Page 7

CHAPTER SIX

What the hell had she done?

It was really all Sutton had been able to think since the previous night.

She was Sutton Spencer . She didn’t do those kinds of things! She didn’t just walk into Charlotte Thompson’s office and—and… have her way with her .

And yet she had. She’d walked right into Senator Charlotte Thompson’s office, pushed her against the desk, and fucked her. There was no other way to say it. And then—or, at the same time?—Charlotte had made her come.

It was all she was able to see in her mind’s eye. Not even just when she closed her eyes and thought about it, but constantly . The way Charlotte had moved against her, the heat in her eyes, the way she’d sounded as she’d moved against Sutton’s hand. The way she’d felt .

The way she’d made Sutton feel… No one touched her like Charlotte did. So knowingly, all confidence and no question.

God. She?—

“Sutton, hello?” Regan snapped her fingers in front of her eyes, jolting Sutton out of her thoughts and back into the moment.

Brunch. At the hole-in-the-wall diner down the street from where Regan and Emma lived; it was Regan’s favorite place.

Sutton rubbed a hand over her heated cheeks, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

And she had been . She had been listening to Regan talk about the remodel at her bakery, which was delivered in typical Regan fashion: big gestures, perfect delivery, and, typically, Sutton would have been listening without difficulty.

Regan nailed her with a critical look. “Like I don’t know when you’re zoning out.” Also in typical Regan fashion, she wasn’t offended by Sutton’s lack of focus. Instead, she was studying Sutton so closely, her dark eyes narrowed as she stared across the table…

Sutton ducked her gaze to pick at the pancakes she’d barely taken a bite of. Otherwise, and maybe even in spite of this defensive maneuver, she knew Regan would be able to read her like a book.

“Something big is going on in your head,” Regan muttered. “I clocked that when we sat down, but?—”

“Babe, if Sutton doesn’t want to talk about what’s going on in her life, we don’t make her ,” Emma cut in as she came up behind Regan, cupping a hand on her jaw to tilt Regan’s head up, ducking down to plant a soft, quick kiss on her lips. Sutton watched as Regan so naturally moved with the touch, a warmth lighting up her face as she tugged the chair next to her out just in time for Emma to sit.

“Sorry I’m late, I just had to meet this deadline?—”

“For the Post article, I know.” Sutton waved Emma off, smiling in genuine happiness and relief at the sight of her. “How did it go?”

Regan shook her head, staring between the two of them. “Ohhh no.” She reached down and took Emma’s hand in hers in an easy, natural move, their fingers intertwining on the table as Regan used her other hand to point to Sutton. “Sorry, light of my life, but we all know this is one of my biggest and best skills: being able to tell when something is going on with Sutton and getting her to talk about it so that we can help with it!”

“And one of my biggest skills is making you stop,” Emma reasoned, arching an eyebrow at Regan as she tilted her head in challenge.

Regan turned to face her, mouth falling open. “I know it is, but look at her ! I’ve tried to let it go for the last half hour; I really have!”

Regan gestured at Sutton, who shot them both a look even as she felt her cheeks flush. She couldn’t hide things from the people who knew every single tell she had; it just wasn’t possible.

Emma sighed at Regan, squeezing her hand as she obligingly looked across the table at Sutton. Sutton took a deep breath and met her gaze head-on. In a mere handful of seconds, Emma allowed begrudgingly, “Yeah, okay. There’s clearly something going on.”

Regan lit up, turning to face Emma and leaning in quickly to pepper her cheek with kisses. “Thank you!”

“It’s nothing ,” Sutton insisted.

“It’s Charlotte,” they said in unison, Emma matter-of-factly, Regan with a Gotcha! tone to her voice.

Sutton groaned. Just the mention of her name brought back the mental images. And with the images came all her messy feelings.

There was the aching want , the alarm at her own actions—because she hadn’t intended on doing that. Not at all . But when she’d been there and overwhelmed by the feelings Charlotte’s kiss had invoked in her days earlier and Charlotte had leaned against her desk looking powerful and sexy and, ugh . Then there was the embarrassment, the guilt—because she hadn’t even asked . That definitely wasn’t like her.

“Yes, fine, it has something to do with Charlotte, but I don’t want to hear that you knew this would be a bad idea or anything like it!” she said, dragging her hands through her hair.

“I can’t believe you had sex with Charlotte Thompson! What year is it!” Regan all-but shouted, “J’accuse!”

Sutton reached out to knock away the finger Regan was using to point at her. “ Enough ! We aren’t— We—we’re…” God, her cheeks were burning , and she groaned as she buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to. And I am not talking about it again.”

Regan absolutely cackled at that, but when Sutton looked up, Emma was looking at her in a much more muted amusement.

A minute later, when Regan managed to take a deep breath, she slid the omelette she’d ordered to Emma’s side of the table, along with the orange juice. “I got these for you,” she managed to get out through little bursts of chuckling before she looked back at Sutton. “So, if you didn’t mean to, did you slip and your fingers fell into her?”

