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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I know I don’t often come to sit down for a chat. I’m sorry about that,” Charlotte murmured as she carded a hand through her hair, tousling it back over her shoulders. “And I know that you don’t blame me for that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for it.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the seat of the bench.

“I wish you were here. I don’t know what, exactly, I would do differently if you were here, but I still wish you were. That’s a part of why I don’t often come to sit here, you know. Because I know that if I did, I’d get so bogged down in missing you. And I knew that would make me feel this—this hurt, of you being gone, all over again.”

She stared intently at the Jane Magnolia tree she’d planted in her yard. The one she’d planted with her grandmother’s ashes; the ones that weren’t buried in the family mausoleum, anyway.

Charlotte hadn’t been aware of any of her grandmother’s postmortem plans. She’d asked once, when Elizabeth had gone in for a hip surgery several years before she’d passed, what arrangements she’d want. It was a conversation Charlotte did not want to have, but she’d thought it was prudent to discuss these things when an eighty-eight-year-old was going to have surgery.

Her grandmother had waved away her question with the response, “It’s all taken care of.”

Which Charlotte accepted and never questioned again. Of course it was taken care of; Elizabeth Thompson was at the helm. She’d had a will and estate plans drawn up with her lawyers since she’d been in her forties, and, according to said lawyers, she’d carefully make updates and reviews as she’d aged, as their family had grown, as new events occurred.

She’d wanted to be cremated. She’d had half of her remains go to the Thompson Mausoleum in Great Falls, where Charlotte was from, and half of them had been given to her , along with the letter.

Which had started:

I know, my dear girl, that you will miss me most of all. Perhaps more than anyone else in our family combined. I know you and I align on the believe that death is the end. I do not believe that my soul exists in my physical remains or in a spiritual afterlife, and I know you share that view. But this is about more than that. This is about you being able to have closure in my passing—something I want you to have.

The family plot is symbolic, a necessity for public image, and an agreement I made long ago with your grandfather for us both to be laid to rest there. Never let it be said that Elizabeth Thompson didn’t keep her word, even in death.

I spent my life trying to make an indelible, intangible change in this country, in the world. I’d like, in death, to make a physical change. I want you to plant my remains, to make a beautiful, physical addition to the world. I trust that you, more than anyone, will respect that wish for me.

Charlotte hadn’t known how much she’d needed that, not until she was entrusted with all of the information. It had given her closure, even though she was of the same mind as her grandmother; she did not believe Elizabeth Thompson’s spirit existed in this Jane Magnolia.

But she had taken comfort when she’d planted it. A visceral sort of comfort, with her hands in the soil, as she’d remembered her grandmother showing her how to garden in her youth. It had been something they’d shared, something before politics and current events and chess strategy.

Maybe the only thing they shared that was relaxing.

Her grandmother had left no instruction as to which plant, exactly, she’d wanted. Charlotte took that as another sign of trust. Her grandmother trusted her to figure that out.

After extensive research, with no outsourcing to assistants for something like this, she’d chosen the Jane Magnolia. Something that was, indeed, a physically beautiful addition to this world. It originated in the South, much like Elizabeth had, but unlike other magnolias, this one was able to flourish in not only the South, but the north. It was sturdy, strong, and versatile.

She blinked up at it, feeling a sentimental satisfaction at how well the tree had done in the year since it had been planted.

“I suppose the truth is that because neither you nor I believe in an afterlife, speaking into the ether at you about my life seemed like such a waste of time and emotional energy. And perhaps it still is.” She rolled her eyes at herself, a dry laugh working its way out of her throat as she waved her hand. “But the truth is, you’re the only person whose advice?—”

Charlotte cut herself off then because if she couldn’t be entirely honest right here and now, when it was only herself present, then when could she be?

“Whose approval , I need. To do what I think I have to do. What I think… what I think I want to do.” Her stomach churned as she admitted to the fact.

As her phone vibrated next to her, the sound jarring against the ornate metal bench in her garden, she nodded at it. With a deep breath, she leaned forward and pressed her fingertips gently to the tree—to the physical reminder of her grandmother left in the world—and nodded as she did so.

All she had left of her grandmother’s were weighty expectations—some spoken, many unspoken but just as heavy—and that letter. She’d never get her official seal of approval for any of her future choices.

Charlotte shook her head as she grabbed her phone.

It was just after seven in the morning, which meant her day was truly underway. She had several calendar reminders—kudos to Maya—and a handful of texts from Autumn, regarding her schedule.

