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Of course, Frank asks her in front of a patient.
This should not surprise her: Mel knows Frank like a second limb. She understands his moods and tells, even those she probably shouldn’t. But every now and then, he does something so completely daring that she can’t help but be shocked.
And mostly impressed.
Mel blinks, pausing mid-scroll on the tablet in her hands. “You want me to be your plus one to Abby’s wedding?”
Frank glances at the patient, who raises an eyebrow, before clasping his hands together. “Please? It’s my ex-wife’s wedding… I can’t go alone. I can’t seem lame. ”
She should be more upset with him for asking like this - it’s that slightly manipulative thing he does, where he anticipates receiving an answer he may not like, but he knows Mel so well that he understands that she’ll hesitate to be rude in front of a patient - but despite all of that, Mel finds herself sighing and saying, “Of course, I will.” She glances at the man on the gurney, propped up and holding his elbow. “But did you really have to ask me now?”
Frank does that thing where he rocks back and forth on his feet, hair flopping in a messily artful way. “Would it have changed your answer?”
She frowns. “Well, probably not, but that’s not the point - ”
“Excellent!” He claps his hands together, beaming, and if her eyes are momentarily distracted by how his arms flex, that cannot be all on her. Especially when her chest warms and she’s filled with an inexplicable split of both annoyance and fondness.
Mel is too familiar with these mixed feelings. She isn’t sure if she likes it.
(That’s a lie. She enjoys it very much. Craves it, in fact, especially when Frank is the cause.
Maybe that’s why she said yes to going with him to his ex-wife’s wedding - )
“Well, Mr. Rollins, you’re in good hands with Dr. King here…” And Frank just walks out, leaving Mel gaping just a little, before she exhales and shakes her head.
Even sober and almost two years clean, Frank is a tornado of chaos and action. He is restless and drawn to the hardest cases. But now Mel recognizes his moments of calm - when he pauses beside her to exhale, asking a question about the chart she’s filling out. Or when he joins her in the dark breakroom, sitting beside her on the floor, and offering her half of his sandwich. Or even when they carpool together and there are bad days and he stays quiet, letting the bass of her favorite music fill the silence between them.
Frank once mentioned that he felt calmer around Mel. Like when everything around them was an overwhelming storm of noise, she was a lighthouse. He said it while his head was in her lap on her couch, on Friday movie night after Becca had gone to bed and he wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. Her hands played with his hair and his thumb pressed gently against her wrist. Like he was feeling her pulse, reminding himself she was there.
Whenever they wind up in those same spots - her wrist in his hands and his hair between her fingers - she feels grounded. Like Frank is her anchor, keeping her tied to the moment, to the present. Safe.
(That same night was the first time he kissed her wrist, and Mel understood that feeling of her heart wanting to escape her chest.)
A week before the wedding, Mel asks him about the dress code.
“Shit, I didn’t tell you?” Frank shakes his head, thumb rapidly drumming against the steering wheel on their way to the hospital. “Semi-formal. Uh, I have no idea what that really means but Abby said her bridesmaids are wearing dusty blue - ” He curses. “I can’t believe I didn’t mention it.”
Mel glances at him and tries not to smile. “You do that a lot, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Think you’ve told me something that you absolutely haven’t.”
Frank’s forehead wrinkles. “I mean, I feel like I tell you everything all the time, so maybe, yeah, I assume that I would have already told you, you know? Or I guess sometimes you just know … you know?”
She does. Even on their first day together, almost three years ago, she and Frank had an unmistakable understanding. They didn’t know each other - not like they did now - but there was comfortable familiarity and an unspoken agreement to just… check in. Ask.
But no matter how long they’ve been friends, Mel still cannot actually read Frank’s mind. She isn’t sure she would really want to, anyway.
“And you told Abby I’m coming, right?”
It’s not what she was going to ask, but it’s Frank, so she finds herself asking what she really wanted to anyway. It’s hard not to be unabashedly open with him; flayed and vulnerable, completely truthful.
Frank glances at her quickly before making a turn into the parking lot. He doesn’t answer her at first - not until he pulls into his spot and turns off the engine. Then, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face her completely. “Mel… are you sure you’re okay with going with me?”
Mel frowns. “Of course I am. Do you - ” She stops, collects the wayward thoughts suddenly fumbling together. Slowly, she untangles each question. “Does Abby know I’m coming?”
