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She wanted Layla to know the value she saw in Sutton. She wanted her to know that she had given up the opportunity to be with the perfect partner and that Sutton had options. Successful, attractive options, who valued her for the person she was.

Layla studied her, face pinched, as she clearly worked through something in her mind. She then pushed out a short, humorless laugh. “It was you .”

Charlotte arched an eyebrow as she adjusted her own stance. “Perhaps it was,” she answered, despite having no fucking clue what she was referring to.

Layla shook her head, biting at her cheek. When she looked at Charlotte again, she was appraising her, like she was seeing her through new eyes. Like she was seeing or thinking something unpleasant. “You were the woman she was with. Before we got together.”

Charlotte’s stomach flipped at the recognition, but she didn’t say anything. In her experience, if you gave people more room to speak when they clearly had something to say, they would say it unprompted.

It worked.

“She would never tell me who it was, just that she’d had an extremely intense relationship with someone that ended poorly. That took her a long time to recover from, and—” She cut herself off, lifted her hand, and rubbed at her temples before blowing out a low breath. “It was with you .”

An extremely intense relationship that had taken a long time to recover from… That sounded fairly accurate, even though Charlotte would have never been able to put it into words. Accurate or not, it didn’t reflect just how much she’d felt. How much they’d had.

“And now, you want to come back, and?—”

“Someone is officially ready.” Sutton’s voice came from down the hall to their right, cutting through the moment, and they both turned to look in her direction. “She’s just going to the bathroom.”

Charlotte turned to see Sutton fussing with Lucy’s backpack as she emerged from the hall, the guitar she’d helped procure tucked safely under her other arm.

“Everything is…” Sutton’s voice fell away as she looked up to see Charlotte and Layla standing in the middle of their face-off. She blinked widely at Charlotte, and then her eyebrows pulled together in confusion even as she smiled. “Charlotte. I didn’t know you were here?”

She tracked her gaze to Layla, who was staring intently at Sutton, before looking back at Charlotte, a flush stealing up her neck and spilling over her cheeks.

Regardless of whatever had been happening moments ago, she felt the rush of warmth that always hit her when she first saw Sutton. “Hi, darling.”

Sutton’s flush got deeper, but her smile grew. “Hi.”

“Charlotte!” Lucy’s shout broke through the moment, her little footsteps running down the hall. Her body slammed into Charlotte’s legs with an intensity Charlotte had finally gotten used to as she felt little but surprisingly strong arms wrap around her thighs in a hug.

That warmth only intensified as she dropped her hand down to softly land on Lucy’s head. “And hello to you, too.”

“Are you spending Christmas Eve with my mama?!” Lucy’s own question seemed to wind her up as she turned to face Layla, then Sutton. Her eyes were like saucers, pleading in their own right. “But I want to stay and play with Charlotte too!”

Layla smiled down at Lucy, though Charlotte could see that the smile was strained. “You and I have to go, hon. We’re already running late.”

Charlotte could see the firm way Lucy set her expression and the storm behind her eyes even before she said anything.

Before she could, though, Layla turned her attention to Sutton. “But I need a minute before we go.” She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the kitchen, very unsubtly.

Sutton sighed before she gestured for Layla to lead the way, then turned to Charlotte. “I’ll be right back.” She looked down at Lucy. “And no making a run for it again. If you do, you won’t be able to give Charlotte the Christmas gift you made for her.”

Lucy acknowledged her with a defeated nod. “Fiiiine.”

As soon as Layla and Sutton left the room, taking the tension with them, Lucy tilted her head back to look up at Charlotte. “It’s not fair .”

Despite wanting desperately to know whatever was happening in the kitchen, Charlotte focused her attention on Lucy. Admittedly, it wasn’t hard, with her pout and the beseeching look in her big, blue eyes. “What isn’t fair?”

Lucy heaved a sigh before she just dropped , sitting on the floor next to her backpack and plopping her face into her hands. “That I have to leave on Christmas Eve. I don’t want to go.”

It was almost comical, but Charlotte could appreciate the dramatics of it all. Plus, the abject sadness in her tone grabbed Charlotte by the collar. She could feel it tugging at her as she kneeled next to Lucy. “Do you not have a good time with your mother on Christmas?”

Lucy shrugged, her little face tilting to look directly at Charlotte. “I guess,” she admitted, shrugging again. “But I always stay with my mama on Christmas Eve. Always! They both say that Santa will still find me at Mom’s and Arianne’s, so that’s fine. But I don’t know why I can’t stay with Mama and then to go to Mom’s the day after, like always.”

