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It wasn’t a word that Mel would personally have come up with, but Trinity had a name for what Langdon had turned into after his divorce.
Fuckboy.
As Mel sat across from Frank at a dim sum and noodle restaurant down the street from the hospital, a place that at some point had become their restaurant, listening to Frank recount the details of his latest hook-up, Mel couldn’t help but turn the word over in her mind.
“She gave surprisingly good head,” Frank said, between bites of a dumpling. “Oral wasn’t really something Abby and I had done in years. If we had sex at all it was sort of perfunctory missionary to reset the clock. God. I missed blow-jobs.”
“Well. I’m glad it went well. Getting your needs met is important,” was all Mel could manage. Truthfully, hearing the details of Frank’s escapades generally turned her stomach, but there was so much more to their friendship she loved that made swallowing this particular notch in her throat worth it.
“Eh. I wouldn’t say my needs are being totally met. Like I said. It was good. But I’m having trouble really scratching the itch. It didn’t feel like this in college,” Frank said with a shrug.
That much, Mel understood at least. She wasn’t the type of person who could tolerate casual sex. She liked sex, of course, but she needed it to be with someone who knew and understood her–knew her well enough to know what touches felt good and what made her skin crawl or feel overstimulated. That kind of understanding just wasn’t possible with casual hookups.
“I’m sure when you find the right person, it will be more fulfilling,” Mel offered. Remaining neutral in these conversations was one of the very few things about her relationship with Frank that made her tired. Their conversation, at least the ones that didn’t revolve around whoever he had fucked recently, helped her wind down, relax into herself, while still maintaining connection, a feat not usually accomplished with anyone but Becca.
“Melbel, I’m not looking to find the right girl right now. Just the next girl,” Frank replied.
Mel didn’t respond to that, just slurped noodles up and nodded as though that made absolutely any sense to her.
“Anyway, how are Becca’s cooking classes going?” Frank asked. On nights that they both had the night off and he didn’t have the kids, Frank came over for movie and dinner nights with her and Becca, more than willing to be the guinea pig for whatever cuisine Becca had been learning at the center.
“Pretty well. She’s in a mac and cheese phase, but she’s still having a little trouble with making a roux.”
“That makes sense. Mac and cheese is one of her safe foods,” Frank said, taking a sip of Coke. Mel thought about chastising him about the caffeine at 8 pm but couldn’t bring herself to. He had come so far in his recovery. Caffeine was really his only remaining vice. Well. Caffeine and tinder hookups.
“I am surprised that she’s willing to eat mac and cheese that’s not Annie’s purple box,” Frank added grinning.
Mel chuckled at that. The way that Frank had integrated into her life so thoroughly, knowing her sister’s likes and needs, warmed her all over.
“I was surprised, too. Though she does insist on only using shells for the pasta.”
“She’s more adventurous than we give her credit for, I think,” Frank replied. Really, it was a little pathetic the way Mel’s heart skipped a beat at his use of we.
Mel checked the time on her phone before reluctantly saying “Speaking of which, it’s time for me to head out. I need to pick up Becca in 20 minutes.”
Frank’s lips formed an almost comical pout, his bright blue eyes hyperbolically sad. “Nooooo,” he whined.
“I wish I could stay. But alas,” Mel replied, rolling her eyes at his dramatic protest.
“It’s fine. There’s this redhead that said she might want to meet up tonight. Pretty. Huge boobs if her pictures are accurate,” he said, but from what Mel could understand, his tone didn’t seem enthusiastic, though accurately reading tone was not a skill which she was particularly adept at.
Mel raised her hand to flag down a waitress to bring her a check before Frank stopped her. “I got it, sweetheart. You go pick up your sister,” he offered.
“You sure?” Mel asked.
“Positive,” he replied, pulling himself to his feet.
Mel stood up and put her jacket on. Frank stood in front of her, arms open, waiting. Somehow, without her ever having told him, Frank had figured out quickly that Mel liked hugs but found them much easier when he let her come to him. Mel moved in towards him to wrap her arms around his waist.
He pulled her in, arms around her shoulders, dimpled chin resting on the top of her head. His hugs were addicting. He was always careful to hold her tight, knowing that light touches were difficult for her, wrapping her in pressure that rivaled any weighted blanket she had ever tried. The scent of his cologne, warm and musky, along with the feeling of being in his arms caused her to relax with a sigh.
She felt him press his lips into the crown of her head. “You still on for the park with us on Thursday? Tanner and Millie miss you. Is Becca coming or is she at the center?” He asked, pulling back to look down at her, causing her stomach to summersault. There was just so much of him.
“Becca’s at the center, but I’ll be there,” she assured him, before turning and walking out of the building and towards her car.
The thing was, she knew she had let herself get too close to him. He had infiltrated all aspects of her life so gently and thoroughly that she hadn’t known that she needed to put walls up until it was too late.
He was the person that she wanted to tell about her days, the bad and the good. He understood what life was like for the tenor of her days to be at the whim of whatever rolled in through the emergency department doors. He had insisted she put him down as her emergency contact, knowing that Becca was her only relative and as much as she loved her, she simply couldn’t handle that responsibility. He was the person that rebraided her hair in the middle of shift when it got too out of control, having learned how to do Millie’s hair with a gentle touch, managing tight, secure braids to keep her hair from causing problems without ever pulling too hard.
And so for the million little ways he made her days lighter, she was willing to stomach the only downside–wanting him so badly it hurt in ways that she knew he would never want from her in return.
It made sense. He was simply not the kind of man someone like her ended up with–especially considering that Frank was utterly unconcerned with “ending up” at all at this point in his life.
It wasn’t just that he was handsome, though that much was obvious. Garcia called him ER Ken for a reason. Tall and broad shouldered, square-jawed, blue-eyes contrasted with dark swooping hair. He was undeniably nice to look at.
But there was so much more to him than a nice face. His easy charisma would have been a source of envy for Mel if she weren’t so entranced by it herself. The effortless way he cracked jokes, could be snarky but in a way that people found endearing. The way he adored his children, would do anything for them.
And how far he had come. Mel was sure he wasn’t opening up about his addiction recovery to his one-night (sometimes two night, never three night) stands. But she knew. He had gone through something horrible. Had done horrible things. But when he was put in a position where getting better was asked of him, for his kids, for his love of medicine, he chose to do the hard work to get back to the things he loved most.