Charlotte didn’t allow herself to review them, though. She knew she’d just get distracted and potentially sucked in, and that wasn’t going to happen today.

Today…

She looked down at her phone, tapping her thumbs against the sides before she bit the bullet and messaged Autumn and Maya.

I’m afraid I’m going to have to call in sick today. Should be a simple rescheduling for most things, let me know if there are any snags. I likely won’t be up for getting any work done at home today, but I’ll be available for emergencies.

For a moment after she sent the message, she paused… before she added:

I hope you both had a relaxing time off from work.

There. She’d done it.

She’d called in sick to work for the first time in… ever. And she was faking sick for the only time in her adult life.

Today was, technically, Charlotte’s first day back to work in the new year.

There was nothing pressing on her schedule; she felt it was a kindness for those in her employ to take a day to ease back into the thick of things. In addition, many of the people she had lined up on her docket for meetings were also just starting back in the office today, and Charlotte had learned over the years that many people weren’t quite as ready to jump into work with both feet after a few days off as she was.

Typically, when she was starting back to work after any break, Charlotte was ready . Typically, she’d have already had a jump start, because she didn’t usually volunteer to take time off. Her days off were governmentally required and organized, leaving Charlotte with ample free time.

Which she usually used to the best of her capabilities. There was truly not a better time to delve into an initiative or write a motion or deep-dive into campaign strategy than on days off from work. On these days off, she wasn’t inundated with meetings or bogged down in paperwork or spending entire days in congressional hearings. This was the time she had to really get shit done .

As Charlotte poured herself a cup of coffee, she thought about how much work she hadn’t gotten done over the holiday break.

No, she hadn’t missed any deadlines, and there was technically nothing she had to do, but there was always something she could be working on. If she wanted to get ahead, if she wanted to keep with the professional plan she’d been steadfastly climbing for the last twenty years, there was always something to do.

Being proactive was the only way to accomplish everything she wanted to accomplish. She knew that.

And yet Charlotte hadn’t done that work over the break.

Instead, she’d spent Christmas with Sutton. She’d seen Dean and Caleb. And then she’d gone to see Sutton for New Year’s. She’d spent the holiday break focusing on… herself.

On her personal life.

She snorted at the thought as she took a sip of her hot coffee.

A personal life was the last thing she’d really thought about, let alone dedicated serious time to, in a long while. If ever.

Which was perhaps why she’d had nothing to say when Sutton had challenged her, three days ago: What does your life look like without that plan in front of you? What will you do with yourself?

She wanted to be angry with Sutton. She so truly did. For devaluing Charlotte’s feelings for her, her words, a declaration she’d meant with every fiber of her being.

But, on the other hand, she understood where Sutton was coming from so deeply that she couldn’t have any real ire.

Sutton didn’t—or couldn’t—believe that Charlotte could follow through on her proclamation of not running for president. That Charlotte wouldn’t be able to give up her career to be with her.

Charlotte had been hurt and scared and—and an entire jumble of feelings that she couldn’t quite put words to.

But the truth was, deep down, she knew that she didn’t even know what to say to Sutton in that moment. She’d had no words to refute.

Because… she didn’t have a personal life. She didn’t have any clue where she’d go after this chapter was over, if it wasn’t forward in politics.

Charlotte knew she wanted Sutton. She knew she wanted Sutton from the very core of her being. With everything she had.

But what she didn’t know was who she was without her political aspirations. She didn’t have a fucking clue who she was or what she would do if she wasn’t doing this .

Which was, frankly, a terrifying thought.

Who she was and what she was, without the backdrop of her career, was something she needed to figure out.

And that was even more terrifying to admit to herself.

But there was no better time than the present to figure that out, she’d decided in the last couple of days. Sutton had promised her that there was no pressure, and she believed that. She believed Sutton wasn’t pressuring her to figure everything out right now .

Charlotte felt the pressure, though, from herself. She needed to know sooner rather than later. And right now, that started with calling out sick from work. Deliberately taking a day off to sit with her thoughts and reconcile what it was to exist without throwing herself into work when she was stressed or struggling.

Easier said than done, really.

She snorted at herself as she finished her coffee, glancing back down at her phone. Resisting the urge to text Sutton was not as simple as she wished it was. Especially not after their time together over the last couple of weeks.