“Yes,” he says, firmly, because he wants her to know he’s serious. “Why are you asking?”
“Because - ” Mel pauses again, trying to find the right words. It’s hard to do that, even with Frank, but he’s patient and kind and Mel exhales slowly. “I don’t want her to be blindsided when you come with someone else.” She hesitates. “Not that I think she’ll be hurt or anything, obviously, she’s getting married, but you’re her ex-husband and everything and I’m…”
“You are?”
“Me,” says Mel, because that’s all she can really say right now.
Frank seems to understand, though - of course he does - because he shakes his head. “Mel, I asked you to come with me for a reason. Sure, part of it was that I didn’t want to seem lame going alone to my ex’s wedding. But…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair, before he leans forward on the center console. “It’s only been a year since the divorce, and I’ve obviously moved on, and while I’m not upset she’s moved on too, it’s just so fast. ”
Mel tilts her head. “Is this an ego thing?”
Frank frowns. “Probably. Well - maybe. Yes?” He shakes his head. “I think so, but still. Having you there will just… make it easier.”
“Okay.” Mel bites her lip as another strand tugs free. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Do you think you’d ever get married again?”
Frank pauses for a moment, thinking through his words instead of rushing to give the perfect answer. His face is serious and thoughtful as he slowly answers, “I’m not sure. Maybe. But like - not for, like, five years, at least. ” His expression clears as he catches her gaze. “Marriage is about… companionship, right? Having a partner?” He tilts his head. “But I have you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re my best friend, Mel. I like you.”
Mel makes a noise, a cross between a laugh and a scoff. “I would hope so.” Frank laughs too, bright and free and it’s so rare that Mel can’t help but grin. “You’re my best friend too.”
(Mel is still grinning later during handoffs when Trinity grimaces. “Look at him,” she says, absently motioning in Frank’s direction. Frank, who Mel thinks appears lighter, his shoulders straighter.
It makes her… proud.
Trinity, however, groans. “He’s too… happy. I don’t like it.” She leans towards Mel, still frowning as Frank greets Whittaker with a hard pat on the shoulder and a wide grin. “It feels unnatural.”
Frank catches Mel’s eye over Trinity’s head and winks.)
Frank’s first day back from rehab was terrible. July 4th weekend, case after case, there’s no time to breathe.
At the end of the shift, Mel stands facing the lockers, phone heavy in her hands. She needs to change out of her scrubs. She needs to pick up Becca. She needs to move - but for whatever reason, her legs feel too heavy.
“Mel?” She looks up at his voice. Already attuned with him again, her chest feels lighter. Frank leans against the lockers, head tilted, already changed out of his scrubs, wearing jeans and a light gray hoodie. “You okay?”
Mel has to smile. “Yes. But shouldn’t I be asking you that? On your first day back?”
He shrugs, nonchalant, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes that wasn’t there when the day began. But there is a lightness to his gait - his shoulders look less encumbered, and he looks less misplaced in his skin. He looks like he belongs , again.
Frank sticks his hands into his pockets and she imagines it’s to feel his pin. To remember it. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He sighs. “Tough first day back, but…” He shrugs again. “But at least I’m back.”
“We missed you,” she says, even though she doesn’t mean to. She looks up at him, hopeful he sees how serious she is. “You are a great doctor, Dr. Langdon. We needed you today… and we still need you tomorrow.”
Mel isn’t quite sure what his current expression means - at least, not until much later when she’s spent enough time with him to read every sentence written on his face and understand the hidden subtext between each syllable he speaks - but in that moment, she sees what he needs her to see: he’s shocked.
Then he blinks several times, shaking his head, and chuckles. “You should call me Frank.”
Mel frowns. “But we’re at work.”
“We are,” he agrees, but he’s smiling - and not the smug grin he plastered on his face with their coworkers, nor the polite and welcoming one he dons with patients - and it’s almost… soft. At least, it makes him look softer. Which Mel did not think was possible on a man as… chiseled as Frank Langdon. He steps a little closer. “But I also think we’re going to be friends.”
Mel has friends now - her and Samira have gotten very close, for example, and that’s exactly who she’s going to find after the shift is over to grab a drink - but there’s something about Frank that makes her brighten. “Really?”
Frank grins. “Really.”