All of that amounted to a man who could–and regularly did–bring home any beautiful woman that crossed his path. From the photos he had shown her from his apps, they ran the gamut in terms of looks, tall or short, hair of all colors, curvy, thin. They all had only two things in common. They were all beautiful and able to have the kind of casual sex Frank was looking for.
Mel knew better than to try and fit herself into that category. She was cute. She knew that. But not in a way that grabbed attention. And she could offer Frank casual sex, but she also knew that would do the kind of damage to herself that would make their friendship impossible to keep. So she listened to him regale tales of his flings, sometimes in details that made her ache, to keep the parts of him that were easy, that made her feel lighter.
—
Which is how she found herself at the park Thursday afternoon.
When stars aligned such that her and Frank's mutual days off coincided with days he had the kids, they often visited the park and then got ice cream on the way home. Sometimes Becca joined if she was up to it and didn't have anything going on at the center. Those days were Mel's favorites. Mixing her family with Frank's satisfied a well tucked-away fantasy of Mel's, if only for a few hours.
Mel adored Frank's children and they had taken to her almost immediately. She pushed Millie on the swing while Frank did the same to Tanner on the swing next to her.
"Higher, Melly!" Millie shouted, kicking her feet back and forth.
Mel pushed Millie as high as she was comfortable with, laughing at Millie's delighted giggles.
Frank stepped back from the swing he was pushing and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He aimed his phone at the Mel.
"What are you doing?" Mel asked, feeling suddenly embarrassed.
"It's just too good. I need a picture. My Millie Billie and Melly Belly," he said, and the shutter sound clicked from his phone. He turned the screen around to show Mel. "See, you both just look so happy."
And they did. Millie's gleeful little face, Mel, turned to the camera, blush on her cheeks and heart in her eyes. She was grateful that, in that moment and as usual, Frank seemed oblivious to her more complicated feelings towards him. She knew any other person, Samira or Trinity in particular, would look at the picture and see exactly the reason for the look on her face. Knew the looks their faces would take on–Samira, eyes empathetic but pitying, Trinity, indignant on her behalf.
But thankfully, at least in this instance, Frank seemed to put her in a box where romantic interest was never considered on either of their parts.
"That's a lockscreen for sure," Frank said, looking down at his phone.
"Frank. Don't be ridiculous," Mel objected.
"How is that, in any way, ridiculous, Melissa," Frank asked, skepticism clear on his face.
"What if one of your dates sees a woman as your home screen with your daughter? They'd think I was--I mean-- not that I--but--"
Luckily, Frank didn't seem to notice the reason for her flustering.
"They're not dates, Mel. They're not looking at my phone and even if they were, who cares?" He said, dismissively.
"Daddy, can Millie and I go slide?" Tanner asked, dragging his feet to stop the swing.
"Sure, buddy. Just make sure you look out for her. Mel and I will be over here if you need us,"
He said, gesturing to the picnic table where their stuff sat. "Actually, both of you come drink some water and then you can slide to your heart's content," he amended.
They drank from their tiny bottles before making their way to the slide, Tanner holding Millie's hand protectively. Mel felt her heart swell at the sight. She really did love the two of them.
"Speaking of not-dates," Frank said, redirecting his attention to Mel, "The redhead ended up being pretty fun. Very uh–vocal. I went down on her for like fifteen minutes and she was enthusiastic, I'll give her that much."
Mel couldn't stop it. She pictured herself in the woman's position, Frank laying down between her legs and she felt her whole body flush with warmth. She wondered how long it would take him to learn what she liked, he seemed to be able to intuit her sensory needs in non-sexual circumstances. She wondered if it would translate.
Nope. Not helpful. Don't do that, she internally chastised herself.
"That's great," she responded with all the enthusiasm she could muster, hoping he hadn't noticed the flush she was sure was apparent on her fair skin. "Do you think you'll see her again?"
"Eh. Probably not. I mean, I had fun but it wasn't exactly a soul-mate connection. Not that that's what I'm looking for. I had a good time but you know."
Mel very certainly did not know, but she let it go, nodding as if she did.
"Hey, I forgot to tell you, Robby pulled me aside after last shift to tell me we did a great job with that STEMI," Frank said, out of nowhere, seeming to forget all about the women he had spent his previous evening with. He did that–change the subject abruptly and without context. She found it endearing, an obvious biproduct of his ADHD. A lack of object permanence, she had once joked.
"He said that I seem like I'm getting my groove back which is honestly as close to a compliment as he's given me since rehab," Frank admitted, and she could see that he was proud of himself.
"I'm glad. It was warranted. You were amazing. Forty-eight minutes is impressive," Mel replied, also proud of him. He seemed to relish in her praise
"Hey, it was as much your success as mine. We're a good team," he said, as though it were obvious.
They did make a good team. They seemed to move in sync with each other in the ED, understanding each other's thoughts and movements. It wasn't surprising. They were best friends, outside of Becca, no one knew her better.
Again, her imagination drifted to them being a different kind of team. Raising Tanner and Millie together, maybe with another sibling that was all their own. Caring for Becca together. Juggling dinner and dance recitals, soccer games and bedtime routines. But with two people to carry the load together--an impossibility that made her stomach clench.
So she changed the subject. "I think I need to head out. I need some reset time before it's time to get Becca." This was only partially true. She needed reset time, but Becca was staying overnight at the center.
"Okay. Sweetheart," he smiled, knowingly. That was another thing. Frank never begrudged her when things all became too much. From their first shift together, he just knew when she needed a break and allowed her the space to reset.
"Hey guys," Frank called towards the slide, "Come give Melly a goodbye."
Both of them immediately came barreling towards her, hugging one leg each, pleading for her to stay long enough to get ice cream with them.
"Guys, we talked about this. I know you love her but sometimes Mel needs to take time to herself," Frank reminded them.
He held his arms open and she slotted herself into them, sturdy the way they always were. "Bye guys. I love you. I'll see you both as soon as I can. Bye Frank," she sighed.
"Love you, see you tomorrow morning," he said offhandedly. This was not unusual, him telling her he loved her. It was always casual, usually accompanying a goodbye hug or the end of a phone call, but it never failed to make her chest ache.
"Now kiss!" Millie declared, looking up at them, still wrapped into a hug.
Frank pulled away and chuckled. "Millie, Mel and Daddy aren't the kissing kind of friends, remember?"
