South15

Oliver’s arrival brought a different set of challenges. Tanner and Penny didn’t quite understand the concept of half-siblings or blended families yet but the distinction that Mel was Ollie’s mother and not Abby was clear from the beginning, and that seemed to fill them with unease.

They loved Mel and she loved them as if they were her own, but they acted tentative around her those first few days, seeing how preoccupied she was feeding and caring for Oliver—they couldn’t help but feel pushed aside and left out. Mel, being a sensitive person, could see them struggling internally. She anticipated that the initial fascination with a new baby might be replaced with jealousy, anger or even sadness, but she didn’t overstep and gave Frank the space to talk to his children without judgement.

“I’m gonna need you to look out for Oliver.” Frank sat them down while Mel and baby slept. “Of course he’s always going to have me and Mel to take care of him… but you’re his big brother and sister. He’ll need you too, especially when he gets bigger, to teach him things, set an example… love him. It’s a big responsibility but I know you can do it because you’re great kids and you have a lot of love in your hearts. What do you say? Can you do that for Dad?”

He watched their heads nod, Tanner’s more tentatively. “Yes Daddy,” Penny said. “I love Oliver already.”

“That’s my girl,” Frank smiled. “He’s gonna love you two like crazy. He can’t tell you right now, but he will soon.”

“When?” Tanner asked, still non-committal.

“Every baby is different. You started talking around a year old. Penny was a little earlier. She started talking at 10 months.”

“She never stops talking,” Tanner whined.

Frank laughed, looking over at his daughter who wasn’t offended, clearly proud to be a talker just like her Dad.

“There’s a lot going on right now with the new baby, but you’re just as important to me and Mel,” he said. “We love you so much. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

They were finishing off their first round of drinks and nibbling on appetizers when Mel saw a familiar figure sitting by the window.

“That’s him,” Mel squeaked.

“Who?” Samira asked, following Mel’s eyeline.

Mel leaned in and whispered. “The doctor from the plane. Frank.”

“The one you drooled all over?”

“Didn’t drool, just slept on. Inappropriately. Apologized profusely afterwards.” Mel knew her friend was teasing, but still.

“Hmm.” Samira was staring at him. “Give me the deets again?”

“Emergency Attending at Presby. Two kids. Was gracious about me using his shoulder as a pillow without asking first. Bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. Unmistakable ring on his finger.”

Samira turned back around. “He mentioned his kids but not his wife?” Mel nodded. “Maybe he’s separated? Or… he’s a widower like Jack who still wears his ring?”

“Or you’re forgetting a third possibility,” Mel posited.

“Okay?”

“He’s a shameless philanderer who picks up women on airplanes.

Samira burst out laughing. “What’s in your drink? I should have ordered that instead.” It was a Tomatini and it was delicious. “Mel, he’s sitting alone with his laptop open and nerdy glasses on. It’s not giving cheater.”

“What does a cheater look like?” Mel asked, slightly offended.

“Not that,” Samira said.

“I thought I would have seen him at the conference, but—” Mel sounded wistful.

“So you were thinking about him?”

Mel shrugged. “He was nice and a good listener.”

“There was a vibe?” Samira asked

“Whatever that means.”

“First you meet on a plane heading to the same medical conference,” Samira started, “and now out of all the lounges we could have gone to tonight, he’s at this one? I think the stars have aligned.”

“I think you’re being overly romantic,” Mel said.

“Maybe I am but since Jack and I are currently in a cooling off period, I must live vicariously through you,” Samira said. “I’m so bummed I had to take a different flight and miss your little meet cute.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “If you’d been there I wouldn’t have fallen asleep on him.”

“I take that back then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mel sighed, “we’re going home tomorrow. To Pittsburgh.”

“Where he also lives,” Samira grinned.

“And she’s back,” Garcia teased.

“Lay off, YoYo,” Langdon hissed. And then in that concerned voice without a hint of condescension she appreciated from him, “You okay, Mel?”

“Yes,” she nodded unconvincingly.

The ruptured spleen patient was stabilized and Garcia followed them up to surgery, shaking her head the entire time.

