Page 11

Charlotte sat in her car, idling just up Sutton’s street, on Thanksgiving.

Sutton had told her to arrive “any time after noon” and that they’d be eating by two. So, naturally, Charlotte had arrived at twelve fifteen and had sat outside for the last fifty minutes.

She wasn’t crazy; she’d brought work to do to keep her occupied while she’d waited.

It had been easy to accept the invitation. Very easy.

Because Sutton had invited her. Truthfully, when everything boiled down, that was it. Sutton had given her an invitation, and Charlotte was not going to turn her down.

Of course, if she cared to, there were other factors she could add in. Like how she craved more time with Sutton in any form, especially when they weren’t in the office. This was insanity for Charlotte, of course, given that Sutton’s book should have been a huge focal point for her in terms of her career.

But the truth that Charlotte could admit to herself was that if Sutton told her tomorrow, “I’d like to spend just as much time with you but never have to review notes for the biography,” Charlotte would nix the biography in a second. Just to spend more time with her .

Not just her; Lucy, too. She’d actually kind of… enjoyed? Was that the right word? Yes, she’d enjoyed spending more time with Lucy in the last few weeks. Odd, given that she was a child and Charlotte didn’t have a longstanding track record with those.

It was Thanksgiving; not that it meant anything to Charlotte on a holiday kind of level, historically, but knowing that everyone else she knew would be in good company with good food while she’d planned on working and having Autumn order her in dinner, preemptively, much as she had last year? Well, this was a far better arrangement, objectively speaking.

Then there was also this…

Sutton had invited her during a moment . Charlotte might have reached forty without knowing much about true romance, but she knew a moment when it landed in her lap.

Or, more aptly, when it involved Sutton Spencer, fresh raindrops trailing over her face and giving her an unreal glow as she’d breathlessly laughed and Charlotte had leaned in toward her.

Charlotte had wanted her so acutely in that moment that she would have likely agreed to anything Sutton suggested.

And, in those ways, this agreement to join for Thanksgiving was just fine. She would get time with Sutton and Lucy and a meal homemade by Sutton, which guaranteed it would be delicious.

And then there were the other ways in which it was just fine…

She bit her lip and looked down at her phone as it started vibrating on the middle console, flicking her eyes to the front door of Sutton’s home before she reached down and swiped to answer.

“ Bonasera , Caleb,” she greeted him.

“And buongiorno back to you, my dear sister! Happy Thanksgiving.” Her brother’s exuberant voice rang through her car’s Bluetooth.

That irritating feeling of nerves swam through Charlotte’s stomach. “Yes, Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. Shouldn’t you and Dean be up to sipping your fifth glass of wine of the day and ordering a homemade pasta?”

“Fifth glass of wine! What do you take me for? It’s the fourth, and since we aren’t grandparents, we aren’t out for dinner yet; we’re in Europe, and it’s not even seven.”

She hummed, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

“We’re at the hotel to get ready for a night out, but I wanted to do my brotherly duty and remind you to not work on a holiday. You better not be at your office.” She could hear the wagging of his finger in his tone.

Charlotte’s gaze slid to Sutton’s front door again, and she felt great about not lying as she confirmed for him, “I am, indeed, not at my office.”

She would say nothing about the laptop and files she had sitting on the passenger seat.

There was a beat of quiet before he spoke again, sounding marginally more suspicious. “Where exactly are you? It sounds like I’m on speaker? Bluetooth?”

“I am… in the car,” she hedged, running her finger over the steering wheel.

“And are you being held at gunpoint? I’d like to be able to explain this tone …” He trailed off expectantly.

Fine. Charlotte was woman enough to face her own brother. Even though he couldn’t see her, she straightened her shoulders and set her jaw as she admitted, “I am having Thanksgiving with Sutton. If you must know.”

“Ah… and if I know Sutton?—”

“Which, for the record, you do not. Not well,” she remarked honestly. It wasn’t as though they’d spent much time together back in the day. It was her own doing, but still.

Caleb was undeterred. “Yes, but in meeting her a handful of times and hearing you talk about her, I know her better than I know Claire,” he said, laughingly referencing William’s wife.

She scowled.

“Anyway, the point is, Sutton is likely having the holiday with her family ,” he announced precisely and in an annoyingly excited voice.

“Congratulations, Caleb, that was very, very difficult to deduce that someone would be with their family on a national holiday such as this.”

“Charlotte,” he said calmly after managing his laughter. “What are you doing sitting in your car? You’ve gone toe to toe with some of the shadiest, nastiest politicians in the game! You took on heads in the oil industry! Must I go on, listing the many comforting reasons you have to not be anxious to enter that house, or was that all right?”