Millie pouted, eyes huge with disappointment. Mel worked hard to keep her face from doing the same.
"Yeah. See you tomorrow," she said, hoping she disguised the hurt in her voice, before turning and heading to her car.
She strapped her seatbelt and pulled up her group chat with Samira and Trinity, asking if they could come by her apartment after they got off shift for what Samira had taken to calling “whine and wine.”
She needed perspective and if two people could give her the full spectrum of perspective, surely those people were Samira and Trinity.
They shot back in the affirmative one right after the other, probably already near each other while on shift, so she headed to pick up a few bottles of wine and decompress before they made their way to her place.
---
“Not the type of friends who kiss?!?” Trinity repeated, indignantly. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
From her place sitting cross cross on the floor, Mel took a sip of wine before looking up to where
Trinity sprawled across her threadbare couch.
“He was talking to a two-year-old, Trinity. And he's not wrong. We are friends who don’t kiss,” Mel replied diplomatically. She had grown to appreciate Trinity’s bluntness but she always felt like she was playing defense where Frank was concerned.
“Some friend,” Trinity huffed.
“That’s not even really the hard part,” Mel explained. Though certainly, hearing what she was to him in words simple enough for a toddler to understand had stung in an unexpected way.
“What is the hard part then?” Samira asked gently, her brown eyes always so deep with empathy.
“I just wish I didn't have to hear all of the specifics of his…exploits.”
“Sexploits!” Trinity interjected, always at least one drink further in than the other two.
“He just gives such vivid details sometimes and it seems like there's a never ending parade or beautiful women and it hurts,” Mel admitted.
“What a goddamn fuckboy,” Trinity replied.
“Why is he telling you the details in the first place?” Samira asked, ignoring Trinity.
“I think the last time he hooked up with women like this was in college before he met Abby. And when he was doing it then, he told his friends about it the way that guys do. So to him, it seems totally normal for him to tell me now as his best friend,” Mel explained.
“Oh, Mel,” Samira sighed. “It's not normal if it's hurting you.”
"It's not like he's hurting me on purpose. He wouldn't do that," Mel pleaded, defensively.
Trinity scoffed.
"Trinity, come on," Samira chastised. "You don't have to like Langdon, but you know how he is about Mel. Remember that time the senior orthopedic resident almost made her cry? He almost put the guy through a wall."
"He did not!" Mel objected, flushing at the memory of Frank putting his body between her and the other resident to come to her defense. He had been adamant, passionate even. Mel could admit that much.
"Okay, sweetie," Samira replied, a little patronizing.
"I will admit that he is protective of her," Trinity relented.
"Thank you," Samira said to Trinity before turning her attention back to Mel. "So just tell him it hurts you."
"I can't tell him that it hurts without him asking me why, and that's just not a question I can answer without ending our friendship," Mel replied, desperation in her voice.
"Why are you so sure it would end your friendship?"
"Because. He'd be so nice about it, but he'd start looking at me with pity. Poor Mel and her sad little crush," she explained. "I can't take that. He's too important to me." The thought of his pity made her sick.
"If you're not going to tell him, then you at least need to set some boundaries. You don't have to tell him why, but put a little distance between you for a bit. Not enough to lose him. Just enough to protect yourself," Mira argued, always pragmatic. "He's treating you like his girlfriend in every way except sex. You can't fulfill all his needs for emotional intimacy while he runs through woman after woman to meet his other needs. That's not fair to you."
"Sam's right. You're like his emotional fluffer and it's gross. Don't let him do that," Trinity added.
Mel felt silly knowing what Trinity meant by that, but Becca had gone through a New Girl phase that had introduced her to that particular term.
"And put yourself out there!" Trinity added.
"Trinity," Mel leveled, as though she were being absolutely ridiculous.
"She's not wrong, Mel. You can't just pine away for him forever. Your friendship won't survive that either. He's not your boyfriend which means you're free to find someone else," Samira supplied gently.
"Come on–" Mel started but Samira quickly interrupted her.
"I'm not telling you to download tinder or anything. That's not how you're going to find someone you mesh with. We're just saying, be open to possibilities."
"Yeah. And Samira knows all about being open to unexpected possibilities. That's how she ended up boning our boss," Trinity mocked.
"Not my boss. Explicitly never my boss," Samira reminded her. This was not the first time this particular exchange had taken place.
"Yeah. Not anymore. Since you got HR involved and they mandated it," Trinity countered, rolling her eyes.
"We're not talking about me. We're talking about Mel," Samira redirected, less tactfully than she was usually capable of.
"I guess I don't have to go looking for someone, but I can be open to it," Mel allowed. She could do it. She could put enough space between her and Frank that she could keep their friendship without feeling suffocated by the weight of wanting but never having.
"That's all we're saying," Samira said with a soft smile.
"How is boning that old man going?" Trinity tried.
Mel chuckled, grateful for a change of subject and much happier to listen to the details of Samira's sex life than she was to Frank's.
Her phone lit up at that moment. Of course it was Frank.
Want to call before bed?
They talked on the phone most nights, but for once, Mel didn't respond–just turned her phone face down and returned her attention to her other friends.
—
Frank ran his hands through his hair before tapping his fingers absently against the desk of the hub. He felt off kilter for some reason, antsy in a way that his Vyvanse wasn't touching. He hadn't slept well the past four nights. That must have been it. Normally, he called Mel before bed–spent an hour or so just talking about their days, about everything and nothing–and it never failed to lull him to sleep.
The last four nights, there had been no phone calls. She was busy, she told him. First with a girls night, then with Becca, then she was simply too tired. Last night, she gave no explanation.
Frank’s mind had always been a discordant, buzzing place. He had joked as a kid that it felt like bees were living in his brain. That description was apparently not as creative as he had given himself credit for and had landed him an ADHD diagnosis at age eight.
He'd learned on his psych rotation that people with ADHD very commonly used the bee metaphor to explain what it felt like to live in a head that couldn't correctly produce and absorb the neurotransmitters that other people did, creating chaos and inattentiveness.
Unfortunately, it explained the benzos and the opioids, but he knew it didn't excuse them. He had become a statistic. A psychiatric cliche. Another person who turned to substances to quiet the loudness of their mind. Another dopamine junkie turned actual junkie.
Sleeping after getting clean had initially been a constant struggle. He would wander around the lonely apartment he had rented after he and Abby had separated, desperate for anything that would make his eyelids heavy and his mind still.
