. gun street girl .

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He asks for her next move and she swallows hard. The word divorce has held it's position so strongly in her mind but now that she's here with him it's followed by a question mark. He looks sad and so does she. There's a second where she wants to throw the idea of it out the window but then she remember why it was so prominent. So she sweeps it under the rug. “I want to see Forrest. He's priority. Can you help with that? I don't mind if you're there, I don't care where. I just want to see him.”

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The silence that stretches out after his question feels like it lasts a lifetime. Completely afraid of what she'll say, it's as if he hasn't suffered the worst already. This conversation has given him some sense of hope where he'd had none, but he couldn't help but wonder if the damage had already been done. He nods. "Rebecca picks him up from school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, then takes him back to hers until I get out of work. Why don't you see him there? Tell me when so I can prepare him for it, I don't want him to be blindsided."

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Tess smiles with complete disbelief, “really?” She can't wipe the smile from the face as she nods, agreeing with him. Of course she couldn't just bombard Forrest. The child wouldn't know how to handle it, it would be a completely overwhelming situation. “Tuesday,” she says with certainty. “This can't be easy, I feel so sorry about it. I won't disappear again.”

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He feels a sense of unease agreeing to this. It felt easy enough to agree to terms that effected him, such as coming to this bar and talking things out, but he was fiercely protective of Forrest. If this exchange was traumatic for him, what would it be like for a kid? Though of course it wasn't the same, since Forrest didn't share in the blame and he would simply be delighted to see his mom again. Tristan's main worry was that she might pull something another stunt, maybe even this time taking him with her, and that was a truly terrifying prospect. But it felt better to run the risk and make Forrest happy, and besides, he knew Tessa wasn't that evil. "Tuesday," he repeated, though without much enthusiasm. He picked up a cold fry, eating it more for something to do than out of hunger. "I'll get home from work around seven, so I'll come collect him then." He's tempted to add that she could maybe come back and eat dinner with them, but he knew better than to rush into playing happy families.

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Tristan is significantly unenthusiastic and she gets it, though she still can't help but beam. Forrest had changed so much physically, she wondered how his mind had grown. Tessa was both nervous and excited, though she was absolutely more of the latter. While she had just been ill thinking about meeting up with her husband, she was nauseous with joy over seeing Forrest. “God! Thank you!” she squeezes his thigh again before removing her hand to finish off her beer. “I can't wait.. What's he into right now? Is he over The Wiggles?”

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Feeling sick with worry about how this will all go, there's also a part of Tristan that's excited to tell Forrest he can finally see Tessa again. As much as he'd still like to withhold him from her, the sheer glee the child would feel was enough for him to run any risk. Worst case scenario, he'd be there to pick up the pieces, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Tessa's glee suggested that it wouldn't, and despite his trepidations, he offers her a small smile. "He's gonna be so excited," he says, feeling a pang of longing as she squeezes his thigh. Whilst she's distracted with the beer he slips his wedding band back on, feeling better for it. "Oh yeah, old news. It's all about Paw Patrol now. And I wasn't kidding about the selfies, he's incessant with them. Loves the face filters too, spends ages laughing at himself with cat ears or hearts for eyes."

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She lights up when he smiles back, even though it's a fraction of the size of hers. Tess was confident that she wouldn't leave again. She had no reason to abandon Forrest, everything had been found. As stupid as the idea of going on a journey of self-discovery was, it had worked. The blonde had come back with a clearer and more certain head. She needed balance and she needed her family. “Oh no,” she laughs at the idea of the little blonde boy behind a digital cat mask. It was something that probably wouldn't happen on her watch, but she tries not to be critical as handing Forrest a phone would be a simple solution to his crying. “That's terrible. What else? What do you do together?”

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Tristan wondered if he'd ever fully trust her again. Or anyone, in fact. A childhood being pulled between two households had made him determined not to marry, since divorce seemed like the worst thing in the world, but when he'd met Tessa he couldn't imagine divorce ever being an option. That he'd been wrong hurt deeply, and made him wary of connecting with anyone again. Always trust your gut instincts. He feels awkward talking about their time together, as though he's being tested, or at the very least offering up private information. But Tessa's so enthusiastic he can't say no. "We go to old school diners, he always gets pancakes, I get waffles, then he wants waffles at the last minute so we have to swap. Every time. We draw, we play cowboys, he likes it when I ham up my accent. We read a lot, he sleeps in my bed almost every night, we usually fall asleep watching a superhero movie."

