Page 4

CHAPTER THREE

Charlotte pursed her lips as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror in the corner of her office.

No.

She slid the eggplant Marc Jacobs blazer off her shoulders and hung it back in the closet. She routinely kept several changes in her office “just in case” and had deliberately put a few extras in for this evening.

“I’ve arranged for your schedule to be cleared for all upcoming Tuesdays from four to six, as requested.” Autumn sat on the lounger, facing Charlotte but with her face buried in her tablet. “Saturday afternoons as well, though those were easier, generally. You’ll be sending Senator Lakshi’s wife a particularly lovely bracelet in lieu of attending her birthday dinner.”

“Thank you.” She slid on the silk white Ralph Lauren blazer instead, tugging to adjust it till it hung around her waist just right.

Maya, sitting across from Autumn, never next to her, cleared her throat. “I’ve already sent your schedule for tomorrow to your email, synced in your e-calendar as well. You have the sustainability committee breakfast at eight, so the car will be there for you by quarter past seven.”

“I’ve already sent out my notes for the meeting,” she murmured absently, turning to the side and brushing a minuscule piece of lint from her shoulder.

“…right. I got a copy this morning.” Maya shook her head. “You’re in on the conference call with the UAE at one in the morning, so I figured I’d give you a heads-up for the early morning tomorrow, just in case.”

Charlotte put her hands on her hips as she stared at her two staffers in the mirror, arching an eyebrow. “Did I not send you both a brief on that call only thirty minutes ago?”

She watched as they exchanged looks; of course, the only time they were willing to admit they got along was when they had something to discuss with her and they both agreed neither wanted to bring it up.

She chose Autumn, who was always more willing to fold, spinning around as she crossed her arms. “What is it?”

Autumn sat up straighter in her chair, as if it were possible, and exchanged a look with Maya, who studiously stared down at her tablet again. Autumn glared before slowly turning back to Charlotte, cheeks flushed. “Um, well. It’s nothing, really. None of our business, actually.”

“Then why are you two staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind?” This time, she stared down Maya until she slowly looked up from her device.

“If you two exchange a look one more time?—”

“Oh! Your brother is calling, Senator.” Autumn couldn’t have sounded more relieved as she hopped up and handed Charlotte her phone from where it was perched on a side table.

Charlotte hummed as she slid her thumb over the screen to answer, watching both of her assistants scurry out of her office. “I’ll see you both in the morning, and when I do, I either want normal behavior or answers .”

“Your reservation is at Gardenia, in twenty-seven minutes, so you might want to leave soon!” Maya poked her head back into the office before quickly pulling the door shut.

Caleb was laughing into her ear already. “Ah, I love when you answer the phone and you’re terrorizing those lovely women who work for you.”

“If anything, today they are terrorizing me ,” she muttered, tugging at the bottom of the blazer once more before she gave up.

She looked fucking fantastic; she knew she did. This blazer had been tailored to her body, just as all of her wardrobe had been. It was just Sutton . Which was absolutely ridiculous because she’d never worried about what she was wearing, with just about anyone, even Sutton back in the days when they’d been sleeping together.

Sutton had always thought she looked fantastic, Charlotte knew it. It hadn’t mattered what she was wearing. And tonight they certainly weren’t doing that. Sleeping together, that is.

But after their last meeting, she felt something… more .

She did trust Sutton. She believed in her as a writer. And she did want to get to know her again, beyond that.

“What are they doing to you, my poor, poor sister?” Caleb pressed on.

“They’ve been staring at me like I’m insane all afternoon, for starters.”

“Well, what are you doing?” he asked in a way that implied he was entertaining the idea.

“Changing my blazer.” Four times.

Caleb was quiet for a few beats before asking, “Does this have anything to do with Sutton Spencer writing your biography?”

Charlotte tossed her hand into the air. “I told your loudmouth husband to keep that to himself.”