That had changed when Mel came into his life. She had been the only person when he returned from leave who treated him like he was normal. She still looked up to him–wanted to learn from him. And eventually, he began to confide in her and her in him. Her presence quieted his mind in a way that nothing else did. She had unquestionably become his best friend, his favorite person outside of Tanner and Millie, who of course, adored her too. Who wouldn’t?
Not having the sound of her voice and the patience of her attention to fall asleep to the past several nights meant that he was fidgety. On edge, not in a way that was a threat to his sobriety, but certainly a threat to his peace of mind.
He had tried to quiet it in other ways. Two of the four nights, in lieu of their discussions, he had found women to hook up with. Orgasms, he thought, were famous for putting people to sleep. And so both nights, he had invited over women from this app or that. They came over, he made them come a couple of times before fucking them and then he’d paid for them an uber home when they were done. It left him no less restless than before.
But after, the restlessness had been accompanied with something he struggled to name. He had thought about it long and hard before deciding that the closest word he could come up with was hollow. That had never been a problem before. Granted, the last time he had regularly and casually hooked up had been in college. Before Abby. Certainly before–
So his sleep had come in fits and starts, certainly not restful. But tonight, he knew Mel had no plans and they were on the same shift which meant she would want to talk before bed too–to debrief about everything they saw during their shared shift.
Mel strolled up to where he was standing, smiling at him softly, and he felt some of his unease evaporate. They had been on shift for nearly three hours at this point but he hadn’t had any meaningful time with her.
“Hey Frank,” she said, her face was bright, blonde hair tucked into a braid but a strand had come loose and was brushing against her face. He knew that hair was sometimes a sensory trigger for her so he reached out and took the strand of hair between his fingers before tucking it neatly back into her braid.
“Morning, MelBel. Anything good so far?” he asked.
“Just got done stitching up a guy who sliced his hand open with a letter opener. Can you believe that? Who is even still getting physical letters, let alone using a letter opener regularly?” She chuckled, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her.
“Maybe he’s a time traveler,” Frank joked.
“I don’t think so,” she said, earnestly considering it. “His clothes were very stylish and his syntax seemed very modern and casual.”
“Joking, sweetheart,” he said gently. But he loved the way she took things literally.
“Right,” she said, flushing slightly, “That’s funny.”
“Sounds easy enough,” he said,
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. If I come across something more complex, I’ll page you.”
“Okay. I’ll do the same if I find something really interesting.” He loved working complex problems in the ED with Mel. She let him teach, eager to learn from him, but was so smart and so in tune with him that they worked with easy synergy.
“Dr. King?” said a man approaching the two of them at the hub. A good looking guy in a shellacked kind of way. Blonde, wavy hair moussed into place, well-pressed grey slacks and a crisp white shirt, splattered in dried blood. His eyes found Mel, looking her up and down in a way Frank didn’t like.
“Caleb, I told you to call me Mel,” she said, smiling gently.
“Mel, then. I wanted to thank you again for stitching me up. You have really skilled hands.” he said. What a creep, Frank thought.
“Oh. Well. Thank you. It was no problem. It’s my job,” Mel said, seemingly oblivious to the double entendre.
“I was wondering if I could give you my number and maybe we could grab some coffee some time?” He asked. Mel didn’t drink coffee, he almost said, but his voice caught.
“That would be nice,” she said, eyes wide. What? Mel was agreeing to go out with this cornball. It didn’t seem right.
“Okay, well,” he pulled a card out of his wallet, “The number on the card is my cell. I’m free tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll look at my schedule!” Mel replied, sincerely.
“Alright. Well, hopefully I’ll see you soon,” the guy said with a wink, before turning and walking towards the exit.
Frank’s stomach turned over and he turned his body towards her.
“You’re not really gonna text that guy, right?” Frank said, in disbelief.
“I probably will,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“That guy was a total skeeze. He was looking at you like he want to fuc–”
“I’m not naive, Frank,” she interrupted him, sounding indignant. “I know how he was looking at me. Did it ever occur to you that might be something I was interested in? You may not see me as a sexual person, but I do like sex.”
That took Frank aback. Mel never talked about sex. Well, they talked about his sex life plenty, but she never brought up her own.
“Mel,” he tried. “That guy’s not worth your time.”
“You don't know him,” she said bluntly.
“Neither do you,” he countered.
“I know he's handsome and he's interested in me,” she retorted, and Frank didn’t like that she considered him handsome, forgetting that had been his initial impression as well.
“Come on, Melly. You can do so much better than that guy!”
“Have you considered that maybe I can’t?” she asked, hurt touching her voice. “I'm not you, Frank. You look like that and you find people easy and women flock to you just for the opportunity to spend the night with you. I don't get people like you do. I can't just flash big blue eyes and a chin dimple say something snarky and have guys fall at my feet. I'm awkward. I get overwhelmed easily. I'm my sister's only caretaker. I don't exactly have prospects lining up at my door.”
“Mel, you're being ridiculous,” he said, voice sounding a little desperate. “You could have anyone you wanted.”
“No, actually. I quite literally cannot. And I don't want to talk about this with you anymore. I have patients,” she turned about face and walked away, leaving him feeling like he had been slapped.
I quite literally cannot. He turned her words over in his head. Mel was not a person who used the word literally the way people commonly misused it. If she literally could not have anyone she wanted, that meant that she wanted someone, and they had turned her down.
Indignation burned its way up his spine. What kind of moron looked at Mel and thought that they could do better? Mel was like the sun. Just standing in her proximity created warmth and growth in anyone lucky enough to catch her light. Even himself, divorced, cynical, drug-addict Frank Langdon, was kinder, softer, more sincere because he had Mel in his life.
He felt furious on her behalf. But also for reasons he couldn't explain.
His shift dragged on after that. Mel wasn't ignoring him. She wouldn't do that, but she wasn't attached to his side in the way he had come to count on. They ate their lunch together, quickly, like they always did and Frank was careful not to bring up the man who had given her his number.
He was snippy and agitated in a way he hadn't been since he had gotten clean. He almost didn't blame Robby when he pulled him aside after he snapped at a CNA for running into him with a cart.
“What the fuck is going on with you, man?” Robby asked, bewildered but suspicious.
“Nothing,” Frank replied.
“Drug test, now,” Robby demanded, something he was at liberty to do at any time, due to the terms of Frank’s return. And honestly, Frank couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been this irritable since he detoxed.
