb war competition, let's see if I can beat you because we both know your Papa can't."

Brandon grins, water all over his face and hair and little body. "Okay!"

It takes about an hour to get Brandon fully washed and out of the tub because he didn't want to leave. Sabina told him he was going to drown if he stayed in it but he didn't care. (Also, Sabina beat him at thumb war, but he looked like he was about to cry, so Sabina pretended to lose the next few games. Like Tristan does.)

So Sabina carried him out, drying his skin while he kicks his legs in a tantrum. "No! Tub!"

"Hon, you'll get cold if you stayed in there longer," Sabina huffs, maneuvering the towel around so she can shake the water out of his body. "And you need to go to sleep, it's almost nine."

"Wanna play games," Brandon says, crossing his arms, an angry set to his features.

Sabina shakes her head firmly. "No. Your Papa said you're sleeping at nine."

"Papa's not here," he whines.

"But I am, and I say you sleep at nine." Sabina tosses the towel aside and holds him by the waist, grabbing his pajamas. "You'll be grumpy tomorrow if you stay past it, and no one likes grumpy Brandon, because grumpy Brandon is mean. Okay?"

He scrunches his nose, trying to maintain his anger even though his little blue eyes soften. "Okay," he mutters.

"Good boy." Sabina kisses his cheek and puts on his clothes carefully. "Okay, you can sleep in my room tonight, my bed is big."

His eyes widen. "Big?"

She grins and taps his nose. "Big. Come on."

Once he's settled under the covers after jumping on her mattress, Brandon hugs his bear to his chest and snuggles closer to Sabina. "I'm tired," he says.

No kidding. Sabina takes a deep breath and rubs her hand down his back. "Go to sleep."

"I can't sleep without Papa's lullaby."

Sabina squeezes her eyes shut. Shit. She should've asked Tristan to record one. She'll call him right now if she knew he wasn't at dinner with his parents. Ian's in surgery.

Sabina takes a deep breath, hugs Brandon and whispers, "Okay, I don't remember all of the words so help me, okay?"

Brandon nods, eyes closing, and Sabina sings.

*

"Is he asleep?"

Sabina closes the door as quietly as she can. Padding to the living room, she slumps down on the couch and rubs her forehead. "Yeah. Just put him down, I sent you a pic."

Her boyfriend's smiling when he says, "You sound tired, baby."

"Oh, trust me, I am. He's a real ball of energy and I sang your lullaby and all."

A laugh escapes him. "Oh, damn. I would've loved to see that."

Sabina smiles. "I'm going to need some wine after this, but, um, how are you with your parents?"

Tristan takes a deep breath. "Doing well. Got emotional. Uh, they regret what they did and they want to make up for it."

She nods, tracing mindless circles on her couch. "Will you? Let them?"

"I think so," Tristan answers quietly. "They're his grandparents, and Brandon loves them. And I...I missed home, Sabina. I wish you were here, this place is—I grew up here, and I missed the smell, I missed the air, I missed seeing blueberries everywhere. I walked through the farms and I remembered Brandon and Grayson and Jules picking blueberries."

Sabina hugs her legs to her chest. "I saw the pictures. It looks amazing."

Tristan lets out a breathless chuckle. "Yeah. It is. Um, I'm driving back tomorrow morning and I'll be there before Brand wakes up, okay? Go to sleep after your wine, you sound exhausted."

Sabina hums. "I will. You rest, too. Love you."

"I love you," he murmurs back, and then hangs up.

Sabina stands up, passing all of Brandon's toys, and heads to the kitchen, grabbing her wine. Her group chat with Andy and MJ has been alive, both of them asking for pictures of the kid and herself, checking in, asking her if she wants them to come by in between their busy schedules. Sabina pulls it up and types after taking a sip. well, test run is over and it was a...success? for the most part, i'm still alive, brandon's not hurt, i made it

Andy's contact picture appears. I'm sure yuo did great Sab! Super proud of you <3

MJ: still surprised u have it in u. proud of u, babe *tips my glass to u* be proud of urself, too!

Andy: yes!!! <33

They both send wine glass emojis after that.

They're right. Sabina should feel proud of herself, she's never been with a kid this long with no other adult in the room, and she doesn't know how to take care of him but she did it anyway. (Some minor faults, but. Minor.)

But her heart feels just a little bit heavy, and maybe that's just missing Tristan. She shakes it off, finishes her drink and gets to cleaning, starting with the kitchen, then the bathroom, then the living room.

It's only when she's picking up Brandon's coloring pens on the floor that she realizes it's not missing Tristan.

She drops the pens, and then an uncontrollable sob escapes her mouth, and she slaps a hand to it, careful not to wake the child sleeping in her room.

Sabina sinks to the floor, heart threatening to rip her chest open, and she clutches it with her other hand, inhaling and exhaling small gasps of breaths, like there's not enough oxygen in her lungs. She can't see anything past the tears blurring her vision.

And it's not because she had minor faults and run-ins today with Brandon. It's not because she's exhausted and tired after one day spent with him.