“And he would never withhold that from me!” Caleb laughed raucously in her ear. “Oh, lord. You are going to meet Sutton Spencer today for her to write your biography, and you’re probably standing in that ostentatiously large office and trying on all of your fabulous blazers.”

Charlotte forced herself to stop fidgeting with her fucking outfit, especially because her brother could clearly see what she was doing from states away. “Must you full-name her whenever you say her name?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it makes you sound crazy. We are just two…” She stared at herself in the mirror, thinking back to a week and a half ago when Sutton had been in this very office. They were simply professional women, with a bit of a personal history.

I don’t know you , Sutton’s words replayed in her head as they had many times in the last ten days.

Charlotte wouldn’t have thought that would sting, but it had. To her, Sutton was the only person who had ever known her intimately.

“We’re just two professionals,” she stated.

Caleb scoffed so loudly, it rang in her ear. “Professional! The last thing you think about Sutton Spencer is professional .”

“It’s been thirteen years, Caleb.” Exasperation rang through her tone. “I can be professional with her.”

“But you’ll want more. You’re opening a door, Charlotte. That’s why your assistants were looking at you like that. Dean told me that you requested Sutton Spencer after you saw her at that thing.” He sobered for a second, before he asked, more quietly, “What are you doing?”

“Having dinner with my biography writer,” she shot back smartly, even as her stomach turned.

The truth was, for the first time in her adult life, Charlotte truly didn’t know what she was doing. She hadn’t really thought it out when she’d requested Sutton to be her writer.

Her thought process started and stopped with this unquenchable desire to not lose Sutton completely before they could even talk or reconnect or, or… she didn’t know.

The truth was that she just did not know what she was doing or what she intended to come out of this. At the very least, she did trust Sutton’s insight and her writing abilities, and that was all she truly did have at the moment.

“Okay…” Caleb trailed off before he cleared his throat. “I mean, you are out now.”

“I’m aware.” She really, really was. She glimpsed at the antique clock on her wall. “Shit.”

She now only had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant… and in this traffic? Charlotte never made a habit of running late, and the last person she wanted to be late for right now was Sutton.

“I have to go. Tell your husband he’s a rat and I’ll talk to you both soon.”

Sutton beat her to the restaurant.

Charlotte almost cursed under her breath, but then her breath caught in her throat. The sight of Sutton sitting at a table in Charlotte’s favorite restaurant, her hair delicately tucked behind one ear, as she typed out a message on her phone was literally breathtaking.

“Senator Thompson! Your table is ready, and the other member of your party is already seated.” The host shook her out of her thoughts. “Would you like me to take you to the table?”

Charlotte blinked a few times, taking herself out of the moment as she shook her head. “I—no, that’s quite all right. Thank you, Arnold.”

That feeling fluttered in her stomach as she approached, the one she’d felt tinges of all day. What was it? It struck her then—nerves. She was nervous ! To have dinner with Sutton, even in a professional capacity. Of course.

The idea was so absurd to her, she couldn’t help but chuckle minutely. She’d been nervous on her election night, but it hadn’t felt quite the same. Professionally, Charlotte was solid. She knew she was. Even if she couldn’t get a bill to pass or had she lost an election, she could control those things. She was capable.

Sutton looked up at her then, fingers freezing on her phone, as Charlotte stood a few feet away.

With this new territory, she had to admit the ground was less than stable beneath her feet.

Shaking herself out of it, Charlotte cleared her throat. “Sorry I’m late.”

Sutton waved her off. “It’s only a few minutes; I assume you had some giant filibuster or congressional emergency?”

She was joking. Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect, after their last encounter, but she hadn’t anticipated Sutton’s little jokes. Their last meeting had been charged and entirely unexpected, though in all honesty, Charlotte couldn’t have said what she’d expected either.

As promised, in their contact since, Charlotte had personally reached out to Sutton to set up their twice-weekly meetings, but their conversations had always been very short.

She relaxed into a smile. “Yes, actually. I’ve fixed the entire infrastructure of the country.”