Mel just grins back.
(Eventually, Frank will clear his throat and run his hand through his hair, and when his smile falters, he looks at his feet before saying: “Honestly, I was just looking for you because… well - I know I left without saying bye the first time, so…”
Mel feels something in her chest - an ache, mostly, but also it’s the first time she feels like a part of her body is trying to escape. And then she says: “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and Frank nods and leaves and later - much later - Mel will finally understand that the look on his face was awe and that feeling in her chest is… well - )
The wedding venue is a five-hour drive, so they leave Friday morning intending to stay for two nights and return back to Pittsburgh on Sunday. When they both take off for the entire weekend, Robby raises an eyebrow, but Mel smiles and tells the truth.
“We’re going to Abby’s wedding.”
Robby pauses in the middle of the hallway. “You and Langdon… are going to his ex-wife’s wedding?”
“Yes.”
Robby makes a strange noise - a cross between a sigh and a laugh, perhaps - but shakes his head. “Okay.”
Frank snorts when she tells him this on the car ride over. “Explains how he already knew when I asked him…” He switches lanes on the highway while she skips the next song on the shuffle. “Uh, Santos asked me what the hell I was thinking.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That it’s you. And everything is better with you.”
Mel looks at him - at how calm he looks when he says this, like it’s just simply stating a fact, and ignoring how she wants to grab his arm to wrap herself around it. Instead, she just says, “including watching your ex-wife get married to another man who inevitablywill be a part of your kids' lives forever?”
Frank laughs. “Yeah. Especially that.”
When they arrive on Friday afternoon, everyone is too busy to greet them. But that suits Frank, because after checking into the hotel - one room with two beds, because Frank didn’t see the point of booking separate rooms when they were supposed to be here, together - he leaves to collect Tanner and Millie as Mel unpacks.
They spend Friday night with Tanner and Millie. Millie is the flower girl and Tanner is the ring bearer. While Millie is excited to wear a pretty dress and throw flowers at strangers, Tanner is seven and is nervous he might lose the rings.
When Tanner finally voices this, whispering it against Mel’s side as they sit curled up on her bed, she frowns and looks over at Frank before maneuvering to see the younger boy’s face. “Hey, you’re not going to lose the rings.”
“You don’t know that,” he mumbles, curling into himself.
Frank sinks into the carpet beside the bed, his hands immediately cradling his son, running over his head and along his back. “Tanner, buddy… is this really about the rings?”
Tanner’s lip quivers, but he blinks, as if he’s trying to stop himself from crying. It makes Mel want to cradle him, too. “Why does Mom have to get married to someone else?”
Frank shares a look over Tanner’s head, and quietly, Mel switches places with him. As she backs away, she notices Millie’s attention switch from the television to her father. Lowering his voice, Frank focuses on his son, but his eyes flicker over to Millie too. “I love you both very much. That’s never going to change. And your mom - she loves you too. Nothing will change that.”
“Promise?”
At that point, Mel slips out to the balcony to Facetime Becca. “Hey, everything going okay?”
“Yes! Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be with Frank right now?”
Mel sighs, glancing behind her. Frank has Tanner in his lap, and while he gently reassures him, Millie crawls over to them both. Not to be left out, she wiggles her way into her father’s lap too, until somehow both kids are all over Frank and he looks completely unfazed.
Mel now knows this feeling - that one where her heart bangs against her rib cage, demanding to be set free, wanting to crawl into the space between Frank’s arms and sink into his embrace. Like the missing part of her soul is sitting on that bed.
“Mel, are you okay?”
Mel smiles and nods. “Yeah. Frank is with Tanner and Millie and I didn’t want to interrupt.” She bites her lip, watching how Becca waves at someone she can’t see, beaming. “But I seem to have interrupted your night.”
“I miss you,” says Becca instead. “But Marie just made popcorn.”
Mel laughs. “Don’t miss out. Love you.”
“Love you more than popcorn. Have fun!”
When Mel slips back into the room, it’s to Frank tickling Millie and Tanner laughing and Mel just watches them - watches how Frank laughs, so free and tender. Absently, she rubs her hands together.
Frank notices - because why wouldn’t he, when they are two magnetic fields always circling around the other - and he nods and she smiles and he gestures for her to join them on the bed so she does.
All without speaking, of course.
