A/N: Sorry it's taken me a while to update. This chapter was supposed to be something completely different, but it turned out Brenda had her own ideas about how things were going to go. She was very persistent, so here's where we ended up...Also, I've been having formatting issues with the texting part of the conversation on this website, so sorry about that. Brenda's messages are in bold italics, Sharon's are just italicized.

It was Saturday night and Brenda was sitting at home alone with her thoughts and a bottle of Merlot. The remains of a Happy Family takeout container sat nearby on the coffee table, the fork still resting inside causing the almost-empty container to list slightly when the blonde set her wine glass down too heavily.

She'd been trying to text the Captain—Sharon—off and on for the past hour, but it was harder than she expected. It wasn't that she couldn't text, she just didn't know how to text with Sharon. They didn't text. Not even about work, really. She could probably count the number of times they'd texted on one hand.

Brenda picked up her phone and stared at the cursor on the screen watching it blink back at her before she tossed it back down on the couch in favor of her wine glass. Again. She took a long, slow sip, draining the glass, and let the liquid swirl around in her mouth before swallowing. She placed her empty glass back on the coffee table, letting out a sigh as her hand found her phone for the thousandth time. This was ridiculous!

Her fingers typed out a message and hit Send before she had a chance to lose her nerve again. It wasn't how she'd meant to start the conversation, but then again, maybe it was…

Did you mean it?

Still, she probably could have opened with something a little more conversational, like 'How's it going?' or 'Hope you were able to wrap things up without any new cases coming in,' but oh well. She felt slightly better now that some action had finally been taken. Maybe.

Not waiting for a response, Brenda set her phone down, picked up the empty wine bottle and takeout container, and headed into the kitchen. She set the bottle on the counter and dropped the container into the garbage can that was sitting out in the middle of the room. She'd discovered it was infinitely easier for her to clean up after herself if she didn't have the barrier of the cupboard door standing between her and the garbage can. It was amazing how one little piece of wood could cause such a roadblock, she mused.

She was pulling another bottle of wine out of the rack when she heard a ding from the other room. She set down the wine and walked over to retrieve her phone before returning to the kitchen, squinting at the new message as she went.

Did I mean what, Chief?

What you said in the car

the other day

She typed back as if that clarified everything. Then added

Are we?

…Are we what?

Friends

There it was. The question that had been swirling around in the blonde's head since that car ride. It had come as such a surprise in the moment, and then she'd been pleased, but then…she thought about it more and uncertainty had started to creep in.

There was no immediate response, but then Brenda watched as the three little dots pulsed on her screen and her stomach tied itself in a knot.

Would you like us to be?

She let out an exasperated breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Why do you always answer

questions with questions?

I don't always

Sharon replied, refraining from pointing out that Brenda had just done the very same thing to her.

…Well?

Well what?

Are we friends or not?

I don't know, Chief. Based on your

messages tonight, it seems like that

might be posing some type of problem

for you.

What? No!

Ok…

Ok what?

So it's not a problem for you then?

I never said it was a problem

Stop putting words in my mouth

I just wanted to know if you meant it.

Or if it was just something you said

to stapler.

Stapler

STAPLES

Stupid autocorrect!

I thought perhaps, yes

The last two messages came through at almost the same time, but Brenda didn't seem to notice.

Perhaps? I just told you!

It most certainly WAS autocorrect!

That's not what I was talking about

The blonde didn't see the last message. She was too busy typing, working herself up even more as she did so, trying to avoid the real source of her agitation. But there it was anyway: What if Sharon really hadn't meant it? What if she'd just been saying what she needed to say to save face in front of her sergeant?

You know how these stupid phones—

She'd been getting better at texting thanks to her squad, but it took her longer than she would have liked to peck out her response using the tiny letters. As she typed, Brenda's phone started ringing and an incoming call window popped up on her screen. Her reflexes were slowed somewhat by the wine and as she tried to switch gears, she accidentally declined the call. She hated when the phone rang while she was in the middle of typing! Shoot, shoot, shoot!

She was even more flustered now, fumbling and almost dropping her phone in her hurry to call the other woman back. Brenda didn't want Sharon to think she'd rejected her call on purpose. It took her a minute, but she finally managed to steady her hands and find the button to return the call.

The phone rang several times, Brenda's chest tightening with each ring, and then Sharon picked up. Before the brunette could utter a word, Brenda immediately launched in, her words tumbling out in a rush, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I was trying to type when you called and I accidentally hit the wrong button! I didn't mean to ignore your call."