It's because seeing Brandon's things in her apartment, in her space, around her own things—Tristan's right. She was rushing the moving in because she wanted to see what that life is like.

This is what that life is like—a hole she'll never get out of, guilt, unease, regret—and a horrible, horrible realization, that's been brewing at the bottom of her stomach and at the back of her mind and drowning in her heart, for almost a year now, settles in.

Sabina doesn't want it.

*

When Tristan comes back, he looks happy.

"Hey," he breathes, kissing her quickly after setting his bag down. "Morning. You had coffee yet?"

"Nope." Sabina smiles at him and hugs him tightly, wrapping both legs and arms around his body. Tristan lets out a surprised grunt but he puts his hand under her thighs to keep her upright. "I missed you," she whispers in his neck.

"Whoa." Tristan chuckles, squeezing her. "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?"

Sabina can't find it in her to roll her eyes or retort. She leans back, turns his ball cap around so the rim faces backward, and cups his face, stroking her thumbs against his cheeks.

Tristan's smile doesn't fade but he stares at her, confused. "You okay, baby?"

Sabina purses her lips, nods, and smiles. "Yup. Just missed you, that's all. Brand missed you, too, he'll trip over himself running to you when he wakes up."

"Ah, my two bosses," he teases, leaning forward to press his mouth to hers. He's smiling. "Maybe you guys just miss someone to order around."

Sabina kisses him slowly. "Maybe. C'mon, make me my coffee, please. And make breakfast, too. I'll help."

Tristan laughs, puts her down, and follows her to the kitchen. "Okay."

While her boyfriend fries the sausages in the pan and Sabina's washing the rice, he tells her, "So. Uh. I might go back to Malta the weekend after next with Brandon. They wanna see him, and I...I agreed. Just for a few days."

Sabina nods. "Okay, are you going to talk to Brand about it first?"

"Yeah." Tristan leans against the pantry and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'll talk to Ian, too."

"Mm. If he wants to go home, he should, he deserves the love his grandparents are supposed to give him. Did you bring him ice cream?"

Tristan smiles. "Yes. He's going to combust."

Sabina laughs, bringing the rice pot to the cooker. "He missed it."

"Kyle."

"Yep."

"I want you to come with us."

Sabina puts the pot down carefully and covers it, switching it on. Then she turns around, and Tristan's already watching her carefully, hopeful eyes. She keeps her voice even as she leans against the counter, palms pushing down the surface, and says, "Me? Why?"

"Because you are, or you're going to be, Brandon's mom," he answers. "And my parents want to meet you. I said you make me happy."

Sabina stares at Tristan for a while, getting used to his face, memorizing it in her head while he still looks like he loves her, like she makes him happy. She swallows thickly and tries for a smile. "Can I...can I think about it? We have a lot of work and I...I don't want to intrude on your time with your parents at home."

It's partly true. Tristan buys it, and he smiles back. "Yeah, of course. Yeah."

"Thank you," Sabina whispers, and turns around so he doesn't see her face.

Sabina can't hide anything in her face. So if she's feeling like she's about to break her own heart by staying with Tristan and his son like this, then Tristan will know, and Tristan deserves the love and commitment she's supposed to be willing to give.

This is what's on her mind while she's running up the treadmill, back in the gym with MJ.

"So you're finally admitting that you hate being a mother?" her best friend asks, standing beside the machine with a water bottle in hand.

Sabina's mouth is dry. She looks ahead. "I don't hate Brandon."

"I didn't say that. I know you don't hate Brandon, Sab. I know you don't, that's why you try so hard and you're good with him. What you do hate is being a mother."

"I love Brandon," Sabina says, catching her breath while she runs, ponytail swinging side to side. "I love Brandon, I love that kid so much but I'm afraid I'm going to resent him."

"And Tristan," MJ adds quietly.

Sabina lets out a growl, running faster. "Not because I think I'm going to fail as a parent, but because I didn't want to be one."

"Sab, we both know you had that abortion because you don't want to be a mother, and you'll have another again if it happens, and—babe. You can't force yourself to do something you don't want to do."

Sabina's scream gets lost in her throat. MJ pushes the control button of the treadmill, and Sabina sinks to her knees, crying.

MJ hugs her. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you'll hate Tristan and you'll hate Brandon and maybe you'll blame them for forcing you into this life but you'll hate yourself more. You'll feel guilty for the rest of your life because you know you're not the parent Brandon deserves, and this is not the life you deserve."

And Tristan deserves the love and commitment she's supposed to be willing to give, and she is, she is willing. They have time—he said she can still think about it.

When she and her dad would argue about her not wanting to have children, Allan would say, "You'll find the right person. And then you'll change your mind."

Sabina believes she's found the right person. The problem is that no matter how much time he gives her, Sabina's not changing her mind, or her heart, or herself.

So if she's willing to go against that because she loves Tristan and Brandon, then that does not make her weak—it makes her anything but weak.

But if she is...isn't it alright to be weak sometimes?