“Dr. King, you need a break.” Mel frowned at Al-Hashimi to fight her on it and then at Langdon for back-up. Neither budged. “This isn’t up for debate. Go take ten and clear your head.”

Langdon eventually found her in the ambulance bay, in the spot that had become theirs.

“Sorry, that was very unprofessional,” she said.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Mel. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Between the ongoing malpractice suit and Becca pulling away, she most certainly wasn’t okay. She could easily say yes and deflect, but he was so in tune to her microexpressions and little tells he’d see right through the lie. Besides, she wanted to talk to him. He’d become her touchstone.

“I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” His transition back to the ED had been rough, distrustful eyes following him everywhere. And there were those rumours about his marriage.

“Not to sound insensitive, but I could use the distraction.”

It had no business being a funny moment, but she laughed and he grinned, very proud of the growing blush on her cheeks.

“Was it something I said?” He chuckled.

“It wasn’t even one of your good ones, Captain Scurvy,” she giggled.

“I’ve set a new bar then. Make Mel King laugh with the random shit jiggling around in my head.”

“What?” He postured. “It exudes strength. Why have only one when you can have two?”

“O-kaaayyy.” She parsed that explanation through her brain. “Isn't it enough that you named your dog Jagger?”

“Our dog, and that wasn’t for Mick, it was for Jaromír Jágr.”

Because that was different somehow. Mel suddenly imagined Abby having this same conversation when they were naming Tanner and Penny.

“Frank, I love you.”

“And I love you—”

“But… I would really love it if our child wasn’t named after some famous person. I’d prefer something unique to our family.”

“Baby, my parents named me Frank,” he groaned.

“A strong name symbolizing authenticity and integrity,” she countered.

Frank grinned proudly because only Mel could make his stupid name sound exceptional. “Alright, Melissa King-Langdon, love of my life—what names were you thinking of?”

It sucked for Mel but it was just the reminder she needed that going to a different school was the right decision. Frank would be out of sight and thus out of her mind, and she could try to go on as if she’d never fallen for him and his sapphire blue eyes that followed her everywhere and his spikey, wayward hair that needed a cut, and his long fingers that cradled over hers perfectly as he pulled her into the water.

She could go into full denial that they finished each other’s sentences so seamlessly, and even though literal telepathy didn’t exist (although wouldn’t it be awesome to be actual vampires from the Twilight series) they were pretty sure they’d perfected the art of mind reading.

How could she forget the day he told her you’re the sun to my moon—without your light I don’t shine. He’d said it so easily and it had been seared into her insides with a figurative cautery pen ever since. Would his light dim with her being 800 miles away?

“Mel, you haven’t said anything about my ring.” Abby had a tinge of disappointment in her voice, dangling her finger right under Mel’s nose as if she needed it to be that close to see it. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s beautiful Abby,” Mel placated, studying the white gold band. Or maybe it was sterling silver. She wasn’t sure. “It suits you.”

Mel took a long look at Frank, who was huddled in the corner talking to one of his track teammates. She caught sight of a ring similar to Abby’s on his finger.

“No, seriously. You’re a fit, attractive guy. At Tanner’s soccer games, all the men do is complain about their divorces and Dad bods.”

“I thought Dad bods were cool?”

“Apparently that trend fizzled out after Covid.”

“You’re in good shape.”

“I’ve always been a lean guy and I try to stay active.”

Abbot tracked back. “You still haven’t given a reason why you didn’t see Sam and I together.”

“Oh, right. I dunno, you just don’t seem like each other’s type.”

“Speak for yourself kid,” Abbot huffed a laugh.

“I know,” Langdon rolled his eyes. “The entire state of Pennsylvania wants to know what Mel’s doing with me.”

“It takes nothing to join the crowd. It takes everything to stand alone,” Abbot said poignantly.

“That’s deep man.”

“I didn’t write it,” Abbot shrugged.

Langdon snorted. “My reputation precedes me but Mel sees past the bullshit. She’s so patient and supportive. She gets me. She’s the best.”

“Well, that’s also my answer to you. Sam and I get each other.”

“That’s fair. It’s a beautiful thing when another person sees you so clearly. Sometimes it’s unnerving.”