Sharon chuckled as she imagined the blonde fighting with her phone—it wasn't much of a stretch, she'd witnessed it first-hand on more than one occasion. "It's ok, Chief, it happens sometimes," she said reassuringly. Her even tone was a stark contrast to Brenda's own agitation. "I just thought it might be easier to talk. It seemed like things were getting a little…muddled…" Then she took a slow breath and added, "I thought it might be worth a try," in answer to the woman's question.

She paused, waiting for the blonde to say something in response, but she was met with silence. Sharon pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the other woman hadn't hung up. Not having any way to gauge what was happening on the other end of the phone, she decided to let it go for the moment and changed gears, trying to diffuse the awkward tension. "So…Stapler, huh?" and then she laughed. It started as a chuckle, born out of a combination of nervousness and genuine amusement, but it quickly turned into a full-bodied laugh.

The warm, bright sound filled Brenda and the tightness in her chest loosened. As the laughter subsided, she heard Sharon inhale and then exhale slowly, her outbreath catching a couple of times in the process. Brenda was about to say something when she heard the woman's laughter begin again, the pitch higher this time.

Stapler. It bubbled up and out of Sharon, building and she found she couldn't stop it. Running out of air, she inhaled and it turned into a snort, which just made her laugh harder, the pitch climbing even higher.

Brenda couldn't believe her ears. Sharon—Captain Sharon Raydor—was giggling! A smile spread involuntarily across her face, the sound was infectious.

Sharon inhaled again, clearing her throat as she attempted to regain her composure. She tried to speak, but it came out as more of a squeak than anything else, "I'm sorry, it's just—" and she erupted in laughter once more, tears streaming down her face. And Brenda couldn't help but join in, spurring the other woman on.

It went on for another minute or two, one woman calming, the other starting up again, until finally the laughter subsided. Sharon let out an audible sigh, her hand moving from where she'd been gripping her stomach to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Geez, Sharon, I'm starting to wonder if you've had more wine tonight than I have. Or is this just part of a normal Saturday night for you?" Brenda asked with a smile, her comment reminding her that she'd left a bottle unopened on her counter.

"I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. Thank you, Brenda."

"It wasn't me, it was this stupid phone," she replied, petulance creeping into her tone. "I don't care what Lt. Tao says, it's not helpful. No good has ever come from autocorrect."

"Oh, I don't know," Sharon said through a smile, "I thought 'Sergeant Stapler' was pretty good. I don't know how I'm going to face him on Monday…"

Brenda chuckled in response as she shifted the phone to her shoulder. Both hands now free, she set about opening the new bottle of wine and carrying it back to the coffee table where her empty glass stood waiting.

"And no, I haven't had any wine tonight. Although now that you mention it…" Sharon considered her options. She'd submitted her final OIS report earlier that evening, so it was officially the weekend. It had been a terrible week and wine did sound nice. But she was planning on going to Mass in the morning—it had been too long since her schedule had allowed her to attend—so she didn't want to overdo it. "Maybe I will have a glass…"

"A glass," Brenda snorted, her arm jerking slightly as she poured, a thin trail of Merlot tracing its way down the outside of her glass. She set down the bottle and went back to the kitchen for the roll of paper towels. "Well, I admire your self-restraint. I passed 'a glass' a long time ago. But I'm pouring myself a-nother right now." She paused briefly as she wiped her glass and tossed the stained paper in the garbage. "I take it that means you got your cases wrapped up? Or am I keeping you and Sergeant Stapler from your work?"

Sharon snorted, the sound making Brenda smile. She could tell the other woman was moving around, and then she heard the sound of glass clinking in the background. "Sergeant Staples and I," the older woman responded, carefully enunciating his name, "submitted our final reports earlier this evening, thank you for asking."

Sharon stopped to take a long sip from her rather generous glass of wine—if she was only going to have one, she could at least make it a good one. She swallowed slowly, letting out a low, "Hmmm," enjoying the sensation of the cool liquid leaving a trail of warmth as it slid down her throat. The sound traveled through the phone, the vibrations moving through Brenda's body creating an entirely different sense of warmth. The sharp intake of breath from the blonde's side of the phone at the unexpected sensation went unnoticed as Sharon continued.