Christmas Eve and Christmas and New Year’s—they’d gone through so many ups and downs so quickly, and she just wanted to talk to her. Even if it wasn’t about the serious shit they were dealing with right now. Even if it was just to ask how her trip back from Massachusetts had been because she knew Sutton had arrived last night. Even if it was just to ask what she and Lucy were up to today.

Anything.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d lived for these small lines of communication over the last few months, but she found herself desperately missing them in the day-to-day.

But she’d agreed with Sutton that they’d take a cool-down period for a little while. Until they’d both thought about what the future looked like— really thought about it. Those had been Sutton’s words.

So Charlotte was thinking.

She perked up, confused and surprised, at the sound of her doorbell. For a heart-pounding moment, she couldn’t help but think that Sutton was thinking of her just as much as Charlotte was thinking of Sutton.

Even as she slid off her seat and made her way down the hall, though, she dismissed the thought.

Sutton had made it very clear that they couldn’t go forward without knowing the plan forward. So it couldn’t be Sutton.

Caleb, maybe? He’d been blowing up her phone in the last few days to chat about what was going on between her and Sutton. Maybe he’d made the drive from New York to D.C.? Maybe?—

She peered out of the hall window as she approached the door, confusion deepening as she did so. Huh.

Still, she opened the door. “Autumn? What are you doing here? I just sent you a message that I’m out of the office today.”

It was extremely unlike Autumn to not promptly read a message. In fact, Charlotte had believed that between her light schedule today and her two capable assistants, her calendar would have been entirely reshaped by now.

Instead, Autumn stood before her, a frown etched deeply into her features as her eyes darted up and down Charlotte. Assessing her, it seemed like.

“Yes, I got the message. But you didn’t say you were out of office,” Autumn corrected, her own confusion and concern apparent as her eyes bored into Charlotte’s. “You said you were calling in sick and that you should only be disturbed for emergencies!”

All right, so Autumn had, in fact, received the message.

Charlotte stared back, dubious. “Yes?”

Autumn tossed her hands in the air, gesturing to the car behind her. “I came here thinking you’d be on your death bed! That I needed to have Hamish ready to bring us to the hospital.” She narrowed her eyes, running a clinical look over Charlotte again. “Do you? Are you ready? Have you taken your temperature?”

A disbelieving laugh worked its way out of Charlotte’s throat as she shook her head. “Autumn, I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t need to.”

Instead of alleviating Autumn’s concerns, though, it seemed her words had a perplexingly opposite effect. Her assistant’s eyes grew large, her jaw snapping shut as her hand clenched the handles of the bag she was holding.

“Oh, god,” she whispered. “You got terrible health news over the break. You’ve been strangely out of communication for the last few days; even on our days off, you usually have non-urgent messages you send. And you didn’t! Not a single one.” She lifted a hand, roughly drawing it through her hair as she shook her head. “It’s—it’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure out a plan of attack?—”

Charlotte felt like she had whiplash from the sharp turn this had taken. “Autumn! I did not get terrible health news. I appreciate your spring into action, though, if that had been the case.”

Autumn blinked at her blankly then, for several seconds. “I’m sorry, Senat—Charlotte. I don’t understand.”

Charlotte pursed her lips before she took a step back and opened her door. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

Autumn’s eyebrows lifted even higher on her forehead. “Um, sure. As long as I don’t have to be at the office, I suppose?”

Charlotte nodded her acquiescence, letting Autumn walk into her foyer as she shut the door behind her. Both Autumn and Maya had been to her home handfuls of times in the last year, though usually their visits were brief, to drop something off or pick something up, in an off hour.

Still, it was unusual. Charlotte knew that. But she also knew that today was a particularly unusual day.

“If you wouldn’t mind letting Hamish know that he doesn’t need to be on call for a hospital visit?” she asked, leading the way into the kitchen.

Autumn nodded, already firing off the message.

“Appreciated,” Charlotte murmured as she walked toward the coffee machine Dean had given her years ago as a housewarming gift.

“Yeah. Sure. No problem,” Autumn said, and Charlotte could feel Autumn’s concerned stare as she poured her a mug. “I’m sorry, but I’m just—I’m so confused.”

Charlotte arched her eyebrows in question, silently asking her to elaborate.

It seemed Autumn didn’t need much more prompting than that as she tossed her hands into the air, obviously exasperated. “You never call in sick! Even when you actually are sick, you usually come into the office. Whenever you have a cold, you wear a mask into the office and cancel all in-person appointments. That time you had the flu really badly, you still worked from home and were available for communication like a normal day.”