“Just in time for dinner.” Sutton sent her a soft grin.

A piece inside of her relaxed, and the feeling of it utterly baffled Charlotte. She hadn’t known what to anticipate at all, and because of that, she hadn’t been able to predict her own reactions.

Then again, she’d often not known what to expect with Sutton in their past, even when she thought she did. Maybe that was a part of her appeal?

It definitely was. Charlotte just hadn’t experienced it in so long.

Sutton’s phone lit up again, and Charlotte watched as blue eyes looked down to skim the words on the screen, a smile tugging at her lips as she did.

“Do you have to respond? It’s all right if you do.” Charlotte wanted to ask, desperately, who it was. Who made Sutton smile like that.

But Sutton shook her head. “It’s just Regan, telling me something Lucy said.”

“Your daughter.” Charlotte tasted the words the same way she had when she’d learned of the daughter in question.

She didn’t know why she’d been surprised; Sutton had always wanted children. It only made sense that she now had one.

“Is she your only child?”

Sutton nodded before she let out a soft sigh. “I would’ve had more, but—” She cut herself off, blinking as if keeping herself from saying too much.

Only nothing could be too much. Not for Charlotte. With every single word Sutton said, Charlotte found herself sitting more at attention.

“But?” she urged.

Sutton hesitated before she shook her head again. “It’s not important.”

“Of course it is, if it is to you.”

Sutton stared at her for a few moments, mouth slightly open, and Charlotte held those blue eyes with hers. In much too short a time, Sutton’s eyebrows furrowed, and she cleared her throat. “No, this is a business meeting.”

Charlotte had to bite the inside of her cheek. “Right.” She had agreed to it, after all. She gestured for Sutton to continue.

And continue she did. Sutton pulled out her iPad, a brand-new voice recorder, a notebook, and two pens. The page she flipped to in the notebook was already covered in her neat and tidy handwriting, and she tapped her long fingers against it.

“All right, I’ve done a bit of research in the last week around how to best write this manuscript. Obviously, we need to start with my getting your information. I figure that we can, at least for the first bit, do our info sessions, and then I can write a bit in my off days to see which style we’d prefer.”

Charlotte gamely nodded. “You’re the creative genius; I will defer to you.”

Truthfully, this biography had not been her idea, nor was it something she’d particularly wanted to do. In fact, she’d turned it down multiple times when she’d first been approached during her campaign.

She had no idea how to properly do this.

“You deferring to me… that’s a new twist for us,” Sutton murmured as she uncapped a pen. It seemed she didn’t realize what she’d said—that is, until her eyes widened as she cleared her throat and deliberately stared down at the notebook.

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, saying her thanks to their waiter for delivering the water, wine, and chef’s special that was always prearranged for her, even as she kept her eyes on Sutton. A slow smile tugged at her lips.

Oh, yes.

Sutton closed her eyes, shook her head slightly, and pursed her lips. “So”—she reopened her eyes—“I want to know: Would you rather go chronologically or by topic?”

“I think topical would suit best, for my memory purposes.”

Sutton nodded. “I thought so, too. I have a plethora of areas to cover…” She hesitated, her gaze landing on Charlotte. “Though I should ask how personal you want to get. I know that—” She paused, clearing her throat in an adorably awkward way. “You aren’t— Your personal life… It used to be… private.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smirk. “And here I thought we didn’t know one another.”

Sutton’s eyes rolled, and Charlotte reveled in it for a moment before she relented, speaking softly, “My private life is still relatively private. But I suppose that’s why I chose you for this… I will need to be a bit more open.”

Sutton’s mouth ticked into the smallest of smiles before she nodded. Their eyes caught and locked… and then Sutton’s phone vibrated again.

Charlotte observed the small smile before Sutton turned her phone to show her. The adorable little girl with Sutton’s unmistakably bright blue eyes smiling through the screen… it was only the second time she had seen the young girl, but every time she did, it felt like a punch to the stomach.