"And Chief, if I hear a single member of your team call him Sergeant Stapler, I swear—"

"Oh, no. Nuh-uh," Brenda interrupted, "The wine's out now. You can't start tossing work threats around once the wine is out, Captain Sharon. That's just plain rude. Didn't your momma—"

"Fair enough," Sharon conceded, smiling, the effect of her raised eyebrow lost on the phone. "And yes, I'm having a glass. One will do just fine, it's a rather generous pour."

"Red or white?" Brenda asked before the brunette could say anything else.

"White." Brenda made a face. "Red sometimes gives me a headache and I didn't want to chance it with Mass in the morning," Sharon explained.

Brenda's eyes widened in surprise, grateful for the privacy the phone provided. Mass?! And then her brain recalled their conversation at the coffee shop. Sharon had mentioned she was Catholic and alluded to the complications that caused in terms of a potential divorce. But she hadn't realized Sharon actually went to church.

"I haven't made it to Sunday Mass in over a month," the older woman went on, almost as if she'd heard Brenda's unspoken question, "and I have no intention of showing up hungover." There was a pause and then she added, "...that was more Jack's speed…" the last comment slipping out under her breath, more to herself than to the blonde. It was almost inaudible, but Brenda caught it.

They were both quiet for what felt like an hour, but was probably less than a minute, Sharon's comment hanging in the air. Brenda took a sip of her wine and then tentatively broke the silence. Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, but it still felt loud to her ears, "...So, um…how are things going with that?"

The sound snapped Sharon back to their conversation, "With Mass?" she asked, confused.

"With, um…with Jack," Brenda clarified, feeling like maybe it had been a mistake to ask as soon as the words left her mouth.

There was no response, but the heavy sigh from the other end of the phone let Brenda know the other woman at least hadn't hung up on her.

"Brenda…" she finally said, her tone a mix of weariness and warning.

"Yes?"

"No."

"No?" Brenda knew then that she'd crossed a line, but she was starting to get confused now too.

"I'm not—" Sharon started over, "I'm realizing now that we never finished our conversation from earlier."

"What?" Brenda asked, "Sharon, I'm having a little trouble following here."

"The one about whether or not we're friends," she clarified.

"Oh…" was all Brenda could manage in response. That conversation.

"I think I mentioned to you before at the coffee shop that it's important for me to keep my personal and professional lives separate. It's what allows me to do my job effectively." Sharon stated.

Brenda nodded in agreement, forgetting the other woman couldn't actually see her, before saying, "Yes, I remember that. And I haven't said anything about what we talked about—not to anyone," It was the truth, but suddenly she felt nervous, like maybe she'd done something wrong without even knowing it.

"No. I'm just—I don't share many details about my personal life with my colleagues." Sharon paused, taking another sip of wine. "Historically, you and I haven't…done particularly well together professionally." It was Brenda's turn to snort this time, grateful she'd waited before taking a sip of her own wine. "But it seems like things have become more…amicable between us recently,"

"I agree. So…does that mean…? …Are we? Friends then?" Brenda asked, sounding more uncertain than she would have liked.

"I'm not accustomed to having…amicable relationships with colleagues outside my department," Sharon replied. "I'm not entirely sure how to handle it because you're my colleague and a superior officer." She paused, taking another long sip of wine and letting it glide slowly down her throat.

Brenda opened her mouth, ready to point out that the other woman hadn't answered the question, when she finally started speaking again. "I think I would like that, yes." A wave of relief washed over the blonde, her breath rushing out and her shoulders dropping, releasing tension she hadn't realized was there.

"What you did for me the other day, that's the sort of thing that friends do for one another," Sharon said softly, "It was very kind and…unexpected…It's not the sort of thing coworkers do—at least not for me…"

"Sharon—" Brenda tried to cut in, but the other woman didn't let her.

"But earlier tonight you seemed to be having some…difficulty with the idea. You seemed agitated, for lack of a better word. And that made me wonder whether being friends is something you even want, if it's something we can handle given our…differences at work."

There it was, the gut punch Brenda had been worried about. Her stomach clenched and she started to feel a little queasy. She wondered at how their conversations could go from tense to easy and relaxed to so incredibly uncomfortable again. She hated how awkward this was, but she was the one who brought it all up in the first place.

"I do. Want to be friends, I mean. I'm sorry if I was 'agitated' earlier, I just—I'm not very good at it. The whole being friends thing." Brenda sighed, "Besides my team, the only other friends I had were Fritzi's friends, and they were only nice to me because of him. And now, well…"

Sharon hummed in acknowledgement, sipping her wine. "I don't know, Brenda, I'd say you've been doing pretty well so far. Maybe we can work on your conversational skills…" They both chuckled at that.