“I’ll piss in the cup, Robby, but I’m not on fucking drugs,” he retorted.
“Then get it together. Call your sponsor. Go to a meeting. Do something,” He suggested.
Frank had no desire to have the conversation with Robby so he just grabbed an empty specimen cup and headed to the bathroom.
The rest of his day didn’t get better. He knew it wouldn’t until he made up with Mel so he found her at the lockers.
“I’m so sorry, Mel,” he looked down at her, eyes boring into hers. “Of course you should go out with that guy if you want to. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay, Frank. I forgive you. Thank you for apologizing,” her smile seemed a little sad.
“Can I ask a favor?” he asked.
“Sure,” she shrugged.
“Can you text me before and after your date so I know that you’re safe? Or just share your location with me?” He asked.
“Oh! Yeah. I can do both. I hadn’t thought about that but that’s probably a good idea,” her eyes lit up. “Thanks for taking care of me, Frank.”
“Any time,” he said. Some days, finding ways to take care of Mel was the only thing that didn’t make him feel like a piece of shit. “Let me walk you to your car,” he offered.
They walked together in step and Frank, reaching to hold her hand, and he felt settled for the first time in four days. “Can we talk before bed tonight? Please?” Frank asked, and he could hear that he sounded pathetic, but he didn’t care.
“Yeah. Of course. I’ve missed our night talks. I always sleep better after them,” she admitted.
“Me too,” he said, helping her into her car.
Relieved, he headed back to his apartment knowing tonight, sleep would come easier.
—
The next shift, he felt almost back to normal. Almost. Mel had told him on their call last night that she was working a flex shift today, so she had made plans to meet up with the letter-opening time-traveler tonight. They had decided to get ice cream after Mel had admitted she didn’t really drink coffee. He felt nervous about it, apparently on her behalf, but she had already shared her location with him.
The day passed more slowly after she got off shift, time dragging on. She texted him around six to let him know she was at the ice cream shop. He sent back a thumbs up and set about trying to round up as many discharges as he could manage before he clocked out to keep his mind busy.
When he got off work at 7:17, he pulled out his phone as he walked to his car. He had no new messages so he pulled up his texts with Mel.
Everything go okay?
Pretty good, I think. We just finished up?
Dumplings?
Sure. I can be there in 10.
See you then.
He hit a little traffic on the way to their restaurant, so Mel was already seated at their usual booth. Her hair was down and in soft waves and she wore a dress that came to her knees but showed off the delicate turn of her collarbones.
“You know, in all the time that we’ve been friends, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” he informed her as he sat down. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. Samira loaned me the dress. Trinity offered but you know. Her going out style runs a little…”
“Santos,” he finished. He didn’t hold against her that she had been the one to turn him into Robby. If anything, he felt reluctant gratitude towards her. But they were still not each other’s favorite person.
“Yeah. I ordered your favorite dumplings,” She smiled back at him.
“What would I do without you?” he teased.
“Be very, very sad and also, dumplingless, I assume,” she teased back.
“Ain’t that the truth,” he replied and they sat there smiling at each other.
“The date went well, I think!” said Mel, breaking the easy silence. Frank’s stomach soured.
“How so?” he asked, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“We talked. We didn’t have a whole lot in common. He does something in finance that I honestly didn’t really care about. But we ate ice cream.”
“Mint chocolate chip, I assume,” he interrupted.
“Obviously, and then he walked me to my car and he kissed me goodbye,” she said shyly.
“He kissed you after one hour and a half long date? Doesn’t that seem a little presumptuous?” Frank asked. It was only because he knew how particular Mel was about being touched that this upset him, he told himself. Surely this finance bro wouldn’t understand what kind of touches Mel liked and what made her skin itch.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Mel deadpanned. Frank dropped his fork and looked up at her, eyes wide. Mel never swore. The one other time he had heard her do it was after some guy, clearly high, had gotten too close to Becca at the aquarium and almost caused her to melt down. He couldn’t imagine what he had said to warrant it now.
“What?”
“Frank. How many women have you slept with in the past two weeks alone?” Frank didn’t answer. That question seemed better left rhetorical. “Did you go out on a single date with any one of them before you had sex with them?”
“Mel, that’s completely different and you know it.,” he replied.
“Do I? Why is it different? Why is it fine for you to fuck them without so much as buying them a cup of coffee, but Caleb can’t kiss me goodnight after a date?”
Frank froze. He was being a hypocrite. Of course he was. But he couldn’t figure out why.
“Mel, you’re just special,” he said, voice a touch desperate. Mel blanched at the word.
“Every single one of those girls is special to someone. Don’t be a pig,” Mel retorted.
“That’s not what I meant. Of course not. I know that.” Frank was completely flustered. He and Mel never so much as bickered and this felt like their second real fight in as many days.
“So then what’s the problem?” she demanded.
“I really don’t know…” He wracked his brain but came up empty.
“Well if you figure it out, let me know,” Mel said, standing up. She laid a twenty dollar bill on the table before turning and walking out of the restaurant, leaving Frank sitting, at the table dumbfounded, surrounded by untouched dumplings, stomach full of lead.
—
Frank thought about it all night. About why he felt so incensed about Mel’s date kissing her so soon when he was more than happy to take women to bed so casually. He decided he wasn’t being patronizing. He knew Mel was an adult woman, she could do anything with anyone she wanted as long as both parties were consenting. Still, it left a bad taste in his mouth.
He was exhausted the next day as he dragged himself through shift. Mel had the next day and a half off, not working until tomorrow’s night shift, so he couldn’t even find her to try and make up.
He was so tired and miserable, he didn’t even have the energy to be irritable. He went so far as to volunteer for chairs, just so he didn’t have to think too hard, but that earned him another random drug test courtesy of Robby.
He was just standing at the hub, trying to hold himself together for the last two hours of shift when Santos of all people came barrelling up to him.
“Listen, asshole. You’ve got to cut the shit,” she said.
“I’m not on drugs, Santos,” he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the patience to deal with her today of all days.
“I’m not talking about drugs, dumbass. I’m talking about Mel,” she replied, looking at him like he was a moron.
That got his attention.
“What about Mel? Did she say something about me?” He was suddenly wide awake.
“She’s said a lot of things about you. But to narrow it down, she called me and Samira in tears yesterday after she left you guys’ restaurant,” Santos said.