As Charlotte slid Autumn her coffee, she nodded at her words, affirming them. Very true.

Autumn placed the bag she’d brought with her on the counter, gesturing at it. “I have, I don’t know, the entire cold and flu aisle from CVS in there. A medication for every symptom I could imagine. Because… I don’t know what’s going on.”

There was a desperation in her voice that Charlotte sympathized with. She really, truly did.

So she admitted, “I don’t really know either.”

Autumn stared at her, face scrunched up in wordless confusion.

She’d spent more time with Autumn than anyone else in the last couple of years. Not discussing her personal life with Autumn, admittedly, had been simple, given her lack of one. But even when she went on the odd date or when her grandmother had died, she’d maintained a very professional line with her assistant.

Today, though… Charlotte stared back at Autumn and felt very strongly like she saw herself in the younger woman. Autumn was in her late twenties, was sharp and driven. Queer. Despite their lack of personal life sharing, she liked Autumn and respected her.

And, for better or worse, no matter how pathetic it was, there was no one on the planet that knew Charlotte’s life the way Autumn did.

That realization was jarring, but Charlotte took it in stride. As much as she could, anyway, as she nodded to herself.

“Can I tell you the truth, Autumn? Perhaps take today as a page out of our typical book? Because to tell you what’s going on , I’m afraid I’m going to have to be more personal than professional,” she admitted, the words feeling so foreign on her tongue. “But I believe that I can trust you. In fact, I do trust you.”

She couldn’t work so closely with someone and not trust them—their opinions, their work ethic, their discretion.

Autumn stood several feet away, seeming to think over her words before she slowly nodded. “Yes. I—you can trust me. Professionally or personally. Like… a friend?”

Charlotte did not want to consider what it meant that her personal assistant was, actually, her closest friend, but it would be disingenuous to say that wasn’t the truth.

“Like a friend,” she confirmed, leaning against the island in her kitchen as she took a breath. She was about to share her personal life details, her sacred details, everything Sutton-related, with Autumn.

Talking to Caleb and Dean hadn’t gotten her anywhere. Her grandmother couldn’t answer her.

So, it seemed this was her best option.

Autumn nodded, her interest appearing more and more rapt as the seconds ticked by.

Charlotte summoned her courage as she cleared her throat. “The truth, Autumn, is that for the first time in my memory, I’m playing hooky. Taking a personal day, if you will.”

Autumn’s eyebrows moved up on her forehead in question, even though she didn’t voice anything.

Charlotte took it as her cue to continue. “The reasoning for that is…” God, where to even begin? She drummed her fingers against the marble countertop as she thought it over. Even if she could think of where to begin, she couldn’t fathom how to break it all down to Autumn. How she’d be able to spill her innermost thoughts and emotions aloud.

Seeming to sense her issue, Autumn perked up. “Okay. I have an idea. Do you have playing cards somewhere? Or a board game? I figured cards would be a safer bet.”

Confused but, admittedly, intrigued, Charlotte had to take a moment to think. Because she wasn’t someone who typically played games, honestly. Even if she had someone to play them with at her home, she never would have had the time.

Only, “Actually, I do,” she finally said. “Have cards.”

The last time Dean and Caleb had come for a visit, they’d all played poker, and then they’d left the cards when they’d gone home.

Charlotte gestured for Autumn to follow her into the living room before she started pulling open the drawers at the base of her television stand. She emerged victorious, holding up the cards as she turned to stare questioningly at Autumn. “What would you like to do with said cards?”

“When I was younger, I had some trouble… verbally expressing myself,” she settled on. “But whenever I had something going on that I didn’t know how to talk about, my mom would play games with me. Whenever something good happened to me in the game, she had to share something she was thinking about, and when something good happened for her, I had to share.” She frowned then at something much deeper, below the surface, before she shrugged. “I suppose it worked because it made me feel like there was no pressure. It was just a game. We were just… talking.”

Charlotte figured it would be worth a try.

They started with rummy, and by the end of the hand, as Charlotte scored thirty points higher, she sent Autumn a questioning look.

She nodded and bit at her lip before she stated, “At Christmas, you asked me if I was going home to Rhode Island. And while you’re right in that I went to Brown for college, I’m not actually from Rhode Island. Home is in Ohio. And I haven’t been back there in a long time.”