"I do worry a little about what will happen the next time I have to investigate a member of your team or we have competing interests at a crime scene." Sharon paused.

Brenda had wondered that, too, thinking back to their argument at the coffee shop crime scene, how easily they'd fallen back into that pattern even after things had started shifting between them.

She could tell from the brunette's tone that she wasn't finished yet, so Brenda waited. She'd noticed that Sharon, unlike herself, took her time when she spoke, searching for the right words, especially when the stakes were high or when she was feeling uncomfortable. In the interview room, Brenda was calculated, meticulous with her words, but in her personal relationships, she tended to just blurt things out, which usually ended up doing more harm than good. So she waited, allowing the other woman the space to find her words and say whatever it was she needed to say.

"It would be…upsetting for me to have personal information used against me to gain the upper hand in a professional disagreement," Sharon said quietly, "I've found that type of manipulation to be particularly…damaging—"

Brenda couldn't wait anymore. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. She wanted to be upset with Sharon for even suggesting it, but she wasn't as lacking in self-awareness as people might think. She knew that, particularly where work was concerned, when she wanted something she had a tendency to go straight for the jugular, regardless of the collateral damage. But the way the brunette choked out the word 'damaging' made Brenda's chest tighten. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and she couldn't listen anymore, she had to say something.

"Sharon, I—" she interrupted, then stopped, trying to give her brain a second to catch up. "I can't promise I won't get mad or yell or say something stupid—we both know that would be a big, fat lie," honesty seemed like a good place to start. "But…what if we agreed to have whatever discussions we need to have about our 'professional disagreements' behind a closed door instead of in front of everyone?" she suggested.

"I know I'm not exactly the poster child for restraint," the statement was met with a different kind of choking sound, muffled, but still audible, as the blonde continued, "that seems to be more your department, but I should be able to contain myself long enough to get to my office or a conference room or car or wherever. Plus, slamming a door can be very satisfying," she admitted with a small smile.

She hoped it would be enough, she really did want to be friends with Sharon, and the thought of losing whatever familiarity was developing between them before they'd even had a chance to explore it was something Brenda couldn't think about just yet. So she waited.

The silence was almost painful this time as Sharon considered the younger woman's offer. Finally, she uttered a single word, "Ok," almost casually, as though someone had just offered her a piece of gum. And that was it.

Brenda wished then that she could see the other woman, her face, her hands—not that she was always very good at reading her, but any clues would have been appreciated. That hadn't quite been the response Brenda was expecting, but there was no hiding the mix of surprise and relief in her voice as she repeated, "...Ok?"

"Yes, Brenda. I think that's a good compromise," Sharon said reassuringly.

"Friends, then," the blonde stated, nodding to herself and feeling the knot in her stomach loosen, replaced by something warmer, softer, that she couldn't quite name.

"Friends," Sharon confirmed, the smile audible in her voice, "I'll drink to that." She held up her glass in front of her in a toast and then took another sip of her wine.

"Hear, hear." Brenda said, lifting her own glass in much the same manner. "So, friend," she added after a moment, "how are things going with Jack?" She heard Sharon sigh heavily and almost felt bad for asking again, but this was the sort of thing friends talked about, wasn't it? And Sharon had been the one to bring him up earlier, she reasoned. "He seemed pretty eager to talk with you at that coffee shop crime scene."

There was a pause, and again Brenda wished she could see Sharon to gauge her reaction, but then she spoke, "He was, yes…I haven't talked to him since. But at least I know he got the papers and actually read them."

"So you decided to sign them after all," Brenda said, trying to sound neutral.

"I did. It was time. He was…pretty upset about that. And drunk." Sharon sighed.

"It seemed like he got under your skin a little," Brenda observed, letting the unspoken question float.

"Hmm…" Sharon hummed, pausing to take another sip of wine, "It was almost 1am, so when I finally answered and said it wasn't a good time, he assumed that meant I was…with someone…That's his favorite accusation to throw around. He assumes everyone else is just like him. Even though he knows I'm a police officer and I get called out at all hours, even though I've never, in all the years we've been married, given him reason to make such an accusation…" Her voice got quieter, "I think that's what really gets him, actually, that I never stooped to his level."