Charlotte personally did not see the humor her brother found in all this.

And she did not mind saying so; she was working on being open .

Admittedly, it was much harder to hold such statements in when she had these nerves darting through her, settling angrily and unfamiliarly in her stomach.

“I suppose I don’t find it all at amusing as you do. If you recall, Katherine Spencer was not much of a fan of mine when we met.”

Which was putting it mildly, in her mind. They’d really only interacted the one time, at the Spencer family New Year’s Eve party, and it had not been a pleasant experience for Charlotte; she could still remember the way Katherine had looked at her, as if she’d been able to just sense that Charlotte wasn’t going to be good enough for Sutton.

And, in the end, she’d proven her right.

Here she was, a decade later, going to face the woman again, this time after breaking Sutton’s heart?

On top of that, Regan and Alex were in there, too.

This Thanksgiving was a road map through all of the people in Sutton’s life who had known the truth about their relationship and had all, in some way or other, expressed distrust for Charlotte. Who had warned Sutton away from her even before she’d broken both of their hearts.

She bit at the inside of her cheek as she admitted in an irritatingly small voice, “Facing down any political foe seems a lot simpler than this.”

Professionally, Charlotte was certain of herself.

When it came to matters of the heart… this was all new.

And these were people whom Sutton adored, loved in her selfless, wholehearted way. People who had been there for Sutton when Charlotte wasn’t.

Charlotte was happy to be in Sutton’s life again, and to say that she was unconcerned about what these people might think, about what they might say to Sutton about her now , might be the lie of the century.

“I’ve spent years building up a reputation so that when I walk into the room, professionally, those who stand against me know they will be in for an arduous uphill battle, and I…” She blew out a deep breath from the very pits of uncertainty inside of her. “Right now, I feel like I’m on the very base of the steepest hill.”

Caleb was quiet for a few beats before he cleared his throat and spoke, loudly and assuredly, making her startle at the tone. “Charlotte Elizabeth Thompson, you are a force to be reckoned with, do you hear me? You aren’t about to be intimidated by people at a Thanksgiving dinner! You are intimidated by no one! You were brought up by the most intimidating person either of us will ever know! Get in there.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted in consideration. “Decent job.” She’d admit; her brother’s pep talk did give her the extra motivation to get her ass in gear.

“I’m your brother. It’s my job to know how to get through to you. Now, go. I’ll talk to you later!” And he was gone.

Charlotte took in a deep breath; she was Charlotte Elizabeth Thompson. She could stand the heat she might get. She certainly wasn’t a withering wallflower.

A knock on her window made her jump, accidentally slamming her hands against her steering wheel as her heart pounded.

She turned to see none other than Katherine Spencer standing at her door.

There was truly no time like the present, was there?

Charlotte steeled herself, cut the engine, and quickly packed her work haul into her bag, the disorganized motion making her grimace inwardly. She didn’t want to prolong this encounter now that it had begun.

“I came out to grab some things from the car,” Katherine started speaking as Charlotte opened her door, a bag, indeed, in her own arms, “and saw you sitting in yours. For the last half an hour or so?”

She arched an eyebrow at Charlotte, and so Charlotte knew, that was how it would be from the start. She appreciated the certainty, in a way.

“Yes, well, I had some work to finish up.” She gestured at her own bag. She took in a breath and smiled at the older woman. With streaks of silver running through her hair and subtle laugh lines next to her eyes and mouth, Katherine Spencer appeared as attractive and dignified as ever, like she’d seen the future coming and had shaken its hand, inviting it over as a friend. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Spencer.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows at Charlotte as they started walking to the house, returning her smile with one that wasn’t what Charlotte would say was cold but that certainly wouldn’t call friendly either. “And you, Senator Thompson.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you’d call me Charlotte.” She gestured around them. “We aren’t here on business, after all.”

Katherine eyed her bag. “Some of us aren’t.”

Oof. Had that make her come off as a workaholic? Which, she was , fine, but she thought that she’d been balancing her friendship with Sutton very well. She’d taken more time to just be and exist in the moment with Sutton in the last weeks than she’d ever done for herself in years.

“Of course I’m referring to the book my daughter is writing about you,” Katherine expanded on her theme.

Charlotte did not overlook that Katherine hadn’t said that she could refer to her as anything other than Mrs. Spencer. Duly noted, but not surprising.

“Right,” Charlotte confirmed, treading very lightly.

If she approached Katherine in the way she would approach anyone in the political world, she wouldn’t necessarily want to give much away until she knew exactly what her stance was. She knew Mrs. Spencer’s stance on her wasn’t “good,” but she also didn’t know exactly what all Katherine knew about her and Sutton.