Charlotte could very much understand wanting to stay with Sutton, and she could understand Lucy’s reluctance entirely. Sutton was her primary parent. She spent over three-quarters of her life with Sutton, here in this home. She’d spent every Christmas she could remember here. At the root of it all, she agreed with Lucy that there was an injustice to this move in the name of “fairness.”

Still, that wouldn’t change anything for the little girl with the sad eyes on Christmas Eve.

So Charlotte did what she had to do at work in order to get something accomplished: pivot.

“When I was your age”—she tapped lightly, playfully, at Lucy’s thigh, donned in cheery, Christmas-themed leggings—“neither of my parents spent Christmas with me.”

They were words she hadn’t spoken in a long time, something she hadn’t even thought about in a handful of years. But it got Lucy’s attention, got her to stop looking so distraught, as she whipped her head up to look at Charlotte.

“What?! Why? What did they do?” All right, so she looked distraught in an entirely different way. Her mouth fell open in distress. “Are they dead ?”

Charlotte gave her a little smile because Lucy’s heart was truly all Sutton. She flattened her hand to give Lucy a comforting pat on her leg. “No, they aren’t dead. They were just… busy.” There was the potential to sting, but she refused to let herself delve too far into it. This wasn’t about her; it was for Lucy. “They liked to have their time off to spend on themselves,” she explained.

Lucy’s face was scrunched up in disbelief as she stared up at Charlotte.

“So, while I understand you wanting to be with your mama on Christmas morning, I think it’s really cool that both of your moms want to spend the holiday with you and that you are able to celebrate it twice ,” she stressed, giving Lucy an encouraging smile. “And I think you’ll have a lot of fun if you let yourself. Some kids, like me when I was young, would have loved something like this.”

But Lucy didn’t smile back. Instead, she veritably threw herself at Charlotte, who just managed to keep them both from falling over.

She was surprised, but she really shouldn’t have been. Not by Lucy’s care or her hug or the way it made everything inside of Charlotte just settle .

“You didn’t bake cookies for Santa? Or watch Christmas movies with your mom? Or read ‘T’was the Night Before Christmas’?”

Charlotte wrapped her arms loosely around Lucy’s waist to reciprocate the hug. “No. I didn’t.” She’d never done any of those things. “But I think it’s lovely that you’ll get to do them with both of your parents.”

“All right, it’s time—” Sutton cut herself off as she walked into the foyer and locked eyes with Charlotte. She lifted her eyebrows as she took in Charlotte sitting on the floor with Lucy draped over her in a hug, a smile made of clear confusion and endearment sliding over her features. “Is everything all right in here?”

Charlotte gave Lucy a final squeeze before Lucy released her and turned to address her mom. Make that moms , as Layla followed Sutton in, arms crossed and face looking decidedly less endeared by their situation.

“Everything’s fine, Mama.” Lucy pushed herself up to her feet. “Charlotte didn’t celebrate Christmas when she was little, so I’m gonna do it twice, for her.”

Charlotte found herself blushing at the look both Layla and Sutton gave her as she pushed herself back up. Mostly, admittedly, she was embarrassed at Layla having heard it.

Luckily, she didn’t have to find anything else to say just yet as Lucy continued, “Mama, you can do Christmas with Charlotte. It’s okay. That way you won’t be alone, and Charlotte can do all the fun Christmas stuff with you.”

Layla pushed past Sutton with a sigh as she walked to grab Lucy’s jacket, where it was draped over her overnight bag in the corner. “Come on, honey. We have to go.”

Lucy allowed Layla to put the jacket on her, seemingly far less combative or unhappy than she’d seemed just a little while ago. “You gotta do the Christmas stuff with Mama,” she told Charlotte as Layla zipped up her jacket. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile back at her, her heart feeling unduly full from the sheer sweetness. “All right.”

Layla’s expression was far more subdued as she hefted Lucy’s bag and looked at Charlotte. It was astonishing to see the difference between what she’d looked like when she’d first greeted Charlotte and what she looked like now, now that she’d realized Charlotte was involved romantically with Sutton.

“It was nice to meet you, Senator Thompson.”

“Her name is Charlotte,” Lucy insisted, making Charlotte crack a grin.

Still, she evenly held Layla’s gaze. “You as well.”

“I’ll see you on the twenty-seventh?” Layla addressed Sutton.

“That’s when you’re picking me up,” Lucy interjected again, smiling at the prospect. “And then we’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s!”

Sutton’s smile—forcibly polite at Layla—became very real as she looked back at Lucy. “You’re absolutely right. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lucy popped back as she shouldered her backpack.