Sutton had a child . A daughter. A very adorable one at that.

Then her eyes flicked to Regan, who was holding the phone, making a ridiculous smile as the two of them held up bowls of ice cream.

Charlotte arched her eyebrow. “How in the world did Regan end up here with you? Did she pack herself in your suitcase?”

Sutton laughed before she started to explain. “She might’ve. Honestly, moving here it was—it was a hard decision, but… well, it was right for me, Layla, and Lucy. But after…” She trailed off, her eyebrows drawing together, a look in her eyes that seemed so conflicted and pained, it made Charlotte ache. It was gone a second later. “After my divorce, I was really struggling here by myself, and I couldn’t move across states with Lucy, so Regan and Emma became my saviors.”

“Regan and… Emma ?” Charlotte drew out, in disbelief. She hadn’t met Emma much thirteen years ago, but she remembered faces well enough to have a clear picture, and she knew that they hadn’t gotten along. “I must be thinking of a different Emma.”

Sutton chortled. “You’re not. Emma Bordeaux.”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair and stared. “I would have never seen it coming.”

“I know, right?” Sutton enthused. “But…” She seemed to realize what was happening with the conversation as she shook her head and cleared her throat. “We should talk outlines. We have a pretty strict schedule.”

Two hours later, they’d made plenty of headway, and it was the first time in a very, very long time that Charlotte didn’t want a business meeting to end. Because it was business, she reminded herself as she watched Sutton slide into a light jacket and stand from their table.

“Where would you like to meet on Saturday afternoon?” Charlotte asked as they walked out, very aware of every time Sutton’s arm brushed against hers. “My office? My home? Or a café, perhaps.”

Sutton hesitated, and Charlotte wished she knew the thoughts rushing through her mind before she said, “I’ll be dropping Lucy off, so I’ll be on the road no matter what. So, maybe at your office?”

Charlotte nodded, relishing the chance to be with Sutton in a more private place. “Where will you be bringing her?”

“Um, Layla, my ex, lives in Bethesda, so I’ll be dropping her off for the night. We had some scheduling issues this week.”

Charlotte had so many questions . Why was this idiot woman not married to Sutton anymore? What had happened? Why hadn’t they had more children? She knew Sutton would have wanted at least two. She loved having siblings far too much to not want that for her own children. How long had they been divorced? How had Sutton dealt with it all?

She was starving for the information, she found. She supposed it didn’t shock her; she was a curious woman.

As they walked to the curb, Charlotte slowed and turned to face her. The slight breeze wafted Sutton’s scent to her, and she allowed herself to breathe in deeply.

It was the same scent.

God.

“Do you need a ride?” she murmured as her driver pulled up to the curb.

Sutton fidgeted for a moment, before she caught herself and crossed her arms. “Ah, uh. No, thank you. I’m parked just across the street. But I’ll see you in a few days?”

“I’ll be there,” she confirmed, as she reached for the handle to the car, hesitating for a moment.

But Sutton turned and started walking over to her car, and Charlotte breathed through a long sigh as she dropped into the backseat.

It was the uncertainty of it all, she decided after the first couple of meetings. It was the uncertainty that had her changing her jacket a handful of times and feeling unsettled.

She hadn’t known what to expect with Sutton. How could she?

She hadn’t known what she wanted from Sutton. She’d been telling the utter truth to Caleb on the phone.

But, in the interim, she had been able to decipher some things that she wanted.

First, she wanted to know Sutton again. She wanted to see everything Sutton had grown into, wanted to witness what the young woman who had so much potential had made of herself.

She supposed that was maybe what had driven her to this in the first place.

But she didn’t know where to start with that, and Sutton didn’t make it easy. Once upon a time, with the Sutton of her memories, it would have been so simple. She would have let Charlotte bring her a cup of impeccable tea and sidetrack a meeting and delve into personal questions. She knew that, as certain as she knew anything.

However…

Sutton was not the young woman she’d once known; that much had become clear within the next few weeks. Time changed everything; Charlotte knew that better than just about anyone.