Sutton, for her partial openness in talking about her parents, had been relatively reticent on how they were doing currently. She mentioned them in passing often enough that Charlotte was aware she still had a good relationship with them, but she’d never, for example, brought up what Katherine knew about the book.

It was difficult to win someone over when you didn’t have an end goal. It was difficult to form a workable goal when you didn’t know exactly what someone else’s goal was. And unlike in a political arena, Charlotte couldn’t research and prepare on the subject of Katherine Spencer.

They approached the front door, coming up the walkway that Charlotte and Sutton had run up less than a week ago, Sutton’s hand in hers, her laughter in her ears over the din of the rain, and Charlotte’s heart stuttered in her chest.

It gave her another reason to subtly roll her shoulders back.

“I didn’t see your driver?” Katherine observed as they climbed the steps.

Charlotte gave her the most charming smile she had, though she wasn’t sure it would win her any particular favors here. “Well, it is Thanksgiving; I don’t generally have my staff working on holidays. As you said, most people don’t.”

Katherine inclined her head, in some sort of relatively positive form of recognition. At least, that’s what Charlotte thought it was as she opened the door.

“Charlotte!” Lucy squealing her name cut through their tension immediately before Charlotte fully crossed the threshold into the house.

She’d never been so grateful to hear a shout in her life. She found herself truly smiling as she turned to face the pounding of little footsteps running down the hall.

Lucy’s hair was done in two pigtail braids, now mussed from what Charlotte was sure was a day of excitement with her family here, and she wore a white shirt under her dark purple overalls. She slid to a stop in front of Charlotte and her grandmother, having run in socks down the hardwood floor, and smiled up at them, proudly revealing her missing teeth.

She was so ridiculously cute, Charlotte thought, and that alone was so strange, for her. But it was true, and she felt it, this sweet adoration for the little human in front of her. So, so strange.

Since the night she’d babysat, she would say Lucy’s feelings for her felt akin to a baby duck that had imprinted on a capybara; she seemed to love Charlotte.

She’d stopped by and had lunch with Sutton and Lucy, during which time Lucy had gravitated right next to Charlotte’s chair, so close she’d almost been climbing in her lap. Even when Sutton had lightly chastised her daughter about personal space, Charlotte had genuinely not minded.

She’d felt endeared. Especially when Lucy had looked up at her with big, blue eyes and said, “’msorry,” slurred with her missing teeth.

Lucy had showed her the skills she’d picked up at karate class and had asked Sutton to FaceTime her to show Charlotte her missing teeth last week. Granted, Charlotte hadn’t known much of what to say to her, but on the other hand, she hadn’t been irritated at the call that disrupted her day either.

It wasn’t anything she was used to, she could admit that.

And she honestly didn’t know if this affection she felt for Lucy had begun purely from the knowledge that this little human was Sutton’s little human. That the bright, happy blue eyes and adorable, sweet smile that clearly were inherited from her mother had nothing to do with how Charlotte instinctively cared for her.

But she knew that it was a different kind of feeling than she’d ever felt before, what she was starting to feel whenever Lucy was happy to see her and wanted to talk to her. It was something she’d never felt, in a very soft way that she was still deciding how to grapple with.

“Lucy!” She bent down to examine the missing teeth with the same intensity she used to look over legal documents. “Would you look at that. I certainly hope the tooth fairy came to visit.”

Lucy nodded vigorously, very seriously informing her, “Oh, she did,” before throwing her arms around her waist.

Charlotte, at first, had not quite known how to take this greeting, but she now reached down and softly patted at Lucy’s shoulders.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Lucy exclaimed as she pulled back. “This is my grandma!” She pointed at Katherine. “Grandma, this is Charlotte; she’s Mama’s friend.”

The unimpressed, almost harsh expression Katherine had worn with her outside simply melted away. There was sheer warmth in her blue eyes—the same shade as Sutton’s and Lucy’s—and a tone of voice so warm and so at odds with how she’d been in their conversation that it nearly gave Charlotte whiplash. “You did such a good job introducing us, honey. Guess what I got from the car?”

Katherine held the bag out, clearly capturing Lucy’s rapt attention as excitement lit up her tiny features. “What?!”

“It may be an early Christmas gift…” Katherine wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

It was interesting, Charlotte thought, to watch a grandmother and granddaughter interact. It had been the most important familial bond she’d had growing up; she didn’t think her own relationship had had the same tone as this one, though.

Then again, her grandmother had been one of a kind, very different, foundationally, from Katherine Spencer in many ways.