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She rests her head on her hand and her icy eyes watch him as he talks about their son. She's smiling the entire time. Her heart shaped lips pulling wide across her perfect teeth when he mentions the pancakes and waffles, her head shakes. “They're the same thing.” She used to make him Disney shaped waffles and then she figured out how to design shapes onto pancakes and that was all he wanted. Though sometimes she'd make a tiger instead of a lion and she'd be the worst person in the world. Tessa's regained her appetite and is dipping the cold fries in mayonnaise. It's like she's watching a show and she's munching on popcorn. “I love it,” she laughs again. She really means it, this is the relationship she always wanted. “And you? Just you. You're okay?”

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He shakes his head, laughing slightly. "No, they're not. I know this because I deal with constant food envy as he tucks into my waffles." He leaves out the part where they started going to diners because he couldn't make breakfast to Forrest's standards, the boy refusing to accept a boring old slice of toast when he was so used to all sorts of wild and wonderful offerings. He glances at her face for the first time in a while, noting how genuinely pleased she seems by this development between father and son. The question catches him off guard. He's been asked it constantly by so many people and he goes to give his standard response, but at the last second he decides not to. "Not really, no."

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“No! They're the same batter, the only difference is waffles are a lot more fun,” she laughs again. She really is delighted by the story of their relationship. Forrest had always looked up to his father and enjoyed his time. He was constantly bragging to Tessa about how cool Tristan was. But Tessa had always worried that was going to turn sour because it was more a fairy tale than a reality. Her smile fades when he admits how he is and Tessa has an urge to hug him. An urge which she represses and instead looks at him with affection. “It couldn't have been easy, I left you with nothing,” she admits and she wants to apologize but she feels like she's repeating herself. “You've changed, do you feel different? I see that you're different and I like you like this.”

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"Texture is half the fun of eating, which is why waffles are infinitely better," he says, enjoying talking about something considerably less heavy than the state of their marriage. It can't last long though, and though he's the person who initiated it by being honest in his answer, he still struggles to verbalise negative emotions effectively. "I'm barely keeping my head above water," he confesses, for the first time ever. It feels liberating and overwhelming. He had trod on because he had no option not to, but now he had to admit how difficult it had been, how much of a nightmare Forrest was and how difficult it was to be a single parent with a full time, heavily demanding job. He barely slept, when he was at home he stressed about work and when he was at work he stressed about home. Finishing off his water, he cleared his throat. "You like me on the brink of a breakdown? Good to know."

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“They carry maple syrup with ease,” she grins again. She wants to reach out to comfort him again but she resists, instead grabbing her water and taking a refreshing sip. It hurts to know that he's in a bad place, and it especially hurts knowing she caused it. Forrest was a challenge but Tristan had definitely seen the worst of it. He was a particular kid and for the most part Tessa had learned all his little quirks. She'd practically trained and manipulated the boy into acting a certain way. And without his main guardian, Forrest was guaranteed to be chaos. “Hey, you're still breathing,” she reassures him, finally giving into her craving and reaching for his hand. She laughs gently and shakes her golden head, “no, of course not. You're just taking more time, you seem more thoughtful. You look tired but you seem aware. And I don't mean you look shit when I say tired, don't think that. You're fine, you'll be fine, we'll be fine. It only goes up from here. No breakdowns.”

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Before he can help himself he's squeezing her hand back. When he was growing up in Texas, there were very set ideas about what constituted masculinity. Though he'd been deeply upset by his parents' divorce and bore the psychological scars to prove it, he had always been told that boys don't cry, they don't suffer, they don't really feel anything at all. It was difficult to open up, and he'd had no intention of doing so today, but he couldn't help it. Maybe she was right, he had changed. "I'm exhausted," he agreed, though he shot her a small grin, "thanks for clarifying that I don't look like shit. You don't either." He sighed again, scratching at his stubble. It wasn't as easy for him to be so optimistic but it helped to hear it. "I need to find a new job."

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There are those who dream about their wedding day and others who dream about seeing the world. Tessa had always imagined herself never settling down and skipping to and from different timezones. But marrying Tristan had been easy. He had made her want to be cliche. She wanted the white dress with him, she'd wanted that happily ever after. But it was after Forrest that she'd thought she'd made a mistake. A lot of it was the postpartum depression, which had made her believe that she couldn't have both her career and family. She'd only realized this year that it was a possibility, it was finding the balance. “It's weird.. I've been trying this thing called sleeping. It's worked wonders, maybe you should try it?” she kids, her fingers pressing his hand softly. “You're not liking it anymoe?”