Date number two was a relaxed event, consisting of a trip to the movies to see a cheesy romantic comedy that, Melody noticed, Carlton had seemed to enjoy more than she, although he denied it afterwards. Upon leaving the theater, the pair took a walk along the boardwalk and held hands, feeling distinctly love-struck and foolish but not caring too much.
Date number three took place during a lunch break. Melody brought him a brown paper sack and asked if he would eat with her on a bench just a little ways away from the station. They spent the half-hour talking about superficial subjects: high school, college roommates, dream vacations, embarrassing moments. If anyone noticed Detective Lassiter's hand on the small of the receptionist's back when the pair came back to the station, they were tactful enough to mind their own business and go back to work.
Date number four, however, had Carlton in a state of agitation as he stood in front of the mirror, inspecting the third shirt that he had tried on that evening. Everything had to be perfect tonight. Melody was coming over and he was going to cook for her, and then he was going to tell her about his divorce.
They had successfully avoided the topic of past relationships in the three weeks that they had been dating, not wanting to rush into anything too serious too soon. Talking about exes within the first few dates was strictly taboo, a warning sign that the loony sitting across the table from you was going to compare you to their last significant other from the moment you first opened your mouth. Discussing the last person to reside in your bed was on par with asking about whether or not your date wanted kids. But things had been going well with Melody. Really well, if Carlton was going to be completely honest with himself; he could feel himself falling for the woman more every day. He wanted to make whatever was between them official, and he thought that maybe she wanted that too.
But if he was going to seriously consider being in a committed relationship again, then he had to be completely honest with her. And that meant telling her about his marriage and subsequent divorce.
Carlton took one last hard look at his reflection in the mirror. He wore dark jeans, which almost never happened, and a light blue button-down shirt that, for once, wasn't tucked in. O'Hara was always telling him to wear more blue, that it brought out his eyes. He smiled; Melody always commented when he wore blue, and that was encouragement enough.
The doorbell rang and jolted him back into the moment. "Coming!" he called out, reminding himself to relax even while he triple-checked that his living room and kitchen were spotless on his way to the door.
Melody stood on the porch, waiting with a bottle of wine cradled in one arm. She broke out into a dazzling smile as soon as Carlton opened the door, and it made him catch his breath. "Hey," she greeted and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Hey," he echoed. "Come in, please! Make yourself at home," he instructed as he ushered her inside. "You can put the wine on the kitchen counter," he called over his shoulder as he closed the door behind her.
"Would you like a glass?" she asked from the other room. "It's a little different, huckleberry Riesling. It's one of my mom's favorites, she sent it to me for Christmas."
"Sure, let me help you." Carlton came into the kitchen and brought out two wine glasses from a cabinet. "Were you saving it for a special occasion? I'm flattered," he teased as he handed her the corkscrew.
Melody smiled wryly. "I was, but I suppose tonight will have to do." She felt a rush of pleasure as Carlton let out a startled laugh. "So what are you cooking?" she asked as she unwrapped the mouth of the bottle. "It smells delicious."
"Chicken cacciatore and spinach salad." He cast a glance at the saucepan on the stove, making sure that it wasn't boiling over.
"The Irishman cooks Italian!" The woman held out a glass of wine.
Carlton shrugged, taking the proffered glass. "I'm all for diversity." This time it was his turn to startle a laugh out of his date, and he smiled into his wine as he took a sip. Eyeing the rose liquid with surprise, he remarked, "It's good!"
Melody leaned back against the counter, smiling fondly at the detective. "My mother is kind of a connoisseur. She even makes her own. Mostly grape, though."
"Tell your mother that she has good taste." There was a short, comfortable silence. "Want to help me make the salad?"
"Sure. What shall I do?"
Carlton opened the refrigerator and handed Melody a bag of spinach. "Want to be on rinsing duty?" He grabbed two green onions, a few tomatoes, and a bottle of salad dressing and set them on the counter next to a large bowl.
Melody brought the newly rinsed spinach over and dumped it into the bowl. Her eyes fell on the remaining ingredients. "Don't trust me to chop the vegetables, Detective?"
Carlton smirked as he reached for a knife. "Can't be too careful. Chief didn't let me run a full background check on you when she hired you." The girl stuck her tongue out at him and reached for her wine glass, content to watch the man work.
The chicken was ready just as they finished preparing the salad, and the pair moved to the living room to eat their meal. The conversation flowed easily and kept mostly on the subjects of recent cases and past dates. As the minutes passed, however, Carlton could feel himself growing more and more tense. Soon he would have to broach the topic that weighed on him, and he wasn't too confident about Melody's reaction.
"Here, let me get that for you," he offered, noticing that both their plates were empty. He carried them into the kitchen and set them down in the sink, allowing himself a moment to rally his nerves before returning to the living room.
Melody sat on the couch, pivoted to face the kitchen. She studied Carlton's face as he entered the room. "What's wrong?" she asked gently, afraid that she had done something to mess things up. She had noticed his growing agitation as the evening had moved along, and she was afraid that this was going to be it.
Carlton took a seat next to her on the couch and held her hands in his. "I have something to ask you," he confessed, "but first there's something that I need to tell you." Melody nodded, eyes intently focused on his face. He took a deep breath. "I really like you, Melody, and I need to let you know... that is, I'm not sure if O'Hara has told you already, but..." Be a man. Let it out. "I'm divorced."
"Oh!" Melody blinked and leaned backwards. Well. That wasn't what she had been expecting. "No, Juliet hadn't told me."