“Can I see, Grandma? Please, can I see?” Lucy’s voice jumped an octave as she bounced on her toes.

“I’ve already asked your mom.” Katherine winked. “Let’s open it in the living room.”

Lucy cheered and gestured at them both to follow her down the hall and into the fray. It was in the look she exchanged with Katherine, and the gut instinct that settled heavily in her stomach, that told Charlotte that, adorable six-year-olds aside, their conversation was not done for the day.

The scents of the meal Sutton was preparing wafted through the house, immediately setting the tone into something warm and pleasant. It didn’t entirely settle the knots in Charlotte’s stomach, but its comforting holiday familiarity was something.

She paused in the doorway to the large living area, Katherine and Lucy walking ahead of her, just to get her bearings.

Regan, Emma, and Alex looked to be having an animated conversation—at least, Regan and Alex seemed animated while Emma looked amused—and in a way, the familiarity of that scene struck a chord of ease inside of her. Lucy had run over to Jack and now held court with both of her grandparents. Sutton’s youngest brother—Ethan, this one Charlotte knew, despite having only met once in passing at the New Year’s Eve party—sat on the couch, commenting on the parade to Alex’s boyfriend, whose name she didn’t remember, but they’d never formally met, so she gave herself a pass.

In a way, the fact that they all behaved as Charlotte might have anticipated in this scene gave her a blanket of security. Even if she was the odd woman out, she could read these people, read a room.

Rather than forge deeper into the lion’s den, however, she turned and slipped into the kitchen. To come face to face with Sutton bent at the waist, peering into the oven. It was a view she certainly appreciated.

“Regan, I swear, you better not be coming back to take out any more appetizers. No one will be able to eat when the turkey is done.” Her exasperated tone was obvious, and it made Charlotte’s shoulders loosen. The smile on her face was now entirely natural.

“Ah, okay, I will refrain from taking a tray out for a rotation in the living room then.”

Sutton froze before straightening up comically fast and whipping around.

Her cheeks were pink—likely from the heat in the kitchen, but Charlotte thought there was a little blush there, too—her hair pulled back into a half ponytail, and she had an apron folded around her waist that accentuated her hips in the most delightful way.

Charlotte would be the first to admit that she was not one to have any fantasies about women staying at home, so this specific image being so appealing to her in this moment was—odd.

But she was fairly certain that Sutton in any way appealed to her.

She shook herself out of it; she had been doing her very best in the last several weeks to not delve overly much into her attraction to Sutton or the feelings that swirled low in the pit of her stomach whenever they spoke.

It didn’t mean she didn’t feel them because fuck , did she ever. But Sutton wanted friendship, and Charlotte was doing her best to abide by it.

It was sometimes difficult, though.

“Charlotte,” Sutton breathed out her name, surprised but also warm, before that smile melted over her features. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“You did say any time after noon.” She playfully tilted her head to the clock, that, indeed, reported the time to be one.

Sutton rolled her eyes as she wiped her hands over the apron. “I did .”

“And I am a relatively punctual person,” she added. “No?”

Sutton pursed her lips to unsuccessfully stifle a smile. “Fine, you win.”

A thoughtful look crossed her face for a moment, before she walked, hesitantly at first, across the room, toward Charlotte.

“I’m glad you came,” Sutton murmured as she came to a stop right in front of Charlotte, worrying at her bottom lip for a moment before she swiftly leaned down and pressed a kiss on her cheek and wrapped her arms around Charlotte’s waist.

It was casual. It was absolutely the same thing Sutton had done to every other person who’d arrived at her home today, more than likely, and Charlotte knew that. Logically.

Illogically, she had to take a moment to revel in it. In the feeling of Sutton’s body against hers, the way she could breathe in her perfume over the smells of the food cooking when she was this close, the lingering feeling of her lips brushing against her cheek.

They’d gotten better at casual touches. It wasn’t awkward or stilted between them.

But it didn’t mean Charlotte didn’t take absolute pleasure in them.

She squeezed once around Sutton’s waist, a conscientiously casual embrace, before they both drew back.

“I’m glad I did, too,” she finally returned, and honestly, she was. Even with her rather questionable welcome.

Because, honestly, if it meant this —this hug, this look of happiness to see her all over Sutton’s face, this extra time with Sutton when she may have otherwise not seen her for days—it was worth it.

“I brought you something,” she murmured, not necessarily wanting to break this easy, quiet moment. She reached into her bag, deliberately chosen for the size, and proudly pulled out the container she’d ordered had personally picked up yesterday afternoon.

Sutton’s smile was immediate and wide and so genuine it made Charlotte nearly puff out her chest with pride. “Lemon cakes! Where did you get them? I don’t recognize the bakery?”