Surprise slid through Charlotte at Autumn’s blatant honesty, and she could admit that she appreciated her sharing.

“Apologies for getting it wrong. The place where the person I spent at least eight hours a day with is from seems… egregious to not know.”

Autumn shrugged as she dealt their new hand. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

When Autumn beat Charlotte by forty-five points in the next hand, she felt more relaxed. More settled in the fact that this was the time to be honest.

“I’m sure you’re aware of my personal relationship with Sutton,” she started, aiming a look at Autumn, who nodded quickly, a small smile playing at her lips, before she flushed and cleared her throat.

“I—yes. I’m aware that there is very likely something more to your relationship than is strictly professional.”

“Glad to confirm it for you,” Charlotte dryly responded, making Autumn laugh.

“I mean, it was confirmed for me a few ways, but…” She rolled her lips before shrugging. “If we’re speaking plainly right now? I’ve had suspicions about you two since the first day she came into the office.”

Charlotte could only stare, which seemed to prompt Autumn to explain. “I just—you were so … excited? To see her? That she was even just coming in to have a meeting with you. I’ve seen you in a lot of situations, Charlotte. In meetings with people you respect and admire, speaking to people you loathe, and everything in between. I was even there the day before you went on a date with that woman last year. The pharmaceuticals rep from Virginia?” She shook her head, wrapping her hands around her mug. “And nothing was like the way you looked the very first day Sutton came to our office. It’s only gotten even more intense since.”

Holy hell, was Charlotte blushing ? “Ah,” was all she could say, which seemed to alarm her assistant.

“Is that all right to say? Because I thought?—”

“It was,” she cut in, resolutely willing her blush to go away. “Right now, what I need to hear is honesty. In all facets. So that… was good to know.”

Autumn looked relieved, her shoulders slumping slightly as she blew out a breath. “Cool.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but grin. Cool . Something Autumn would never say to her during their workday.

She shuffled the cards as she started speaking again. “So you know Sutton and I are… engaged in a personal relationship. What you might not know is that it began over a decade ago. When I was first running for Congress.”

She admittedly did take some satisfaction from the way Autumn gasped in surprise.

“ What ?”

Charlotte nodded slowly, biting her cheek, before elaborating. “Yes. We met and carried on a very discreet—” How did she explain that? They hadn’t been in a relationship technically, but to reduce what they’d had down to a fling or an affair made her want to be sick. Screw it. To Charlotte, they’d had a relationship. The most meaningful one she’d ever had. “Relationship. Before a very, very messy breakup.”

Sutton telling Charlotte how she’d shattered her heart rang in her ears, making her stomach clench. Hearing it from Katherine on Thanksgiving hadn’t been easy, but somehow, it was so much worse hearing it from Sutton.

“Because I chose my career and I wasn’t ready to come out publicly then.”

It wasn’t easy to say that; it really wasn’t. But right now, she was going for broke.

Autumn appeared to be utterly fascinated.

Charlotte paused, though, as they played their next hand.

When Autumn edged Charlotte out by only five points, she gracefully accepted defeat.

“When we ran into one another again, I…” Charlotte’s eyes unfocused from Autumn as she thought back to that evening, the first time that she’d seen Sutton in so long. “I realized I’d never quite gotten over her.”

She stared intently at the cards as Autumn shuffled them.

“I realized, so acutely, that there was no one I’d ever met who made me feel that way. And I didn’t want to lose her again. So we’ve been seeing one another even as we work on the book.”

“That was the only reason I had doubts about your relationship,” Autumn said as she dealt. “Because you typically are so professional and so responsible, I thought maybe there was a slight chance I was reading into things. Maya never doubted it, though,” she grudgingly admitted.

Charlotte outscored Autumn by fifteen points on the next hand.

“Maya and I are still seeing each other,” Autumn confessed, a deep blush staining her cheeks. “I… I don’t really know what to do about it. I definitely didn’t expect for it to turn into what it is now. I’m—I’ve tried to stay as focused on work and on my career as possible, that I haven’t really had a relationship since college.”

Charlotte tilted her head, extremely endeared to the young woman, especially as Autumn fiddled with the pendant on her necklace.

“She gave me this necklace for Christmas,” she whispered, as they both looked down at it. Autumn’s fingers toyed with it. “And she—god, she invited me to Philly! I don’t know what is going on there.”

The words were hushed, spoken seemingly to herself, before she gave Charlotte a look of wide-eyed concern.