Within the minute, Lucy and Layla had left, the front door closing sharply behind them, and Sutton and Charlotte were alone. Charlotte turned to face Sutton again, feeling several anxieties now.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, and then Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh. Her laughter only got more intense as Sutton’s light chuckle joined hers.

“What are you sorry for?” she asked after she’d caught her breath.

Sutton fidgeted, her expression tight. “For any comments Layla might have made before I came in the room. I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t even know you were coming. What are you doing here? And what are you sorry for?”

“I know you intended to be alone today, so first, I’m sorry for potentially disrupting that. I can go, if you’d like,” she offered quickly, hating this uncertainty inside of her. “I just have a Christmas gift for you, and I wanted you to have it before rather than after the big day.” She paused before tilting her head in the direction of the door. “I’m also sorry for potentially making that situation any more difficult for you.”

Sutton’s eyes rolled as she shook her head, clearly frustrated. “You didn’t do anything, really.” She rolled her lips, clearly debating expounding on something, before she let out a sigh and refocused. “What did Lucy mean, that you didn’t celebrate Christmas? As far as I’m aware, you weren’t a non-Christmas-celebrator.”

Charlotte let out a slightly embarrassed laugh, sifting her hand through her hair at Sutton’s curious gaze. “I mean, I’m not not a Christmas celebrant. But she mentioned doing things like Christmas movies and Santa cookies, and I told her the truth, that I didn’t do those things.” As Sutton’s imploring eyes that always saw so much of Charlotte looked so intently at her, she felt the discomfort of sharing bubble up.

She changed the subject. “So, yes, I thought I would come here and give you a little gift and a check-in. I mean, I don’t have any other plans this evening; I usually spend Christmas Eve alone, so if you wanted to spend some time together, I’d love that. I just…” She looked back at Sutton as she confessed, “Honestly, I couldn’t stand the idea of you being alone.”

“ You usually spend Christmas Eve alone,” Sutton gently echoed Charlotte’s own words, with the sweetest little smile on her face, one that featured a cross between exasperation and bafflement.

“I’m… me,” she offered simply. She only explained herself when Sutton’s look deepened into offense and confusion. “I just mean I’m used to that. You, on the other hand...” She trailed off, searching for the right way to explain herself. “Darling, you sounded so sad on the phone. I couldn’t not check in with you. Couldn’t not offer you company, right here and in your own space, to do something to make you feel better.”

There. It was the simplest and most honest answer. Charlotte wanted Sutton to be happy, to not feel lonely. And she wanted to be the person who provided Sutton with that happiness.

Sutton took in a deep breath, then blew it out through her nose and closed her eyes.

Which made that uncomfortable, anxious feeling slash through Charlotte’s stomach. It didn’t seem good . “I can go,” she muttered.

Sutton slowly shook her head as she opened her eyes. “Don’t.”

The single word was so soft.

“Don’t go. Please,” Sutton repeated, louder, as she stepped toward Charlotte. “I—I’m glad you’re here.”

The words were exactly what Charlotte had wanted to hear, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Sutton said them as if they weren’t a positive thing.

For Charlotte, they were the most positive thing in the world.

“Thank you for coming. For knowing what I needed,” Sutton whispered as she came even closer. Closer than she’d been all day, close enough for Charlotte to feel her body warmth.

Her gratitude sounded genuine, but it also sounded confusingly exasperated.

Charlotte didn’t—couldn’t—think too much about that, not when Sutton leaned in against her and pressed their lips together.

She sighed into the gentle contact. It was a simple kiss, but Charlotte loved it. It spoke of familiarity and consistency. Just a hello or a goodbye or a thanks .

Sutton smiled at her, arching an eyebrow. “I can’t send you away, anyway. Not after what Lucy said.” She bumped her shoulder against Charlotte’s. “Santa cookies and Christmas movies?” She paused, studying Charlotte. “Only if you wan?—”

“I want to,” she blurted out, and she didn’t care just how rushed she’d said it.

She had nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to hide anymore. Not when it came to wanting to be with Sutton.

Sutton’s smile grew. “Great.” Slowly, she dipped her gaze down Charlotte’s body, making her shiver as she drew her eyes back up to lock onto Charlotte’s. “Not dressed like that, though.”

Confused, Charlotte looked down at herself and wondered if she should be offended. “I think this might be the first time in my adult life anyone has ever criticized my fashion choices?”

Sutton laughed, reaching down and taking Charlotte’s hand in hers. “No! No, not that. You look—I mean…” Her laughter faded, her voice falling into that deliciously husky tone. “You look really good. You always do.” She cleared her throat and brought deep blue eyes back to Charlotte’s as her cheeks flushed. “I just meant, in this house, on Christmas Eve, you have to wear the uniform.”

