More Than Friends by Erin Dutton Page B

shoulder. In the darkness, she pretended not to notice that Melanie’s arm lay across her stomach.
     
    *
     
    Evelyn slammed her hand down on the nightstand, but the blaring sound of her alarm clock didn’t stop, and her fingers encountered only smooth wood. She opened her eyes and stared across the surface of the nightstand at Melanie’s clock, several inches past where hers should have been sitting. She stretched and turned off the alarm. Over her shoulder, Melanie still slept soundly.
    She rolled to her back and shoved a hand through the front of her hair. She’d slept in her clothes, and the sheet was twisted and tangled around her waist. She slowly worked herself free, trying not to wake Melanie.
    “Oh, hell,” she groaned. She had to meet Kendall in thirty minutes and pretend she hadn’t slept next to her ex all night.
    Melanie murmured and shoved her arm farther under her pillow. A strand of hair fell across her face and Evelyn gently swept it back with one finger. She didn’t want to hurriedly throw her clothes on and scramble off to breakfast. She wanted to stay.
    The guilt that followed in the wake of that thought compelled her off the bed—quickly. She strode across the room and studied herself in the mirror, finger-combing her unruly hair. Her clothes were a lost cause, but she kept an extra pair of jeans and T-shirt in a backpack in her car. She never knew when she might draw a special assignment with vice that required civilian clothes.
    “Hey,” Melanie said from behind her, her voice rough with sleep and last night’s activities. “You stayed.”
    “Yeah. I did.”
    Melanie propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to babysit me last night.”
    She sat on the edge of the bed. “Please, I had a good time. How are you feeling this morning?”
    Melanie winced. “Uh, hung over. You?”
    “I’m good.” She’d stopped drinking well before she’d have to worry about a hangover. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
    “Are you sure? I could make you breakfast.”
    Evelyn laughed, a short bark born mostly of the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m—um, supposed to be meeting Kendall in twenty minutes.”
    “Post-date breakfast?”
    Shit .
    “You didn’t have a date last night.”
    She stood quickly, searching for her shoes. Before she could string together an explanation that wouldn’t be a lie, Melanie spoke again, quietly.
    “Oh. I see.” Melanie’s expression filled with pain and she wanted to erase it.
    “Mel, I—”
    “Please, don’t.” Melanie held a hand up. “I don’t want to make you feel you have to lie to save my feelings.”
    She sighed and sank back onto the bed. Melanie scooted up until she leaned on the headboard. She let her head fall back against the wood with a dull thud, but she didn’t speak. Evelyn remained silent as well, not sure what to say—what Melanie would want to hear right now. So she covered Melanie’s hand with her own, and when Melanie laced their fingers together, she held on, not caring that she’d be late.
    “I’m trying not to ask you when she started dating again,” Melanie said after several minutes of silence.
    “Last night was the first.”
    “I guess four months is long enough.”
    “Are you having second thoughts?”
    “No. I can’t say I don’t miss her at times, but when you spend so many years with someone…”
    She nodded.
    “The separation was the right thing to do. But I hadn’t thought about how I’d feel to hear she was going out with other people.” Melanie smiled, but the usual spark didn’t light her eyes. “It’s partly ego, I guess. I’d like to think I’m hard to get over.”
    “You were. But I get it. You don’t want her to be miserable but not necessarily happy either.” She squeezed Melanie’s hand.
    “Exactly.” Melanie squeezed back, then released her. “Go. You’ll never make it there in twenty minutes.
    “You okay?”
    “I’m fine. Thanks for