The next day, Mel wears a simple black dress and tries not to stare as Frank buttons up his dress shirt.
(She is not successful.)
She does ask Frank to help her with the zipper. She can reach it if she really twists in just the right way, but he’s there and this way, she doesn’t have to imagine how it would feel if he were to slowly glide the zipper up, his breath hot against her neck and his fingers lingering by her shoulders, as if he wants to graze her skin but is too afraid to do so.
Mel hears him clear his throat and step away. “You look beautiful,” he says, voice like gravel, as she turns around, and she wants to bottle that sound so she can use it as white noise when everything else is too loud. Frank studies her, from how her hair lies loose on her shoulders, down the curves of her dress, all the way to her bare feet, nails bare, before swallowing. “Wow.”
“You look - you look really good, too,” she says. What she really wants to say, however, is: “You look beautiful too.” So she does, and she takes pleasure in watching the tips of his ears turn red as he looks away, embarrassed, with his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
The drive to the venue is only fifteen minutes, and they drive in silence. But it’s the comfortable silence where Mel is in charge of the music - she picks some indie rock song that Samira introduced her to, more of a vibe than anything else, but perfect for the mood she’s in - and Frank hums along unconsciously.
He grounds her, she calms him.
And when they arrive, Mel offers to hold his hand. Frank does not hesitate to take it.
Naturally, Mel runs into the bride in the restroom.
There is less than twenty minutes before the ceremony is supposed to begin, and seating starts in five, so Mel squeezes Frank’s hand and leaves him to avoid members of Abby’s family by himself so she can take a quick bathroom break.
Just as she’s washing her hands, Abby walks in, fully dressed.
(She wonders why Abby is using this restroom and not a private one reserved for the bridal party. But Mel doesn’t think it’s her place to ask.)
Abby looks gorgeous. Of course. It’s her wedding day. (Again.)
Mel hesitates; she’s met Abby a few times. Usually it’s in passing as she’s dropping something off at Frank’s when Abby picks up the kids. Those meetings have been… cordial. Friendly, even.
But this - attending Abby’s wedding as Frank’s date…
Mel swallows. “You look beautiful.”
Abby smiles, almost wryly. “Thank you.” She glances at the door. “Needed a minute before… you know.”
“You walk down the aisle.”
“Yes.” Abby glances at her before focusing on her reflection in the mirror. There’s a moment where Mel isn’t sure if she should leave, her hands wringing in front of her. But then Abby says, “Frank and I never had a wedding, you know.”
Mel did not know that. Frank mentioned that they had gotten married quickly after finding out she was pregnant with Tanner, but none of the other details, and Mel never asked.
Maybe she should have.
Abby glances at her sideways. “Would you want a wedding?”
“Uh - I don’t think so.” Mel swallows. “No,” she says, more sure. “I do not. Maybe a party to celebrate after but… not as big as this one.”
Abby laughs. “Yes - that’s all Russell, I’m afraid,” she says fondly. “It’s his first, so…” Mel doesn’t know what to say. Abby sighs again before she leans onto the counter, gripping the edge, and exhales. “Oh god, I’m getting married. Again.”
“Are you okay - ” Mel begins to reach out to her, but Abby straightens suddenly.
“You’re good for him, you know.” Abby meets her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “And not in the way where you’re too good for him.” Mel can’t move, her body frozen as Abby smiles, thoughtfully, like her words are more for herself than for Mel. “The way he talks about you… the way he looks at you.” Abby sighs, pushing down against the fabric of her dress, as if collecting herself. “He looked at me like that once, a long, long time ago. But… he changed. I changed.” Abby turns to her, completely, dress swinging, but Mel can’t bring herself to look away from Abby’s reflection - a stunning bride, a symbol of the life Frank used to have. “He’s in love with you.”
“I know.” Not when she means to say, but it’s the truth.
Because Mel does know - she’s known it for a while, a little nagging inkling in her brain. Every smile, every laugh, every time he telegraphed his movements for her, slowly and thoughtfully. Every time he softened his voice, shut off the lights, or slid a protein bar her way.
Frank is in love with Mel. But that isn’t the problem.
Mel turns to face Abby too. “I know he is. But I don’t think - I don’t think he knows that.” Mel bites her lip. “And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.”