“Tears?” he asked. He had made Mel cry. He felt sick.
“First you make her sit through every dirty detail of your fuckboy sexcapades with every 25-40 year old this side of the Allegheny and pretend like it’s not fucking killing her to hear about it and then she tells about a single goodnight kiss, with the first guy she’s gone out with in, oh, I don’t know, about 8 and a half months and you totally ruin it for her.” Santos looked pissed.
He tried to break her statement into pieces, every new sentence gave him something new to be confused and appalled by. He had been hurting her? Eight and a half months. That was the length of time since he’d returned to work. His brain scrambled to make sense of what Santos was saying.
“What do you mean it’s killing her? I’ve been hurting her? And she just didn’t say anything?” he demanded.
“You cannot possibly be this stupid. There is absolutely no way that you don’t know that Mel is completely in love with you. She listens to you talk about the women you casually hookup with while she does everything else a girlfriend would do for you. You get off on it,” Santos accused.
“Santos, you’re not making any sense. This is Mel we’re talking about. Melissa King. She’s beautiful. She’s brilliant and kind and she makes everything she touches better. I’m a divorced, drug-addicted asshole. She’s not in love with me. That’s just not possible,” he rambled.
“I didn’t say that it made sense. Obviously, she’s out of your league, but she doesn’t see it that way,” Santos told him.
“And I’m not getting off on anything. If you think I would do anything knowing that it caused Mel even an iota of pain, you’re out of your fucking mind. I’d feel any pain you could throw at me if it meant she didn’t have to feel it.”
Santos looked at him, a mixture of perplexed and pitying.
“You really are that stupid, then. Amazing,” she laughed without humor. “Do me a favor. Think about the way you felt when Mel told you Caleb kissed her goodnight. Really think about it. Sit with the way it made you feel for a second,” she seemed to be serious and at this point, he would do anything to fix whatever it was that he had broken with Mel, and so he tried it and found it intolerable. Bile rose up from his stomach.
“Okay. Now imagine she fucked him. And then imagine that she brought you to your special little restaurant and made you listen to the details of… I don’t know… her sucking him off,” A knot formed in his throat and Frank, who hadn’t let himself cry since he detoxed, felt like he needed to sob.
The thought of sitting there while Mel regaled sex with someone that wasn’t him mixed with the feeling of disgust he felt at himself for causing her this kind of pain for months. It was excruciating. There was a non-zero chance he was going to throw up.
“Santos. Are you absolutely sure about Mel?” he demanded.
“About Mel being in love with you? Yes. She has explicitly stated it many times, in varying degrees of sobriety,” She spoke slowly, as though talking to a particularly dim child.
“Santos, I think I’m in love with Mel,” Frank managed.
“I’m sorry. You think you’re in love with Mel? No wonder you ended up divorced and on drugs. Do you have any meaningful insight into yourself at all?” she asked. For once, he was grateful for Santos’ bluntness to the point of rudeness. He needed to be slapped for missing something so huge and so obvious.
Of course he was in love with Mel. It was confounding to him that there was anyone who had met her that wasn’t in love with her. If he really thought about it, the idea of having her, of being worthy of Mel seemed like such an impossibility that his brain hadn’t even let him consider the possibility of them being together. He was certain that if he had, the pain of wanting all of her and not having it would have consumed him.
He thought about the fact that he had put Mel in that exact position, only in this too, she was better than him in every way. She had acknowledged that she was in love with him to herself, but was willing to sacrifice that part of herself so that she could give him her friendship, and have some piece of him in return. His self-disgust worsened.
“You’re right. I’m an idiot. But I don’t deserve her. Especially not after all of this,” he tried to reason with Santos.
“Of course you don’t deserve her. I mean, who does? It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what Mel deserves. And Mel deserves to have what she wants. And for some mind-boggling reason, what she wants is you. So the real question is, are you willing to give her what she wants?” Santos demanded.
“Anything she wants. Forever,” Frank said plainly.
“Then fix it, dumbass,” Santos said, as though it were obvious.
“How?”
“Jesus. Do I have to do all the work around here? Fucking John Hughes that shit, man. Show up at her door in the rain with a boombox or whatever. Just go tell her how you feel,” she said, exasperated.
That much, he could do. He checked his phone for the time before it struck him that she was his lock screen, for god’s sake. Santos was right. He was a dumbass.
“There’s only like two hours left in the shift. Can you cover with Robby for me?” he pleaded.
“I’m not doing shit for you,” she replied, and his heart sank. He didn’t want to wait another minute. “I will, however, do it for Mel,” she added snarkily. “I’ll text Samira. She’s on night shift tonight and always chomping at the bit for a few more hours in this place. She’ll cover you. Especially for Mel.”
“Thank you, Santos. I mean it. For everything. Seriously,” It was the most sincere he had ever been with her and for the first time, Frank thought of all the different kinds of gratitude he owed Santos.
“Yeah, yeah. Get the fuck out of here,” she dismissed him.
Frank drove as fast as could reasonably be construed as safe, a little faster if he was honest. He knew that Becca had movie night at the center tonight, that Mel would be awake and puttering around her apartment until she had to leave to pick her up.
He climbed the two flights of stairs to hers and Becca’s unit two steps at a time. When he reached their doorstep, he stopped a moment–tried to center himself–to remember the grounding techniques he had learned in rehab that he rarely put into practice, before knocking solidly on the door twice.
Mel answered the door. Her hair was down and she wore a tiny ratty pair of sleep shorts. Sadness colored her face but even so, she was luminous. Frank wanted to bask in the light of her.
“What are you doing here, Frank?” she asked softly, her tone was guarded.
“Can I come in please?” he asked.
She looked conflicted. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she answered.
“Please. Just let me come in and say what I need to say and if you tell me to fuck off afterwards, I will. Please, Melly, ” he pleaded, putting both hands up in surrender.
Mel sighed. “I’d never tell you to do that, Frank,” she said. Her voice was tired, but she stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.
He walked to the living space before stopping and turning towards her.
“Mel. I’m so fucking sorry,” he began. “You can’t believe how sorry I am.”
“It’s okay, Frank. I probably overreacted. It’s fine if it’s weird to hear about me kissing guys. I get it,” she replied.
“No. I won’t let you take unnecessary blame to let me off the hook. That is not what is happening here. That’s not even what I’m apologizing for, although I’m sorry about that too.”
“Then I don't think I understand what you're apologizing for,” she said, confused.