“Not that—it’s not coming into play at work. I’d never let it. And neither would Maya.”

Charlotte found herself grinning as she shook her head. “I work with you every day; I’m well aware that both of your work is up to par. Don’t worry.”

Autumn visibly relaxed as Charlotte dealt the next hand.

“Besides,” Charlotte said, “we’re being friends at the moment.”

“You’re the closest thing I have to one,” Autumn reported under her breath before she gave another of those embarrassed, worried looks.

“Yeah, you’re the closest thing I have to one, too,” Charlotte murmured, feeling the same embarrassment at the words, though far less intensely than Autumn seemed to.

At the end of the day, Charlotte was a workaholic. It wasn’t news to her, and it wasn’t a secret. Who else would she be spending so much time with?

Autumn breathed out a soft laugh. “Wow. Cool. Okay.”

At the end of the hand, Autumn took a victory with fifty points, and Charlotte stared down at their cards as the words bubbled up. “I told Sutton I wouldn’t run for president, if we could be together.”

“You what?!” Autumn positively yelped.

Her assistant stared at her in utter shock, her hand over her heart.

“I’m—I apologize.” Autumn took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out before clearing her throat. “What?” she repeated, far more calmly.

“Sutton has a daughter?—”

“Lucy, who you have plied with a gift basket when she was sick, and video games, and that guitar for Christmas, and whom you have babysat. Yes, I know.”

“Correct,” she affirmed, picturing Lucy. The way she’d given Charlotte the tour on New Year’s Eve, her excitement at seeing Charlotte at the party. She couldn’t help but smile all over again, at the girl’s easy well of affection. “And Lucy has not grown up in the public eye. Which is how Sutton wants to keep it. She doesn’t want to thrust Lucy under the microscope of public opinion. And I understand that.”

She really, really did.

Maybe it even made her love Sutton more, in an wild sort of way.

But Sutton would take care of her daughter and her daughter’s needs before anything and anyone else, and Charlotte wouldn’t want her to be any other way. She wouldn’t be Sutton then.

“So if you want to have a future with Sutton… you can’t do it by running for president,” Autumn quietly surmised, still sounding shell-shocked.

Charlotte nodded, the conflicting feelings battling it out inside of her all over again.

“I love Sutton,” she confessed, and the words felt so—so nice to say. Freeing. Validating.

It made her laugh, strangely, wildly, as she carded a hand through her hair. “I do. I love her, and I want to be with her in the very real, undeniable, not-discreet relationship kind of way. But… what does my life look like without my career? Who am I without it?”

Her laughter faded as she technically stared at Autumn, but wasn’t really seeing her. She was trying to see something far beyond her. Something she couldn’t see, because Charlotte was many things, but she’d never claimed to be clairvoyant.

Pursing her lips, she refused to get caught up in the emotions—how scary, how lonely, how uncertain—surrounding how her future looked if she took away her plan. Even if she and Autumn were acting as friends right now, Charlotte was entirely unwilling to bare herself in that way to her assistant. To anyone, really.

Except for Sutton.

“In truth, I have no idea. I’m very certain that I wouldn’t resent Sutton, no matter what the outcome. She isn’t forcing my hand or being selfish, and her concerns aren’t unfounded. But it’s a daunting thought, admittedly, and I’m not exactly sure what to tell Sutton. What do I tell her about a future together, about myself in that future, if I have no idea what it entails?”

That was where Charlotte had found herself stumped in the last couple of days.

“That’s… definitely a pickle,” Autumn quietly conceded.

Her solemn confirmation of Charlotte’s pickle made her chuckle. “You’re telling me.”

The day was utterly not what Charlotte had anticipated it being. She’d anticipated calling out of work and toiling around her house, perhaps making some of Sutton’s classic pros and cons lists and researching potential career possibilities. Trying to figure out where she saw herself without a future in politics, what she could do with herself. Trying to figure out what she could say to Sutton. How they could overcome this and come out on the other side together.

She absolutely could not have predicted she’d spend her entire morning and early afternoon with Autumn Alton, her assistant-turned-friend, playing card games.

Then they played The Game of Life, which Autumn apparently had ordered to be delivered from somewhere? Charlotte did appreciate Autumn’s resourcefulness; Autumn had never been presented with a task or a conundrum at work that she hadn’t been able to figure out.

Charlotte had been dubious of the game, but Autumn had insisted they play—three times.