Abby tilts her head, studying Mel in a way that makes her only mildly uncomfortable. “Well… if you ever do. Let me know.” She steps towards the door, only pausing to send her a truly friendly smile. “Maybe we’ll go on a double date sometime.”
Privately, Mel does not think she would enjoy that very much - but for Frank, she would.
Mel knew she had a crush on Frank when she visited him in rehab the first time. When he hadn’t shown up for that second shift - or the third, or the fourth, or the… - she immediately recognized the feeling in the pit of her stomach as disappointment.
At first, she felt guilty. Here she was, after just one shift, crushing on a married senior resident.
But then Mel saw Frank again in rehab. And he looked so genuinely surprised and pleased to see her that she shoved any notion of romantic feelings aside and focused on being his friend. Frank needed a friend.
And so did she.
Once Frank was back at the hospital, Mel gravitated towards him. For consultants on cases, for stolen moments during breaks, for drinks after work. She felt her heart rate pick up in his presence. She blushed at his teasing jokes. It felt like she was so obvious with her crush. If she suspected it was something more, Mel never let herself dwell on it for too long.
And Frank… never noticed.
So they remained friends. They started spending more time together after work, with the others and then without, with Becca and with his kids. He drove her home sometimes, when the weather was bad or it was too cold, or it was just one of those bad days. And then he drove her home whenever their shifts aligned.
The guilt remained.
Then, a year ago, Frank told her he was getting a divorce. He insisted that it was a long time coming - that Abby probably only stuck around as a favor to him during his recovery. To give some semblance of stability for Tanner and Millie. That they were no longer in love with each other, trust irrevocably broken, and it was better for them to try as coparents than fail as husband and wife.
Mel recognized the feeling that arose at the news - it was joy, and relief, and then… guilt. Again.
At that point, Mel knew she was in love with him. She missed him when he wasn’t there, she looked for him when he was, and she never flinched when he reached out to touch her. They were best friends, but she was in love with him, and nothing mattered more than keeping him in her life.
In a way, that made her selfish. But Mel decided that if there was one thing she was going to be selfish about, it was Frank.
So she stayed quiet. But she took her indulgences: when Frank finally got his own place, she went furniture shopping with him. Whenever his back pain flared up, she offered a massage. When she was upset and hurting, she didn’t hesitate to step into his open arms and bury her face into his chest.
And that was when she noticed that Frank seemed to indulge in her too.
Mel does not cry at the ceremony, although she finds her vision blurring when Russell takes Abby’s hands and says I am not just marrying you, I am marrying your family, for better or for worse. Frank glances over in her direction, and Mel does not look back, but she does squeeze Frank’s hand, intertwined with hers in her lap.
During the reception, the speeches are a standard affair. Abby’s friend from college only makes one joke at Frank’s expense, which he raises his glass to gracefully with a familiar wry smile. Russell’s best man - his younger brother - is appropriately embarrassing and sweet and Mel smiles when Abby ruffles his hair after their hug.
Frank’s knee starts shaking during the first dance. Mel hesitates - she’s never once laid her hand on his thigh to calm him. But usually, they are not in a room full of strangers in the middle of a formal reception. Mel leans into him. “You okay?”
“Can I hold your hand?” he asks in response. Mel blinks but slips her hand into his. He immediately squeezes it once and then twice more before exhaling.
Their clasped hands sit on his now still thigh.
He only lets go when dinner is served. He’s calmer now, more like his usual laidback self, and only the occasional twitch of his jaw lets Mel know he’s not quite as comfortable as he seems.
At some point towards the end of dinner, Frank hooks his foot on the back leg of her chair and slowly drags it - and her - towards him. Mel sends him a wary look in between bites of fish.
“What?” he says innocently as if he doesn’t lean closer, laying his arm on the back of her chair. He’s hovering, almost cocooning her. “I’m not allowed to sit close to my date?”
Date. That’s a first. His smug grin turns into a smirk when she looks at him unimpressed. “I’m trying to enjoy my dinner.”
Frank hums, his fingers now playing with the ends of her hair. “No one is stopping you.” His eyes scan her for a moment before studying the people around them. He frowns deeply. “I didn’t realize how much I didn’t care for Abby’s family.”
“Why?”
“Her mom is okay - a little micromanaging but mostly fine. Her dad is… well. Probably a little homophobic.” Frank smoothly spears a carrot off her plate with his fork, so she retaliates and steals one of his potatoes.
