Tristan's POV:
I wake up with a fright. There is a five-year-old staring at me. What the f*ck? Why is there a child in my bedroom?
It takes me a few minutes to remember that I didn't sleep in my bedroom but rather in Ella's front room, and that's why there is a five-year-old Thomas staring daggers right at me. His big sister is still asleep in my arms and I consider cowering behind her, but really, what sort of man cowers at the sight or a child?
"Good morning, Thomas."
"Don't wake her," he tells me off.
I unravel myself and leave Ella resting soundly on the sofa.
"Should we make breakfast?" I ask the small boy.
"Sure."
His smile returns and he follows me through to the kitchen.
"What do you want?" I ask him.
"Frosties!" he answers immediately.
"Okay."
I nod my head before going in search of a bowl and cereal.
"Why are you here?" Thomas asks me as he watches me prepare his breakfast.