She gestured at herself, and for the first time, Charlotte actually took in her outfit.

She didn’t know what it was; maybe she’d been too distracted by Layla when Sutton had first walked in.

But Sutton was wearing thermal long john pants, dark blue with white snowflakes on them, and a white Henley on top.

She looked perfectly adorable, if Charlotte was honest, but she dragged her eyes back up to Sutton’s, arching an incredulous eyebrow. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite pack for the occasion.”

She and Sutton both knew she didn’t own anything close to that.

The most devastating smile flashed over Sutton’s face. “You can borrow mine.”

Charlotte would never turn that down. “Lead the way.”

As Sutton reached down and interlaced their fingers, starting to lead them to her bedroom, she said, “You don’t have to apologize for the second thing.”

It took Charlotte a moment to realize what she was referring to. “About Layla? And her… figuring us out?”

Sutton sighed, giving Charlotte a sidelong glance before she nodded. “Yes. It—you coming here was very sweet. And I realize you arrived hours after I told you Layla was picking Lucy up. Which I appreciate.”

She pushed the door to her bedroom open with her hip as she led them inside.

The last time Charlotte had been in here, she’d experienced some of the best sex of her life. This was a different tone entirely.

But Sutton was talking to her about her life, and they were spending Christmas Eve together while Charlotte would be wearing Sutton’s clothing, so different did not necessarily equate to bad in this instance.

“I did do that deliberately,” she confirmed, wanting to know it all. She wanted the whole story, everything that Sutton could fill her in on.

Sutton gave her a quick smile. “I know you did.” She let go of Charlotte’s hand as she moved to open one of her drawers. “Layla was supposed to be here by three at the latest .” She pursed her lips as she started to rifle through the drawer. “And once she was over an hour late, Lucy very determinedly decided it meant she didn’t have to go anymore.”

Charlotte leaned back against Sutton’s bed as Sutton pulled out a folded shirt and then opened another drawer.

“And this is the part of co-parenting that really sucks because I have to enforce the custody agreement even though I also don’t want her to go. And it’s hard to be truly annoyed at Layla, even though I am , when she was late because she was called in for an emergency surgery.” Sutton blew out a breath, from somewhere deep inside it seemed, as she pulled out a pair of pajama pants and held them up victoriously.

Charlotte could only look at her with a smile that she knew looked absolutely smitten.

Because she was absolutely smitten.

Sutton, with her hair haphazardly tossed in a ponytail that she’d undoubtedly worn all day while playing with Lucy, sharing her feelings while offering Charlotte a pair of Christmas pajamas…

Yeah. She was smitten.

“You’re well within your rights to be annoyed,” she assured Sutton when she remembered that she was able to speak and not just stare at Sutton while her heart seemed to beat too fast in her chest.

“Well, it doesn’t really change anything, does it?” Sutton said with a sigh before she shook out her shoulders and handed Charlotte her clothing, a playful grin taking over her lips. “I’d rather focus on this.”

Charlotte would do anything to keep a smile on Sutton’s face.

It was how she found herself wearing her own pair of holiday-themed long johns—hers gray with white snowmen on them, bunched at the ankles, as she presumed they fit Sutton’s longer legs perfectly—and a blue sweatshirt that she, admittedly, really liked.

Mostly because it was extremely comfortable and smelled perfectly of Sutton.

It was how she found herself laughing as they decorated the leftover sugar cookies, the ones that Lucy hadn’t taken to Layla’s.

It was how she found herself placing her gifts—the one she had for Sutton and the one she had for Lucy—under the tree. She had been surprised to see two gifts for her under there as well, one from Sutton and the other from Lucy.

She’d turned to look at Sutton, wordlessly gesturing at them, as Sutton gave her a sheepish smile. “Oh, it’s—mine’s—it’s nothing, really. We can open them later,” Sutton rushed to say, clearly feeling embarrassed.

It was how she’d found herself sitting through multiple versions of How the Grinch Stole Christmas .

“How have you never watched this? Any version?” Sutton asked, disbelieving, as she turned to look at Charlotte on the couch.

Charlotte turned her attention from the television to Sutton. “And how often have you watched it?” she teased, given that Sutton clearly knew most lines.

She loved the blush that moved over Sutton’s cheeks as she nudged her shoulder against Charlotte’s. They were sitting cuddled into each other on Sutton’s couch. The Christmas tree lights were on, casting the room in a dim but cozy glow. Sutton’s arm was draped over the back of the couch, de facto over Charlotte’s shoulders, with a blanket over both of them.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more relaxed in her life, to be perfectly honest.