“How can someone be a little homophobic?”
“When they say they’re totally fine if someone was gay, but when their son-in-law accidentally slips that he’s kissed a man before and is actually bi, it’s suddenly the end of the world.”
“Hmm.” Mel leans into him, just a little hint of comfort, before swallowing her mouthful. “I think that just makes them homophobic.”
Mel likes this - sitting in their own little world, Frank’s arm around her while they gossip and share food. It feels very domestic.
It scares her.
She doesn’t want it to end.
And then the dancing starts.
At first, it appears Frank is content to just sit with her, picking at the scraps of their meals. But then the DJ plays a slow song and a strange look passes over his face.
“Mel. Dance with me?”
Her mouth feels dry. “You want to dance?”
“With you. Yes.” He offers his hand. “Please?”
And when he looks at her like that, with a twinkle in his eye and soft smile on his lips, she is incapable of saying no.
So Mel nods and takes his hand and Frank leads her to the dance floor. Frank pushes his way to a corner where they’re likely to be brushing up against other people. Her hand drags up his chest to rest on his shoulder and Frank pulls her closer, his hand slipping from her waist to the small of her back. And then they sway, slow and steady: it feels like a metaphor for their entire relationship until this point. Something in Mel’s chest clicks together, like a puzzle piece, and she looks up at him.
Frank stares back. Bright blue eyes, dimpled chin, chiseled jaw. She has mapped out all the terrain of his face, memorized each line and lyric, until he’s written himself into the crevices of each bone and each wrinkle of her brain. Mel is not usually one for metaphors, but there is no other way to describe her love for this man other than: etched.
His fingers lightly run along her spine and she shivers. He pulls her closer. Her fingers sink into the hair at the back of his neck. Little touches, little moments, in-sync breath and movements.
There’s safety here as they dance together; she’s in his arms and he hasn’t looked away and Mel has never been able to keep a secret from Frank Langdon, especially when he looks at her like that.
“Abby thinks you’re in love with me.”
Frank freezes. “What?”
Mel keeps swaying anyway. “Abby thinks you’re in love with me.” She places her head on his chest, words muffled now but she suspects he can still hear her. The vibrations from his breathing are soothing. “I think she’s right.”
Frank says nothing. He continues to dance with her, hold her, but she knows his mind is everywhere else. Feeling bold, she presses her lips against the space right above his racing heart and smiles.
The song ends and another one begins, this time upbeat and some of Russell’s younger cousins are yelling out the lyrics and Frank still doesn’t say anything as he leads her back to their table.
“You ready to go?” he asks her a little while later. He gazes over at Abby, briefly, where she’s still dancing with Russell, ignoring the song change. Tanner and Millie went back to the hotel with Abby’s parents right after dinner so there really is no other reason to stay.
So Mel nods. Frank grabs their coats and leads her to the happy couple for a quick goodbye - a firm handshake with Russell and a kiss on the cheek with a whispered congratulations for Abby - before they slip away to his car.
He holds her hand the entire time.
If anything, it’s Samira’s fault.
She’s the one who brings up emergency contacts.
“My sister lives in Maryland with her husband and kids,” says Samira with a soft smile, “but I know she’d come up if I needed her.”
Trinity leans against the nurse’s counter. “My condition to Huckleberry staying in my apartment was that he had to be my emergency contact.”
Samira raises an eyebrow. “And he agreed?”
“Not like he had a choice.” Trinity narrows her eyes and turns to Mel. “Who’s your emergency contact?”
“Uh.” Mel avoids looking over at her coworkers, instead focusing on the patient board above her. “I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean you don’t have one?”
Mel closes her eyes at his voice. Of course, this is the moment that Frank chooses to leave his patient to join them. Slowly, she turns, ignoring everyone else staring at them like two players in a tennis match. “It’s just Becca and me, and I can’t exactly put it on her if there was an emergency - ”
“I’ll be yours.” When Mel blinks at him, mouth agape, he huffs and pushes his hands into his pockets, back straight and tone firm. “I’m serious, put me down as your emergency contact.”