“Sure,” Abbot agreed, “nothing beats not having to say a word and you’re completely understood.”

Langdon nodded. “Think you’ll ever get married again?”

“I don’t know—” Abbot trailed off. “You?”

“I’d go to the courthouse tomorrow. Big or small wedding, I’m down for whatever Mel wants.”

“Very noble. Seems like you’ve got your head on straight.”

“You mean since getting busted and going to rehab?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I didn’t have much choice if I wanted to keep practicing medicine.”

“You had a choice. You made the smart one this time.”

“Thanks,” Langdon smiled sheepishly.

“But if you hurt Melissa King—”

“Don’t worry, there’s already a long list of people who’ve threatened to slice my appendages off, most of them doctors who know how to work a scalpel.”

“Just saying,” Abbot said.

The ladies arrived back at the table, laughing mid-sentence. Samira tucked in next to Abbot. Mel did the same beside Langdon.

 “You two getting along?” Samira asked.

“Always.” Abbot had a cheeky grin. “Although, Langdon admitted he was surprised about us.”

“That we’re dating?” She asked

“I didn’t see it at first,” Langdon shrugged. “Don’t listen to me. I don’t know anything.”

“Mel, are we sure about this self-deprecating routine?” Samira teased. “I think I preferred when he was an asshole.”

“I’m not sure who this asshole is that you speak of,” Mel shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve never met him.”

Langdon beamed at her.

Mel imagined having a friend like C.C. Bloom, someone so different from her. A friend who was sparkly and bubbly and wore dresses with glitter, sequins or feathers, who had a fiery hot temper and the voice of an angel, and was there for her friend whenever she needed her.

Mel hadn’t even thought about the film until it popped up on her Because You Watched algorithm on Netflix. She hesitated on the remote, eyes fixed on the preview. Memories flooded back with all that had been lost as Wind Beneath My Wings played in the background.

Frank, sprawled out on the couch with his head in her lap, felt her hesitation. “You wanna watch this?”

Brows pinched, Frank thought he may have misheard his girlfriend. “What?”

Mel cleared her throat. “She’s distressed that thousands of silkworms were murdered to make her dress—yes, murdered—her words—don’t look at me like that, Frank!”

“Are you kidding me right now?” He huffed a laugh so hard, he almost choked. “Mel, baby, please tell me this is a joke you two made up. Ha ha, the King sisters are so funny, pulling a prank on ol’ Frank.”

Mel groaned. “She said it would be wrong to marry the man she loves, profiting from the killing of innocent moths who were deprived of being with their loved ones.”

Frank was incredulous. “The dress has already been made.”

“But wearing it would desecrate their memory,” she sighed.

He suddenly felt very tired. “Apologies to the poor silkworm community, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but those worms are worm food.”

“Frank!”

“Maybe we can make a donation to the silkworm society of Pittsburgh. I’m sure there is one.”

“You’re being ridiculous now.”

“I’m—I’m being ridiculous?” He chuckled. “We really should have hid her phone.”

“Be serious. Yes, Becca is in the middle of an ethical crisis but she's also getting married in two days and we don’t have a dress!”

“I remember watching this film about silkworms actually. Keira Knightley was in it—”

“Frank, this is not the time. Help me!"

“Okay, okay. Sorry baby.” He pulled one of her hands into his lap, squeezing it to calm her. “So… the issue is that Becca’s dress wasn’t ethically made.”

“Right,” Mel nodded.

“So we need to find an ethical alternative.”

“Correct.”

“And we're in a serious time crunch.”

“We have a solid day and change to source a new dress that won’t require any major alterations and can be picked up right away.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Let me do a Google search,” Mel brightened. 

“That fucking search engine is precisely why we’re in this mess,” Frank quipped.

Mel rolled her eyes at him and Becca’s incoming text—Mel, I’m not wearing that dress! She pulled up a list of ethical fabric options, keeping in mind they’d have to be suitable for the occasion and more importantly feel comfortable against Becca’s skin. A huge task but nothing the team of Mel and Frank couldn’t solve.

It broke his brain for a few seconds, because why isn’t the guy she’s marrying her best friend? It’s a question that’s been cauterizing a hole inside his heart for months and now he’s at his breaking point taste testing decadently sweet wedding cakes.