“I talked to Santos.”
This pulled her up short, a look of mortification spreading across her face but he pushed on.
“I’m sorry that for months, I’ve made you listen to me talk about so many other girls–that you just had to sit there and hear the details and suffer. The fact that I was causing you so much pain is unforgivable.”
She looked at him, some measure of relief softening her features. “Not unforgivable. Maybe we’re just not the kind of friends who give each other those kinds of details going forward. I want to know you’re happy, but I don’t need the specifics.”
Moving forward. He realized she didn’t understand what he was getting at.
“Mel. I don’t want there to be any details to share going forward,” he tried to explain. “I want you. Just you.”
“I’m confused,” Mel replied, looking puzzled.
“Yeah. I can see that. Okay. I am officially fucking this up so how about I try this another way.” Frank gathered his thoughts for a moment.
“Melissa Elaine King, I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry, not just for telling you about other women, but for being with those other women in the first place. I think I may have broken your heart and I know I don’t deserve you. That has been made abundantly clear to me. But if you’ll let me, I would like to spend a very long time making it up to you. Possibly forever.”
“You’re in love with me? Me?” She said in disbelief.
“Of course I’m in love with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up.”
“But I’m just me,” she said, as though “just her” was somehow not enough to enthrall him.
“Santos said something about that, about you not understanding how utterly out of my league you are. I found it baffling,” he looked down at her quizzically.
“I mean, you’re you, Frank. There’s a reason there was a never ending parade of women lining up for you in the first place.”
“Mel, I’m divorced. I’m a recovering junkie. I’m an asshole. And even if I weren’t any of those things, I still couldn’t hold a candle to you. You’re so beautiful. I mean, physically you’re stunning, you take my breath away. But in everything else too. You take care of Becca. You hold Millie’s hand when she’s scared and you learned about dinosaurs for Tanner. Just talking to you makes my brain a tolerable place to live for a while. You’re the best part of my day, every day.”
“Okay,” Mel flushed, “I will accept the nice things about me but I draw that line at you saying those things about yourself. That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”
Even when he was telling her he loved her, Mel found a way to focus the energy of her kindness on him. Goddamnit. He was gonna love this girl forever.
“So maybe, we could be the kissing kind of friends?” Frank tried for teasing but his tone was a little too pathetic to really manage it.
“Yeah. I would like that,” she smiled up at him, her eyes shining behind her glasses. “You don’t think that a first date is too soon for kissing when it’s you, right?” She asked.
“Absolutely not. But you’re in charge. You set the pace. If you wanted to lay down here right now, I would do so gladly. If you wanted to wait for the fifth date to hold hands, I would happily do that too,” he said earnestly. She was so beautiful and knowing that she wanted him and understanding finally all the ways he wanted her, he was desperate for her. But her comfort was more important than anything.
“That is very stupid, Frank, considering that we already hold hands all the time,” she rolled her eyes at him.
“We do, don’t we? How did I not figure out I was in love with you before today. I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve kind of been my girlfriend the whole time and I was being unfaithful. I’m having a lot of guilt,” he told her, honestly.
“We can talk about that later, if you need to. But right now, could you please just kiss me already?” She said, serious and impatient.
He chuckled. “Now that I can do.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, not softly, using more pressure than he ordinarily would with a first kiss. She pulled up to meet him and moved her mouth against his, opening into him with a sigh. His hands found her hips, and he gripped them firmly, pulling her flush against the expanse of his body.
She brought her fingers up to weave them in his hair, pulling lightly and Frank groaned as her tongue swiped across his lip. He took her lower lip in between his teeth, and she let out an unrestrained moan that went straight to his cock.
Their mouths moved against each other, teeth grazing and pulling, and just kissing Mel like this was the most intimate moment he could remember. He felt solid.
Mel surprised him by pulling back and lifting his shirt at the hem and attempting to pull it off.
“You trying to get me naked, sweetheart?” he asked cheekily.
“No. I just want your shirt off. And mine off. I feel hot. In a good way but also, I’m enjoying myself too much and I don’t want to get overstimulated and for that to ruin the moment.” She said, a little out of breath.
All traces of teasing gone, he replied. “Anything you need.” He pulled his shirt off in time to see her lifting hers over her head. There was no performance, no artifice. She was just taking her shirt off to keep from overheating, she had said, but as she took it off, no bra underneath it, Frank found it unbelievably sexy.
He had only a moment to take in her tits, so soft and heavy and beautiful before she was bringing their mouths back together and dragging them towards the couch. She pulled him to the ratty couch they had spent countless nights on watching movieson and pushed him to sit down before climbing on top of him to straddle him, her mouth only ever leaving his for a second.
With the weight of her on top of him, her breasts at eye level, he was so hard he couldn’t see straight. He had never been this turned on. Her hips ground against his in the most delicious way. Reluctantly, though, he pulled back.
“Hold on a second, sweetheart. Please,” he breathed out, his voice ragged. She whined in disappointment. “I know. I know baby, but I need your yesses and nos.”
She shook out her head like she was trying to come to her senses. “Right. That makes sense. Um. Okay. Don’t say anything that would hurt my feelings.” He scoffed. The memory of the pain he caused Mel fresh in his brain.
“Of course, baby,” he said.
“A little pain is okay. Hard touches are better than soft ones, please,” she said. This much, he already knew.
“And I don’t want to have intercourse yet. No offense but you’ve been with a lot of women lately. I’d like both of us to get tested first. Condoms are kind of hard for me, sensory-wise, and I have the implant, so I’d prefer that we wait until we could just not use them if that’s okay with you.”
The thought of doing that with her, nothing between him, had his head swimming. “Of course. Of course Melly. Anything you want. I want–I mean–I want so much and I–”
“Any yesses and nos on your end,” she asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had just casually, but probably permanently, rewired his brain.
“No nos that immediately come to mind,” he breathed. Her hips were still lightly grinding against him. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind but–” she gave a particularly torturous roll against him and he lost his train of thought and simply brought his mouth back to hers, his hand coming between them to hold her breast in his hand. He took a nipple between his fingers and pinched just this side of hard.
“Oh God,” Mel moaned into his mouth.
“Just me,” Frank joked, but his heart wasn't in it. He was too distracted by the feeling of her pressed against his lap. She was grinding against him in earnest and he took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked. The whine she let out made him feel fuzzy, like his brain wasn't all the way online with so much blood rushing elsewhere.