“Ah…” Charlotte cleared her throat. “I just happened to be at Un Petit Plaisir and noticed they were on the menu and was lucky enough to get this to take with me last night.”

Sutton’s eyebrows raised, clearly questioning even with her excitement. “You got these from that crazy fancy French place that opened less than six months ago, run by a Michelin-starred chef?” Her gaze, amusement very clear within it, slid to Charlotte’s. “That you just so happened to be at last night?”

Charlotte refused to be embarrassed at this, of all things. “I just so happened to notice they were on the menu; I didn’t say I noticed last night.” She’d noticed when she’d had a business dinner there two months ago and had made a mental note to buy them for Sutton, at some point in time.

This seemed like a perfect point in time.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sutton said, her own voice falling softly as she looked down at the dessert box.

“You are aware that I was raised to have impeccable manners? I couldn’t show up to a holiday meal empty-handed, darling. My ancestors would be rolling in their graves.”

Sutton’s laughter rang out, loud and entirely perfect. “Ah, right. Whenever I think of you, my first thought is of manners.”

“What else could it possibly be?” She couldn’t help but look up at Sutton from under her lashes. Even when she knew she was flirting with Sutton, she couldn’t always help it.

If Charlotte was honest with herself, she would desperately like to know what it was that Sutton thought about her.

Sutton’s smile slightly faded as she stared at Charlotte for a long moment, their gazes locked. “I?—”

She didn’t get to hear what she was very much wanting to know as the answer as Sutton’s sister walked in, announcing her presence loud and clear. “Sutton, I know you said we can’t have more apps, but Ethan and I are starving .”

The moment was broken, and Sutton turned to look at her sister. The softness dissipated as exasperation took its place. “Alex, there is no way you are starving; less than an hour ago, I put out the chips and dip and the scallops, and everything was eaten. Mostly by you two!”

Alex tossed her hands in the air. “Regan and Dad really helped put it away, too.” Her gaze caught on Charlotte then, and she could see the moment recognition set in. “You got any peanut butter?”

The words were said as a joke but with a sharp edge that she could recognize.

“Hello, Alex. Very nice to see you again.” Charlotte gamely smiled at her.

Alex arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, you, too. You know, back in the day, I was still in amateur status as a fighter.” She crossed her arms, which did have a very admirable muscle tone, even though her long-sleeved shirt. “I’m now a world champion.”

“ That is the most random, ridiculous statement you could ever possibly greet someone with.” Sutton crossed the kitchen and nudged her sister—who, though much more muscular, stood several inches shorter than she did—out of the way. “And if you don’t have anything else to do in here except use minimal manners, you can go back out to report to the masses that the turkey will be done in twenty minutes.”

Alex nailed her with a look , even as she exaggeratedly sighed at Sutton—Charlotte supposed it was a universal relationship of sisters, regardless of age—and left the room.

She understood Alex’s message loud and clear. Her career heights were both impressive and threatening.

Especially as Charlotte understood a threat when she heard it.

Sutton gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

Charlotte waved her off. “I’ve dealt with much stranger people than your sister,” she assured her, which made Sutton laugh.

Winning, yet again.

“I’m sure you have,” Sutton agreed before she startled at the sound of a timer going off on her phone. She spun, reaching out and turning the sound off. “Do you want to help me get everything set up?”

If Charlotte was honest, she’d never had such a good time in the kitchen. She very rarely ever spent any time in one, granted, but when she did, it was never fun. It never involved Sutton directing her around—which she’d uncharacteristically always enjoyed—or Sutton standing closely behind her and directing Charlotte on how she wanted certain things arranged.

Charlotte wished the rest of the day could have been that simple.

It wasn’t.

Dinner went well, for the most part.

She was seated next to Sutton on one side, Jack on the other. This worked very well in her favor as she got to discuss what she was best at discussing: work.

Work talk was brought to an end toward dessert, when Alex cut in and reminded Jack that, per Katherine’s rules, politics talk wasn’t supposed to be holiday meal discussion, which Katherine seconded.

Which was also fine.

Made even finer when Sutton nudged at Charlotte’s ankle under the table and gave her an encouraging smile.

“So, how is the book going?” Katherine asked as Jack volunteered to assist Sutton in bringing out dessert.

“I thought we weren’t discussing work?” Ethan teased his mom from across the table. Charlotte had never had a younger sibling, but she appreciated Sutton’s in this moment.

“I said politics , you little…” Katherine trailed off, pointing her fork at her son in a playful threat.

It was crazy, really, to see the difference in Katherine’s tone and look in her eye when she was talking to someone she cherished like her children.