Every time they did, Charlotte was given a new career and different obstacles to work through in the game, but she and Autumn ran through them as if they were real possibilities.

Truthfully, it was far more thought-provoking than Charlotte would have thought, more creative than Charlotte ever could have come up with herself, and fun to boot.

Though she didn’t believe firefighter, IT technician, or teacher were viable options for herself, working through hypotheticals made her brain work.

As they came to the end of their second game of MASH in the early afternoon, Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned back against her couch.

“Autumn, I’ve always seen myself in you, but particularly today, with the realization that you are taking my personal life and treating it the same as we would treat a problem-solving brainstorm session in the office is the confirmation I never knew I needed.”

Autumn shrugged. “It just felt right.” But she had a pleased smile on her face as she accepted Charlotte’s words.

Charlotte drew out a deep breath, her laughter fading as she looked down at her latest result in the MASH game.

Owning a mansion, single, president, no children, driving a station wagon—her car with Hamish as her driver had been crossed off in the second round of cuts—and living in New York.

Other than the station wagon and the living in New York—though, granted, she owned a home there—it was an accurate representation of what she could expect if she stayed the course.

“I’ve always stayed the course,” she murmured, lightly tapping at Autumn’s neat handwriting. “Ever since I made the course, in high school, I’ve never strayed. There were moments, like when I’d been with Sutton back in the day. Moments that I nearly changed direction. But I never did.”

“And… did the course go the way you expected it to?”

A wry smile played on Charlotte’s lips as she lifted her gaze to Autumn’s and nodded. “Yes, actually. This was the course. Steady and direct.” She lifted her arm and held it out straight in front of her. “No wavering. Hold to the strength of my convictions. I’m exactly where I always thought I would be when I came up with the plan.”

Funny, really. How she was just where she’d always thought she’d want to be, but looking at it laid out for her in this MASH game didn’t make her feel any pride.

“Charlotte, can I speak to you as we’ve been speaking today? As… friends?” Autumn asked.

Charlotte met her gaze again, giving her permission, though it came with an inquisitive look.

“From what I’ve heard today, you’re unsure of what to do without your career in politics. That seems pretty clear,” Autumn said. “Clearly, it’s all you’d ever planned for yourself.”

Thus far, Autumn was only summarizing Charlotte’s own words, so this couldn’t be the point Autumn was trying to make. She waited.

Autumn paused, though, looking more and more unsure about saying exactly what was on her mind. “I really just don’t want to overstep. Because I know today has been—er, personal bonding.”

Charlotte snorted.

“But I also know that tomorrow we will be back to business as usual, and I don’t want to speak out of turn,” she finished.

“Understood,” Charlotte validated her. “But short of some sort of assault or heinously disrespectful comments, I want you to tell me what’s on your mind. I assure you, Autumn, I have heard a lot of remarks thrown my way over the years in this profession. I have a fairly tough skin.”

Autumn nodded, toying with her necklace briefly before she stated, “So when it comes to a future without your career, you’re—uncertain. Maybe a little scared.”

More than a little, but Charlotte appreciated Autumn splitting the difference.

“But… whenever we’ve talked about the possibility of things going the other way? The possibility of you keeping your career and staying the course ? You seem—lost.” Autumn’s voice dipped to a whisper, but Charlotte felt the impact of that single word, landing in her stomach like a fucking stone.

She inhaled sharply.

Autumn continued. “When we played that game of Life, the second one, where we had you bypass having a partner as you drove through life, you weren’t engaged at all in the hypotheticals. Not the same way you were when you had the fake Sutton next to you. And when you talked about her earlier? About how you two met and then you lost her, it’s…” She rolled her lips before delivering the true assessment. “You seem devastated at the idea of letting her go again.”

Yes. God, Charlotte hated it, but yes. Autumn’s observation struck such a chord inside of her because it was the honest truth. It reflected the way Charlotte felt, even if she hadn’t voiced it in so many words.

Autumn shrugged then, finally dropping her hand from her necklace. “I just think that, in the grand scheme of things, that aimlessness and devastation is worse than the uncertainty.

“You’re gifted with a dedication and ambition and intelligence that so many people would die for,” she stated, a passion blazing through her words. A passion so strong, frankly, it was surprising to Charlotte to hear from her typically very controlled assistant.