“Melly, can I touch you please?” He asked, desperate to pull more of those sounds from her.
“You are touching me,” she replied, confused and breathless.
“No. I mean, can I get you off? Please?” he said desperately.
“Oh,” she replied, clarity cutting through the haze. “Yes please. Use your hands this time, I think.”
Hands. He could do that. Anyway she wanted this. Though he knew at some point he'd be willing to beg if it meant getting his mouth on her.
He dipped his hand into her shorts and ran his middle finger through he folds. She was drenched, and he let out a groan to match hers.
“I like fingers inside me. And firm pressure on my clit, usually,” she told him.
Frank wasn't sure anyone had ever given him such explicit instruction on how to get them off. Instead of taking it out of him, it turned him on further. It was just so Mel.
He ran his finger up and down a few times, before gently pushing two fingers inside her. Jesus. She was so tight around him. He couldn't stop himself from imagining how it would feel around his cock and quickly had to redirect his attention before he embarrassed himself.
He pumped in and out of her, and her hips moved up and down to meet his thrusts. He brought his thumb to her clit and applied pressure.
“Yes. Yes please. More of that,” she let out.
He chuckled to himself. “So polite,” he praised and began rubbing his thumb in circles against her as he continued to fuck her on his fingers.
Her whimpers told him she was close already. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, knowing it was better to ask than to touch her in a way that might pull her out of it.
“Hook your fingers a little bit,” she breathed. Frank did as he was told, curving the fingers inside her towards the front of her abdomen and was rewarded with a loud moan. “Just like that. Don't stop,” she told him.
Careful not to change his angle or his pace, Frank continued to push into her while rubbing circles at his clit. She was so wet, the sound between them was loud, vulgar. Delicious. Her breathing sped up steadily until it seemed like she was right at the precipice.
Without changing anything he was doing with his hand, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, grazing it with teeth.
Her back arched as she came, chanting Frank's name over and over as she rode her orgasm out against his hand and his mouth.
She slunk back into his lap, and he pulled his fingers out of her. As he brushed her hair, now damp with sweat, behind her ears, he looked at her in his lap.
“Another?” he asked.
“No, thank you. I have to be in the mood to cum more than once, and I need time between it usually or I get overstimulated in a not-fun way,” she smiled at him.
He sucked his middle and ring finger, still well with her, into his mouth. The taste was out of this world. He closed his eyes and just took a breath to gather himself.
Any efforts to center himself went out the window, though, as Mel reached down into his lap and pulled his cock out of his boxers and pants, and began to stroke him up and down.
“Melly,” he choked out. “Mel, you don't have to–,” he tried.
“Shhh. I want to. Just let me make you feel good for a second, okay? Can you do that?” She asked, her grip around him tight.
“Yes. Yes. I can do that. Anything you want, sweetheart,” he rattled off. He knew his voice sounded a little pathetic but Mel seemed to enjoy it, smiling at him like she was proud of him.
And wasn't that a headfuck.
She pulled her hand off his cock, and he whimpered at the loss.
“Patience,” she chided softly, dipping her hand into the waistband of the shorts they had never taken off. Through the thin material of her shorts, he saw her run three fingers through her cunt and then remove her hand, now glistening.
She brought it back to where he was hard, wrapping her now wet hand around him firmly, and moved it up and down, using her own slick as lube.
His vision went white. Somehow, a handjob when they were both still partially clothed was turning out to be the most profoundly erotic experience of his life.
Her wrist twisted as she pulled up and down, her thumb every so often brushing across the head of his cock when her hand reached the top.
“Mel. Baby. I'm not gonna last very much long–” he ground out.
“It's okay,” she soothed, running her free hand along his tricep. “Just come whenever feels good, okay?”
That was all it took. His hips canted off the couch as his orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks. His come shot onto her hand between them, some landing on her bare stomach. She didn't stop stroking him until he was an overstimulated mess beneath her.
Finally, Frank understood the empty feeling that had accompanied his hookups lately. The feeling that settled over him as Mel nestled into his lap, pressing a kiss to his chest, stood in stark comparison to the hollow feeling that had been plaguing him. He felt whole. Solid and warm. Of course casual sex didn’t make him feel any better. He had unknowingly been trying to fill a Mel-shaped hole in his heart with women who were not Mel.
“That was incredible,” he breathed, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I love you so much. Thank you.”
“I love you too. I can’t believe you love me,” she sighed happily.
“Trust me, sweetheart. The feeling is mutual,” he answered truthfully.
“Just so you know, and maybe I should have said this before, but I can’t do sex casually with you. I really hope that’s not what this was,” she said plainly.
He wrapped his arms around her possessively. “Of course not. The way I feel about you is categorically not casual. And as Santos pointed out to me, you were basically already my girlfriend without the sex. Which I am sorry about by the way, taking advantage of you for emotional intimacy. I didn’t realize I was doing it. Which is selfish and stupid. I know that. But I don’t think I’d ever felt about another girlfriend the way I feel about you, so I just didn’t know how to categorize it.”
“It’s really okay, Frank. I love our relationship. It was just hard having most of it but wanting all of it,” she admitted. “Wait,” she stopped. “You’re saying I’m your girlfriend now?” Her soft brown eyes were wide and excited. The feeling of putting that look on her face hit him smack in the chest.
“You’re anything and everything you want to be to me,” he said. She smiled at that.
“Girlfriend works for now,” she allowed, primly.
“For now,” he agreed.
“Do you mind if we shower? The stickiness is making me uncomfortable and you’ve still got hospital all over you,” she explained.
“Of course,” he replied before glancing at the time on the stove. “But we better make it quick. We need to pick up Becca from movie night in 35 minutes.”
“We?” she asked. “You’re coming with me?”
“I mean, if that’s okay? I figured we could grab her and come back here. Make a few boxes of Annie’s mac and cheese before bed,” he answered, suddenly unsure if she would want him there.
“Bed? Are you sleeping over?” she giggled.
“If you’ll have me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept here,” he answered.
“I don’t know, Frank, isn’t that a little presumptuous. Sleeping with me before we’ve had our first date?” Mel teased. He loved when she was relaxed enough to crack jokes, that she felt that comfortable here with him.
“My sincerest apologies. You’re so right,” he teased back.
“You’ll just have to make it up to me,” she replied.
Frank wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in and holding her close. That, he could do.