Carlton reached up and grabbed the back of his neck. "It's been official now for almost two years, but we were separated for about four years before that." He looked up into Melody's eyes, heartened by the fact that they only looked sad, not disgusted or embarrassed. "She left me because she felt that I was spending too much time at my job, that I was never her husband because I was too busy being a detective. I wanted to work it out, but she couldn't handle it anymore."
"Carlton, I'm so sorry," Melody said quietly, squeezing his hand. Inside, she felt like crying. He was probably going to say that he wasn't ready for anything, that he still loved his wife and thought that it would be best if they just stay friends.
He shook his head, smiling slightly at the feeling of her hand on his. "No, don't be sorry. Victoria's happier now, and, really, she had a point." He focused his eyes on the wall behind Melody, gathering his words. "Being in a relationship with a cop is hard. We have to be completely devoted to our jobs; a good cop doesn't really have a personal life. Not everyone is cut out to be involved with someone like me. It takes a lot of effort from both sides for anything to work out."
Melody stared down at her lap, trying to process everything she just heard. "What are you saying, Carlton?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
"I'm saying..." The man stood up and paced in front of the couch for a few seconds before stopping in front of Melody, locking eyes with her. "I'm saying that I never thought I would get over my ex-wife, and suddenly I don't even think about her anymore because I can't stop thinking of you." He crouched down, taking her hands in his. "I think that what we have has a really good chance of becoming more than just a few dates. And even though it would be hard work, I want you to know that I'm willing to try. I've never met anyone like you."
Melody shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't believe how honest and open he was being with her. It was completely uncharacteristic of everything that everyone (well, ok, Juliet, Shawn, and Gus) had ever told her about Carlton. Even though she'd already been privy to glimpses of his romantic side, the full extent of it blew her away. Her first instinct was to pull the man to her and kiss him until neither of them could breathe, but a little voice in the back of her head warned her to take it slow. "Carlton, I've never met anyone like you, either." She took a deep breath. "But I have something to say, too." She couldn't make herself meet his eyes; Melody was afraid that she might give in without saying her piece. "I've never actually been in a real relationship. Like, one that went much further than three dates." She laughed quietly. "This is a landmark for me." Finally, her emotions were under control; she looked up and met his eyes. "You're the first for me, in a lot of ways. I've never felt this strongly for someone before, and I've never been able to stay realistic about my expectations of someone for this long." Her gaze fell back down to her hands, which were playing with the hem of her sweater. "Honestly, I don't know if I'm the type of person who can handle being in a relationship with a cop." Deep breath. "But I think I care so much about you that I'm willing to try anyway."
Since their first date, they had been careful to limit their kisses to pecks on the lips or short kisses on the cheek. Frankly, Carlton was sick of it. Hungrily, he pressed his lips to Melody's, gathering her in his arms and slowly rising from his crouched position on the floor until they were both standing and clinging tightly to each other. Melody felt herself begin to lose control as she weaved her fingers through his hair; she forced herself to pull away. "Slowly," she gasped, even as she gave in to the magnetic pull and began to place a line of kisses along his jaw.
"You're right," he whispered into her ear, his hands traveling slowly down her sides. "We should stop now." He gently took hold of her waist and pulled away just as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed lightly. They both laughed breathlessly, drinking in the sight of each other.
Melody stroked the material of his shirt idly. "So now what?"
Carlton rested his forehead on the top of her head. "We could watch a movie," he suggested, trying to ignore the warmth and pressure of her hands on his chest.
"Ok, but you choose. I picked our last movie."
His choice was an old Clint Eastwood Western, a personal favorite; it was one that he'd seen a hundred times before, so he didn't mind that he was otherwise occupied through most of the film. The few times that Melody directed her attention to the TV she tried to catch up to the action by asking questions. "So is he the good guy or the bad guy?"
Carlton stared down at the woman in his arms in disbelief. "He's Clint Eastwood! He's the good guy!"
Melody frowned. "Then why is he so angry all the time? And why does he keep shooting random men?"
The detective could not believe his ears. "They're outlaws, not random men," he clarified with indignation, "and he's 'angry all the time' because he's upholding justice and they're scum."
The girl smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. This is my first Western, I'm a little unclear on the form."
He pulled her close and planted a teasing kiss on her lips. "I guess you'll just have to come over more often."
Melody sighed mockingly. "Darn the luck." She settled her head against his shoulder and set her eyes back on the movie. Carlton kissed the top of her head and focused on the screen, losing himself in the familiar action.
At the end of the movie, the screen went black and Carlton discovered that his date had fallen asleep. He sat up slowly and shook her carefully. "Hey, movie's over," he murmured.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry," she said through a yawn. "What time is it?"
Carlton glanced at his watch. "Almost eleven. What time do you have to be at work in the morning?"
Melody stretched and yawned again. "Chief wants me there at six thirty." Mentally she cursed the city's transit system; she had to wake up at four if she wanted to make it to the police station by bus any time before seven.
"Come on, let's get you home." Carlton gently hauled the woman up off of the couch. "Do you have everything?"
She nodded sleepily. "House keys and phone are in my pocket. Didn't bring a purse." She intertwined her fingers with his as they made their way to the door and down the block to her house.
Carlton made sure that Melody was deposited safely behind her front door before turning around and slowly walking back to his house. Not usually a fan of stargazing, he cast his eyes up to the sky and inspected the heavens. He felt like a teenager at the start of his first real romance. He didn't like being vulnerable; most days his life depended upon his ability to close himself off from everyone else. But it was a little refreshing to be back in a place where nothing was certain and where he was completely at the mercy of someone else. For a moment, completely alone, Carlton Lassiter allowed himself to be helpless, and enjoyed every second of it.