“This is a Spencer family favorite,” Sutton answered as she turned to look back at the television. “Every year, we would decorate the tree together, all of us. My mom wouldn’t let it happen until everyone was available. And on Christmas Eve, we would watch this, along with some other holiday movies, make our cookies, and sit in the living room with the tree lights on.”

“It sounds really lovely. To do those things with Lucy now,” she whispered back.

Sutton nodded, looking back at Charlotte with warm eyes. “It is. It really is.”

“Every Christmas that I can remember, I spent alone.” The words spilled from somewhere deep inside of her, unbidden. Maybe it was because of how comfortable she felt. How warm and safe and cozy, with Sutton pressed up against her side.

Sutton registered what she’d said, her eyes wide and confused. “ Every Christmas? Where were your parents? Brothers? Grandmother?”

Charlotte held her gaze for a few long moments, nearly falling into them, before she cleared her throat and shook her head, wanting to fidget her hands against the blanket but stopping herself. “Well, I wasn’t truly alone, I suppose. I always had a nanny and a maid in the house. But my parents liked to vacation—as a couple—during the holidays. And with William and Caleb both older than I am, as soon as they became teenagers, they didn’t like to be home for holiday breaks. They usually had other things to do. Invitations to ski with classmates in Aspen or go on a cruise with friends. My grandmother was always very busy.”

Charlotte could feel this kernel of discomfort unravel inside of her, at sharing these details, talking about these things that did not matter , or so she’d told herself for a very long time. It… it embarrassed her, being this vulnerable.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way, if ever.

“It wasn’t a huge deal,” she pushed out, trying to work through that awful, squirmy feeling in her stomach. “It might have been different when I was very little, younger than five or six.” She didn’t have many memories of those times.

“What did you do, then? On Christmas?” Sutton asked, and her voice was so soft and so coaxing, as was her hand, which landed on Charlotte’s thigh and rubbed gently.

All of it in combination made Charlotte want to push through that terrible feeling in her stomach. To share more. To give more and to give it to Sutton, where she knew it would be safe.

“When I was younger, I would open presents with my nanny at the time. My parents’ chef would make a large dinner that I would eat. By the time I was a teenager, I stopped doing anything ‘special.’ I’d just take the time to relax from school, then work. I started spending more time with my grandmother or doing internships on holiday breaks.”

Sutton’s expression was so sad and sympathetic, Charlotte felt like it was undoing something inside of her, something old and long kept locked up, and her throat felt thick with it.

She couldn’t look away even as she admitted, “And it was never like this.” She gestured around the room, at the gingerbread houses on the counter—Sutton’s, which was pristine and beautifully decorated, and Lucy’s, which was hardly even formed into an actual house, because Sutton had explained that she had wanted to build it all by herself; at the Christmas tree, with homemade ornaments and unevenly strewn decorations; at the wall where Sutton had hung all of Lucy’s holiday artwork.

“When I stopped ‘celebrating Christmas,’ it didn’t feel like a loss of anything special,” Charlotte explained through the strange tightness in her chest. “There were no family memories or traditions that I was forgoing. Even the decorations we had were professionally done. It was so… sterile,” she decided on.

She dropped her gaze into her own lap as she bit at her cheek. “Most of my life was, I suppose.”

God, what was happening inside of her?

Talking about this felt meaningless and meaningful all in one. It felt important but also made her feel ridiculous.

But it was only when she was with Sutton that she really thought about these things. The moments she’d never experienced throughout her life. The unwavering love and the warmth and cherished childhood memories that Sutton held dear and wanted to pass on to her daughter.

Charlotte had none of them. And no one to pass them onto, even if she did.

Sutton’s hand came to rest on top of hers, and she hadn’t realized until that moment that she was white-knuckling the blanket on her lap.

She forced herself to relax and speak normally through the tightness in her throat. “It’s all—it’s silly,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Poor little rich girl story, really. My family are not bad people. I’ve never gone without anything.”

Sutton’s warm hand didn’t move. She gently took Charlotte’s hand between both of her own.

“It’s not silly,” she said, her voice low and earnest and beseeching. “I’m glad I have you here with me tonight. And not just for me,” she murmured, gently rubbing Charlotte’s hand.

It was exactly the comfort Charlotte needed to turn and look at her.

To find Sutton staring at her, eyes intense and honest and so caring , and Charlotte…

She just loved her.

She just loved Sutton Spencer with everything inside of her.

The strength of the thought, of the feeling , moved through her, and all she could do was turn just enough to truly face Sutton, surge up, and kiss her.