“But you also seem to have found yourself in love with someone who knows all of you and loves all of you. Who couldn’t help but fall back into feelings with you even after you broke her heart. Whom you’ve spent more than a decade never getting over. So, to be entirely honest, who cares? Who cares what you’ll do after this?” She gestured at Charlotte’s work laptop on the table. “You are brilliant and ambitious and dedicated; you don’t have to do this one career —this one-in-a- billion career—to utilize that. You will figure it out.”

Autumn caught herself then, demurely coughing before she fixed her posture the way she usually sat at her desk. “All I mean is… it doesn’t actually seem as difficult of a choice as you’re making it. Sutton is understandably scared. It’s scary to trust people that hurt you so badly. But if she is what you want, then it’s time to stray from the course and put your ambition and dedication into making her see what you’ve let me see today.”

Charlotte could only stare for several moments before she realized why. Before she realized the role reversal she’d found herself in, with a woman ten years her junior, who worked for her.

But damn it if everything Autumn had said wasn’t exactly what Charlotte had needed to hear. If those words didn’t make Charlotte’s heart pound faster in her chest. If she didn’t feel that sense of purpose inside of her, something she’d been missing in the last few days.

“Autumn, you are a very intelligent person yourself. I’ve never regretted hiring you, not for a single moment, but right now, I think it might have been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

A breathless hour later, Charlotte found herself knocking on Sutton’s front door.

She shifted restlessly from foot to foot, her stomach alight with butterflies. With hope, with nerves. She hoped that whatever words she managed when Sutton opened the door were the right ones.

Her nerves settled—bafflingly so—when Sutton opened the door.

Those blue eyes widened in clear surprise. “Charlotte? Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I called out of work today,” she found herself stating, startling both of them. What ?

Sutton’s eyes seemed to widen even further, concern washing over her expressive face. “Are you all right? I can’t even imagine how terrible you must have felt to take a day off of work for it.”

She reached out and landed her hand on Charlotte’s wrist, pulling her inside before she quickly shut the door behind them. She ran her eyes down Charlotte’s body as if trying to silently assess her ailment.

“You can’t be standing out there in the cold when you must be feeling like you’re on death’s door. What are your symptoms? Do you?—”

Charlotte stopped her with a shake of her head. “No. I’m not actually sick; I just called in sick. Funny, you aren’t the first person to think that way.”

There was a clear relief that laced through Sutton then, her breath pushing out of her in a rush as she rested her hand over her stomach. “Charlotte, you are not the kind of person who calls in fake sick.”

“I am, though. I am when I’m more invested in thinking about us than I am in working,” she insisted, and—wow. That was entirely the truth. A truth that felt good to say.

Especially when she could see that it rendered Sutton speechless.

Standing in Sutton’s hallway, only a foot away from her, engulfed in the warmth and the feeling of home that lived here, quieted all the deafening anxieties and uncertainties that had plagued Charlotte in her own home over the last few days.

It was that feeling that she had with Sutton. That feeling like the world was all right.

For once, maybe the weight of the world wasn’t on her shoulders. She knew how to describe it now. The freedom from that feeling was something Sutton, and only Sutton, could give her.

If she’d needed another reason that she was doing the right thing, there it was.

“I know you don’t believe that I can reconcile giving up the future I’ve spent my life working towards, Sutton. I understand that, and I know why. Because part of me wasn’t even sure. Not really.”

She gamely shrugged, though she didn’t take her eyes off Sutton for a second.

“And maybe I’m still not entirely certain. Because, yes, I did say those words to you on New Year’s without truly knowing. And the truth is, I’m not sure when I will find my next career step. I have four more years in my Senate seat to figure that out.”

Terrifying. But far less terrifying than looking at a future without Sutton.

“That’s what I can offer you right now.” She gestured at herself, that quivering of butterflies working through her when she hoped—for the first fucking time in her life—that she was enough.

“No, I’m not certain exactly where I will end up professionally, but I do know that I can live without being the president, and I know I can be happy without it. I know I can.”

There was a strength in her voice that she felt coursing through her veins.

“What I don’t know is if I can live my entire life without you and be happy without you. I told you on New Year’s that I made a mistake in giving you up last time, and I can admit that. But I know who I am, and I learn from my mistakes. I spent over ten years wondering what life could have been like if I’d been brave and chosen you before. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering what we could have been if I’d been brave this time.”

The utter shock on Sutton’s face was palpable. It felt very in line with the way Charlotte could feel her heart pounding, her blood rushing in her ears.

“My life is—and always has been—the result of my choices. Let me choose you, Sutton.”