“What do you think?” Mel smiles, her beautiful brown eyes locked on his. “The lemon with lavender frosting or the vanilla bean with strawberry buttercream?”

What Frank thinks is he can’t let her marry Chase, who’s not her best friend.

“Oh I clocked that a while ago,” Princess countered smugly.

“He still wearing that ring?” Perlah asked her.

“Yep,” Princess nodded, popping the ‘p’ for added effect, “although it’s hanging on for dear life.”

“What’s the deal?” Perlah eyed Dana. “You know the wife. Are they still together?”

Dana shrugged, regretting that she’d initiated this gossip session and delicately tried to walk it back. “She’s a good woman. Been through a lot is all I’m gonna say.”

“Probably been to hell and back based on what happened,” Perlah grunted. “You’d think he wouldn’t be so obvious about this.”

“You’d think, but they can’t all act like a certain Attending and his favourite protégé. All I know is where there’s smoke there’s usually fire,” Princess crooned in sing-song, “and those embers are burning hot.”

“Okay you two,” Dana tutted, signalling that this conversation had reached its expiration.

Robby walked up to the desk, looking curiously between the three of them. “How are we doing? Anyone need me?” He also had eyes like a hawk and there was no way he hadn’t peeped the show in front of them.

“We got a handle on things, Chief,” Dana replied. “We’ll call if we need you.”

During one of her press conferences, she was asked as much.

“You’ve set a fashion trend with young people because of the glasses you wear on court. How does it feel to be a social media trendsetter?”

“I wear them so that the ball travelling over 100 miles an hour in my direction doesn’t hit me in the face.”

It seemed like the most obvious answer, but it elicited laughter from the gathered press corp. They lapped up little crumbs like this so easily and it made Mel shake her head. Langdon stood off to the side, watching her with reverence, basking in her ability to be funny and endearing without much effort.

“If wearing glasses on court takes away some of the stigma, that it doesn’t matter what you look like, that safety is the most important thing—then I can deal with being a trendsetter I guess.”

“Can we ask why you wear glasses?” A reporter from ESPN asked.

Mel hummed. “Oh wow, we’re getting really technical today. Um, I have astigmatism, which is essentially blurry vision at all distances. My sister and I were both born with it. Without my glasses I’d be bumping into everything. So yeah, that would not be ideal trying to maneuver around a tennis court.”

“Do you ever wear contacts?” Another journalist asked.

“Sometimes I do—for special occasions. I wore them on court when I was younger. I probably thought they were cooler than nerdy glasses. I’m glad I got over that.”

And because of course someone was dying to ask it. “Do you like the kingdon moniker?”

“It’s definitely creative,” Mel shrugged, knowing that probably wouldn’t satisfy them. It didn’t and prompted five follow-up questions.

After the presser, Langdon was glowing with compliments. “You handled that like the pro you are.”

Mel huffed a laugh. “They spent 20 minutes asking me about my glasses.”

“They’re cute glasses,” he said.

“They kept quoting the Lord’s Prayer,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “Why do they have to be so weird?”

“You’re the new ‘it’ girl,” Frank smiled. “They’re interested in what makes you stand out from the rest.”

“I didn’t plan to but… then I saw this design in the catalogue and—”

“Let me see.” Mel puts the mirror down and juts her hip out to give him a better view. “Wow, it’s really sexy,” his voice, suddenly low and raspy.

“Surprise?” She says, a cross between feeling sheepish but also proud that for once she did something spontaneous.

“A nice one,” he replies, tracing around the horseshoe with his middle finger, careful not to touch the slightly swollen skin directly. Mel hums at the sensation. “Is it sore? Like… can we do stuff?”

“It’s not sore,” she smirks, catching his drift.

Frank’s eyes darken and he drops to his knees. He pulls the waistband of her underwear further down, and with a firm hold of her thigh, ghosts his mouth over the ink, lightly blowing on it. Mel’s legs instantly feel like jelly. Frank feels her thigh tremble and looks up to catch her knowing gaze. He lets out a low growl, gets to his feet, and leads her by hand into the adjoining bedroom.