Sharon sighed, setting her glass down and rubbing her forehead, "He thinks the reason I'm finally filing is that there's someone new in my life. And he's jealous. Even after all this time. And since I wouldn't discuss it at the crime scene, he thinks he's punishing me by refusing to sign…I told him I'd be happy to discuss it with him when he was sober, but I haven't heard from him since. And I've been too busy lately with work to even think about poking that bear again."

"Well, sounds like he's quite the charmer," Brenda snarked.

"He is, actually, when he wants to be. That's the danger with him. He's funny and charming, the life of the party, everyone's best friend…until he's not. And then you're left, high and dry, to pick up the pieces." Sharon said sadly.

"So, what made you decide to file now?" Brenda asked, taking a sip of wine to keep herself from asking if maybe there was someone new in her life.

"I don't know, I'm tired of it, I guess. Of him showing up whenever he feels like it, whenever he needs something—money usually—trying to talk his way back into my life—and my bed—because 'we're still married' and 'he loves me' and 'it'll be different this time.' I'm tired of feeling responsible for him, for his actions, and I'm done trying to put pieces back together that clearly don't fit. Our kids are grown, and I've established myself at work, unpopular as I may be. I'm old enough now that the professional protection and security being married provided is no longer necessary, and…I guess I was finally ready to ask for what I wanted and deal with the repercussions…"

Brenda remained completely silent, sipping her wine as Sharon spoke. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else, but the amount of personal information Sharon had divulged in the few moments since they'd officially become friends was startling. She wasn't sure what she had expected when she asked, but the level of transparency the older woman had met her with was entirely unexpected and almost dizzying. Sharon was the most guarded and closed-off person she knew, and Brenda felt incredibly honored that the woman was sharing so openly with her, trusting her. It made her stomach flip and a tingling sensation spread through her body. She listened intently, not wanting to squander the precious gift her friend Sharon was offering.

Sharon continued with a chuckle, "Gavin, a friend of mine who also happens to be an attorney, convinced me to go ahead and file for an annulment, rather than a divorce. So I can see why Jack might suspect there's someone new in my life—which there isn't. Separated or not, I'm still a married woman. He knows my faith is important to me and that annulment is the only way I could remarry in the church. At this point, I have no intention of ever remarrying, but, as Gavin pointed out, there's no harm in leaving that door open…" she said with a shrug even though Brenda couldn't see it.

So she wasn't seeing anyone, Brenda noted—not that it mattered to her either way. It just seemed like something a friend should know.

"Do you think he'll actually sign?" the blonde asked, not sure what else to say. She could understand why Sharon hadn't particularly wanted to get into it. Her situation was much more complicated than either of Brenda's marriages had been.

"I don't know…but the deadline to respond is coming up, so I'll have my answer soon enough."

"Well, I'm glad you're asking for what you want, and I hope you get it," Brenda said softly, stifling a yawn. The many glasses of wine she'd consumed were catching up with her and her eyelids were beginning to feel heavy.

"Thank you, Brenda. Me too..."

"Sharon?" Brenda's voice once again broke the silence between them.

"Hmm?" came the brunette's response. Brenda thought she must be getting tired, too.

"I meant what I said the other day. You're going to have to tell me where you got that fancy skirt. I swear I spend more time fighting with zippers than with you and Will combined." That elicited a chuckle from the older woman. "Fritz always used to help me with them, but now…" Brenda trailed off. "Well, I've gotten a lot better with my GPS, so if I'm running late for something, chances are it's because I was wrestling with a stupid zipper! That's not really the sort of thing I can ask the guys for help with…"

Sharon smiled, "I'm sure that can be arranged. You really should have one or two pencil skirts in your wardrobe, they come in quite handy—thank you for returning mine, by the way," she added. "And I'm happy to provide assistance with any zipper-related issues that might be preventing you from arriving at our interdepartmental budget meetings on time. Those are painful enough as it is without having to make small talk while waiting for your arrival…"

"Why thank you, Captain, thank you so much. That's ever so kind of you," Brenda replied in her most saccharine tone, but the giggle that escaped, gave her away.

"I was considering suggesting a shopping excursion tomorrow, if you're free, but now I don't know…" Sharon said, her tone teasing.

"Really?" Brenda asked, "I'll behave, I promise." And then she remembered, "But wait, don't you have church tomorrow?"