“Dr. Langdon, you can’t be serious - ”
“I am.” He glares at their coworkers: they’re pretending not to be obviously entertained by the conversation in front of them, and most of them - other than Dana, who pointedly crosses her arms in their direction - pretend to look away. Frank looks down at her as he lowers his voice. “Mel, you can’t not have an emergency contact. I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” Hesitantly, she nods. He softens. “Then sign me up.”
“I can’t ask you to - ”
“You’re not asking me.” His hand flinches on the counter as he tries to use his body to shield her from everyone else. “I’m demanding it, like the dick I am.” He says this with a familiar lilt to his tone, teasing and bright, but still unmistakably serious.
“You’re sure?” she asks, finally, fingers twisted together with the bottom of her shirt. This feels… big.
Frank nods. “Yes.” He clears his throat and steps back, just a little. “Besides, I’ve had you down as my emergency contact for a while now.”
And that day, as that piece of news sinks in and Frank pointedly looks anywhere else except at her, Mel knew.
He loved her too.
“You were right.”
Mel glances over, unsurprised to find him gripping the steering wheel hard, his lips thin. He looks - tired. Resigned? Or maybe -
“I usually am,” she says flatly, and her stomach flutters when his lips quirk up in a grin. “What am I right about this time?”
“I am in love with you.”
Mel stares. She knows this, obviously, but to hear him say it out loud -
“It’s not fair to have this conversation while you’re driving.”
Frank sends her a quick look. “Okay. Do you want me to pull over or…”
“I can wait. But - can you say it again?”
“I love you,” says Frank, grinning, pressing a little harder on the accelerator as he flips on his turn signal. “I am in love with you.”
“Okay.”
Mel scrolls through her playlist and picks a new song. As Frank drives them back to the hotel, she focuses on the lyrics rather than fixating on his voice echoing in her head.
I love you. I am in love with you. I love you. I am in love with you. Iloveyou. Iaminlovewithyou.
When Frank pulls into the hotel parking lot, he shuts off the engine and turns to face her. His face is deadly serious. But his hands shake as he reaches for both of hers. His thumb run along the skin of her wrists. “Mel… You’ve got my heart in your hands.”
Her lips quiver. “Frank - ”
“Mel. I love you. Whenever you smile or laugh or have to clarify a joke or are so focused on a patient, you miss everything else… god, you’re just so - you. You make me - you make my chest ache … like my heart is just trying to escape to be reunited with yours.”
And Mel understands him so completely. Because her heart has been trying to do the same, for at least a year, if not longer. Because since the day they met, something in her recognized something in him and he’s always, always felt like home.
“I love you,” says Mel, realizing this is the first time she’s said it out loud. When pure joy breaks out over his face, Mel feels it matched by the fire growing in her chest. “I am in love with you, Frank. You - you’re my best friend and my safe space, but… I’ve had a crush on you for so long and then one day I just knew . But, I wasn’t sure if you were ready and you had so much going on in your life, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me.”
“I want you,” says Frank, briskly and pointedly, his gaze never leaving hers. “If you’ll have me.”
Mel wants to kiss him. But he’s too far away, and they’re still sitting in his car, but they have an entire room just minutes away… “I think we should go inside.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” Mel unbuckles her seat belt and picks up her purse. “And then we should go to our room. And then, you should kiss me.”
Frank grins. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” She opens her door and she raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, come on. Let’s move!”
His laugh echoes in the night and vibrates under her skin, and Mel wants to run . But Frank grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers together, pausing for a moment to kiss the back of her palm. Mel closes her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his lips against her skin. When her eyes open, he’s looking at her again - eyes filled with affection and fondness and a darkened heat that makes her stomach flip. “Mel?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Here?”
He nods. “Here. Right now.”
Mel steps closer. “Okay.”
Mel has imagined what their first kiss would be like. Hot and hungry, in a bout of passion, like all her favorite romance novels. Soft and gentle, tentative and exploring, like most of their friendship. Awkward and fumbling, dreadfully uncomfortable, just like so many of her previous first kisses.
Mel cannot describe what it feels like to kiss Frank Langdon for the first time. So she doesn’t bother. She sinks her fingers into his hair and lets him pull her against his chest and melts into the embrace, into the kiss, savoring every taste of his lips and every pull of his teeth. How his tongue drags against her own and how he holds her face so he can kiss her deeper.
Mel can’t describe this kiss. She can only feel it.
The only word that comes to mind is inevitable.