Sutton didn’t blush or fumble nearly as much as she used to. She also was very fastidious at keeping things professional .

Much to Charlotte’s dismay.

It didn’t matter what topic they were on; it didn’t matter that these meetings were designed for Charlotte to disclose her own information. Charlotte always tried to turn the conversation back to Sutton. She couldn’t help it; the more she saw Sutton, the more she was hungry for the information she’d missed. She wanted to fill in every gap she had encountered over the last decade.

And Charlotte had learned some things, to be fair.

1: Sutton enjoyed living in D.C., despite the fact that she’d never planned to be here.

2: She’d written a dissertation on the Romantics. (And she’d eventually given Charlotte a copy of said dissertation. Which was delightful.) She’d also tracked down a copy of Sutton’s book of personal essays entitled Tales of a Literally Hopeless Romantic . They’d been humorous and emotional, though Charlotte had skipped over a few. (“The Benefits of Friendship” and “It’s Not You, It’s Us” and “Ill-Fated From the Start” and “First Time [Redux]” and “Sapphire With Eyes to Match”… which she feared were about herself.)

3: Regan and Emma indeed were married and were happy?! Regan watched Lucy every Tuesday during their meetings.

4: Sutton’s favorite part of the week was picking Lucy up from school on Mondays; their custody agreement saw that Sutton had Lucy from Monday afternoon to Saturday morning.

5: Her ex-wife was a doctor. (But could she face down the Speaker of the House about civil rights issues at seven on a Monday morning?)

6: She was still very close to her parents.

7: She adored her job.

These were some of the facts Charlotte had managed to squirrel away into her memory over the first month of damningly professional meetings.

But before she could get more information out of Sutton, Sutton always seemed to catch herself in the process of divulging another small factoid before aiming a look at Charlotte. “This is about you .”

She learned that Sutton took care to make sure they did not touch in any way. She was very careful as to where she sat in relation to Charlotte.

And Charlotte learned that she had this intense drive to prove herself to Sutton.

She found this as she divulged anecdotes from her childhood, tales from the last decade. She… she needed to prove that she was reliable and good-natured— as much as she could be—and determined.

And, well, she needed to prove that it had all been worth it. That the pain they’d both suffered, the sacrifice she’d made— I’m in love with you. I think you could love me, too, but that you’re just too afraid —had been worth it, for her to get where she was. For her to have made the advances she’d been able to make in the last decade.

She had to prove that to Sutton.

And perhaps to herself as well.

“You were approached then for the first time regarding writing a biography. Right?” Sutton asked, three and a half weeks into their meetings.

It was the sixth meeting—Sutton had to cancel one, when her ex had reneged on taking Lucy for the weekend at the last minute—and they were discussing her successful run for governor in 2024.

Charlotte blinked from where she’d been focusing on Sutton’s right ear, behind which her red hair was carefully tucked. She’d had an errant curiosity to learn if she was still sensitive when kissed just there.

Those thoughts happened a bit more frequently than she’d like during these meetings, Charlotte found. Especially because, with every meeting, she felt it became increasingly clear that Sutton did not have the same thoughts.

Charlotte cleared her throat as she took a second to process the question. “Right, yes. That was the first time. This deal, the one I accepted, was the third attempt to sway me.”

Sutton arched an eyebrow. “Why did you agree now?” She made an I know, I know gesture, holding up her hands. “Publicity, sure. But… something happened.” She stared so astutely at Charlotte that it stole her breath away.

How did Sutton still know her like that? How did Sutton still see her so clearly?

She swallowed hard. “Yes. I… my grandmother.” She cleared her throat. “She left us all these letters that she’d written about six weeks before she died.” Charlotte closed her eyes tightly, warding off the sting behind them.

“I didn’t think she was sick?” Sutton’s voice was low and caring. It had a timbre that Charlotte knew was genuine, something she wasn’t sure other people would be capable of.