"It's Mass, Brenda, it doesn't last all day." Sharon shook her head. "We could go shopping afterward, maybe pick up a coffee on the way. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great!"

"Then it's settled. I'll text you in the morning when I head to church so you've got plenty of warning. I know mornings can be…difficult for you sometimes…"

Brenda wanted to protest, but found nothing untrue in what the older woman had said, so instead she yawned and just said, "Ok."

"Ok then. Goodnight, Brenda," Sharon said with a smile, stifling her own yawn, "and please drink some water before you go to bed. Shopping with a hangover isn't nearly as fun."

"Goodnight, Sharon. I will," Brenda promised, "Talk to you tomorrow."

And with that, they hung up, both drifting off to bed feeling lighter than they had in a while, each looking forward to spending time with their newfound friend.

. . .

The faint sound of a phone ringing in the distance permeated Brenda's sleep, getting louder and louder as she came to consciousness. The pounding in her head seemed to pulse in time with the phone. It was too much. She wanted to pull the covers back over her head and drown out the noise, but she knew the only way to make it stop was to actually pick it up and answer. She rolled over, squinting at the clock as she reached for her phone: 2:45am.

It was Lt. Gabriel letting her know they'd caught a case. Cradling her head in her hand, she half-listened to him while taking stock of her situation. The good news was she was sober. Just a few more hours of sleep and she would have felt fine, but that didn't seem to be an option anymore, so she was left with a headache that would probably drag on for the rest of the day…

She had made herself drink several glasses of water before going to bed just like she'd promised Sharon she would—Sharon! Oh SHOOT! Why did they have to catch a case today of all days?! Based on the preliminary information from Lt. Gabriel, there wouldn't be any shopping excursions happening today…

Brenda hung up the phone and sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair while she waited for his text to come through with the address for the crime scene. She needed to get ready, but she also needed to let Sharon know. She wanted to wait until a more decent hour—she really didn't want to wake the other woman up—but if she didn't text her now, chances were she'd get wrapped up in the case and would forget…Fritz used to get so mad about that. She didn't want to do that to Sharon and mess up their newly-established friendship in the first 24 hours.

She typed out a text, reading it over a couple times to make sure she didn't forget anything. She only wanted to send one message to minimize the chances of disturbing the other woman's sleep.

Just caught a case. Sorry it's so early.

Rain check on the shopping trip?

Hope everyone else behaves so you can still make it to church.

Then she tossed the phone on her bed and set about getting ready. She heard her phone ding and hoped it wasn't Sharon. She finished swallowing some pain pills and checked, relieved to find it was just Gabriel sending her the address. Thank heavens for small miracles, she thought, smiling slightly to herself as she pictured Sharon still sound asleep—at least one of them should be…She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder trying to calculate just how much chocolate and caffeine would be required this morning. It was going to be a long day…

. . .

Brenda and her team made their way into the murder room later that morning and started compiling the information they'd gathered so far on the whiteboard. Brenda headed into her office to drop off her things and grab something from her candy drawer to serve as a makeshift breakfast while they waited for a call about the autopsy. When she opened the door, she let out a quiet gasp of surprise as her eyes landed on a familiar-looking coffee cup. Next to it on her desk sat a chocolate-filled croissant and a note. She quickly crossed to the desk and sat down, grabbing the coffee as she read the note:

Thought this might help.

Brief and to the point, nothing personal for someone else to see, no signature, but nothing more was required. She bit into the buttery, flaky pastry and it practically melted in her mouth, mixing exquisitely with the dark chocolate filling. It was heaven! And the coffee was still somewhat warm. This was exactly what she needed.

She reached into her purse for her phone and found she had a message waiting for her.

I hope you remembered to drink some water

How about Saturday?

She typed out a reply:

I did, but a few more hours of sleep would have been nice…

Thank you for breakfast, it's exactly what I needed

Saturday sounds great!

She hit send, smiling, and dropped her phone back into her purse. As she turned her attention back to her breakfast, she heard a commotion coming from the murder room. Looking up, she saw Lt. Provenza standing at his desk waving around a copy of what looked like the Sunday crossword, gesturing wildly, and yelling, "Who does a crossword puzzle in PEN, for God's sake, that's just WRONG!" Then he threw the puzzle down on his desk and dropped into his chair with a huff, muttering, "Wicked witch," under his breath.

Brenda shook her head and took another bite of her croissant, humming in appreciation, unable to stop the grin that spread across her face, Ooh that woman!