God, that was why she’d chosen Sutton for this. She was still genuine. Time hadn’t changed that.

“She wasn’t.” Charlotte cleared her throat and opened her eyes. “She wasn’t, but she was… I think she knew she wasn’t quite well.” Her voice lowered beyond her control as her eyebrows furrowed and the memories took over.

Her grandmother never said a damn word that she hadn’t felt one hundred percent, but that didn’t shock Charlotte.

“She would never slow down.” Her throat felt tight as a whisper worked its way out. “Not at all, not even for a day. The last time I saw her, she had to use her walker to get around, and I made a comment about her hip.” She attempted a smile. “It was two weeks before she died.”

Silence settled, and she stared hard, down at her knees. This was the kind of stuff she was so reticent about sharing, but… she had to.

She startled when Sutton sat next to her, on the loveseat in her office. Sutton always deliberately sat across from her, in one of the armchairs. Charlotte stared at her in surprise as Sutton gave her the smallest smile, her hand falling onto Charlotte’s, grasping and holding it tight.

Charlotte clung back, her heart pounding at the same time that it warmed with the comfort.

“We can come back to this, if you want,” Sutton murmured. “The bit I have outlined for your grandmother isn’t for a while; I figured we should ease into that.”

But Charlotte shook her head; she’d rather just get it out now. Pull off a Band-Aid.

“I had been joking. About her hip.” She dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “But I should have maybe been a bit more serious. I was too focused, though, on my senatorial campaign, that I didn’t think —” She broke off, pursing her lips as she shook her head. “Yes, sorry. Perhaps we should put this off a bit.”

She didn’t want to let go of Sutton’s hand, though. Didn’t want to lose this contact.

Sutton didn’t drop hers either. Instead, she squeezed, her long fingers feeling like they encased Charlotte’s hand as she nodded. “We can do that. But, Charlotte? Your grandmother was the strongest-willed woman in the world. I don’t think she wanted you to know that she wasn’t well, and I don’t think there’s anything she would have let you do if you did.”

Charlotte hadn’t known just how much she’d needed to hear that. But those words, coming from Sutton , felt— They felt?—

Like the only comfort she’d had about her grandmother. At all.

She managed to blink away any oncoming tears—thank god —as she nodded softly. “Yes. Well, you’re probably right.”

They sat in silence for another couple of seconds, and Charlotte was weary about bringing it to an end. It was the first contact from Sutton in weeks, and it was the first contact in years that made her feel so many things just from a simple touch.

She made herself speak before Sutton could move to pull away, once she realized what they were doing. “In the letter she left me, five pages long, she dedicated a section to professional advice. One of her points talked about how doing the biography and doing it the next time it came up was the right timing. And so, the next time it came up, I agreed.”

Sutton took in her words with a considering nod as she searched Charlotte’s gaze.

They were so close, closer than they’d been in just a quiet moment in… so long. She could see the way Sutton’s eyes had the brightest sparks of blue around the pupil. She hadn’t seen that blue in a long time.

Her grandmother’s letter also discussed how she didn’t regret her choices. How she felt fulfilled with everything she’d done and that, when she looked around in her life, she would go in peace knowing what she’d left behind.

Knowing that she’d left Charlotte behind. That Charlotte was her legacy.

And that she’d seen Charlotte struggle in terms of loneliness in the past years. The more she’d climbed up the ladder, the more isolated she’d become. That she wanted Charlotte to find her whole happiness.

She stared at Sutton, who said, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She only nodded, thinking about Sutton’s words from their first meeting about the book. You trust me .

She hadn’t even consciously put it together then, but yes, she did. She trusted Sutton in ways she trusted no one else, and it didn’t matter that thirteen years had been wasted between them. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered except for Sutton’s hand in hers, still feeling the way it had felt a decade ago. Soft. Warm. Comforting, even as it made her skin tingle.

She wanted so much more.

And Charlotte, for perhaps the first time in her life, was entirely unsure of how to go about getting it.