That set her off all over again even as Sutton pursed her lips. She wouldn’t laugh. She wouldn’t.

“You assume it was fingers,” Emma murmured as she took a sip of her juice.

Regan cackled loudly, leaning heavily into Emma. And even Sutton had to crack a smile at that, amid the tumult inside of her.

“You two are the worst.”

Sutton took a deep breath when she found herself outside Charlotte’s townhouse later that afternoon.

She’d done everything she could possibly think of to keep herself busy after brunch. She’d returned to her house, folded and put away all of her and Lucy’s laundry, vacuumed the floors that didn’t need to be vacuumed, and graded the remaining two papers she had left to give back in her Victorian Literature intro course, even though the class only had handed them in two days ago. But she’d gotten very little sleep last night, so. There was that.

The entire time, she had vacillated as to what to do regarding everything with Charlotte.

Sutton hadn’t felt like she’d been on even ground since she’d seen Charlotte for the first time nearly two months ago. Just seeing Charlotte had thrown her off-kilter, which had been followed by walking on eggshells after Charlotte had asked Sutton to write her biography, as she tried not to divulge any personal information and stick to only business ; there was the whirlwind of a week they’d had with the kiss, and then, last night…

If she could , she would avoid it all. If she could, she would bury herself in anything else to not think about this. And yet…

“You can do this,” she encouraged herself, trying to shake out her nerves before she rang the doorbell.

The thing was, how everything had played out between them last night was all very, very simple, when it was boiled down.

Charlotte Thompson made her burn up inside. She made Sutton ache and want and desire things that Sutton never thought she would want. Things that she didn’t want; not with anyone else, anyway. She made Sutton question her own sanity, with the things she was willing to do to be with her.

It had been like that a decade ago, when they’d been sleeping together.

Charlotte hadn’t been the one to suggest they have sex in the first place all those years ago; it had been Sutton who had shown up at Charlotte’s home, suggesting they sleep together.

It hadn’t been Charlotte who suggested they become friends with benefits in the first place; that had been Sutton, when she’d realized that Charlotte desired her in the same way Sutton wanted her .

And even though Charlotte had been the one to initiate this development in the form of that kiss, it was Sutton who had been haunted by it all week and had been behaving… abnormally.

Charlotte might have initiated a kiss, but she’d behaved like a normal human being after.

She hadn’t come to Sutton’s office unprompted and fucked Sutton against her desk. Nope, she hadn’t done that at all. It was beyond one of Sutton’s wildest fantasies…

Anyway.

Sutton just needed to face this, apologize, and move on from it like an adult. And that’s what she was going to do.

Still, her nerves fluttered in her stomach as she heard footsteps approach from the other side of the door.

And as the door was pulled open, she nearly swallowed her tongue, tangling her fingers in front of her tightly.

There was something incredibly, completely entrancing about Charlotte in her work clothes. The fitted slacks, the silk shirts, the blazers, the dresses. All of these classy, polished ensembles spoke to who she was, all she’d accomplished, her status, her power, and they did, admittedly, drive Sutton a little crazy.

But Charlotte at-home was different.

This moment was a stark reminder that Sutton hadn’t seen this side of Charlotte since they’d reconnected.

Charlotte was wearing a comfortable-looking, blue Yale sweatshirt and gray cotton shorts, with all her long, wavy, brown hair tossed into a bun. It had clearly been done up hours ago, as tendrils were now falling out.

This Charlotte did something entirely different to Sutton.

It fused with the images Sutton still had in the recesses of her brain, from the nights she would hang out with Charlotte in her apartment after work, when Charlotte would immediately change into comfy clothing.

This was what Sutton had always felt was not exactly the real Charlotte, because Charlotte at work? There was nothing more real than that, honestly. Sutton knew all too well how highly her career ranked on her list of priorities, but this at-home Charlotte was the one not many people were able to see—the vulnerable, soft, even sweet Charlotte—and being faced with her once again tripped Sutton up for a second.

God, she looked good.

“Sutton.” Charlotte’s surprise was palpable in the way she said her name, in the way her big doe eyes widened and took Sutton in. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi.” She had to clear her throat again. She tugged at her sweater before brushing her palms down her jeans. “I just— I was wondering if we could… if I could talk, about yesterday? Please?”

Both of Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted as she took in Sutton’s request, nodding slowly as she opened the door wider in invitation, a smile gracing her soft, pink lips. “Whatever you’d like. Why don’t you come in?”

Well, that was easy. Step one already done…

“Come on, I’ll take you into the sunroom off the kitchen. I think you’ll like it.” Charlotte tilted her head as she shut the door and started walking down the hallway.

Sutton could only stare around the townhouse. The floors were all beautifully polished hardwood, with large, open archways between many of the rooms. The living room they passed, the den, the dining room… she stared into them all, unable to curb her curiosity.

They were all, unsurprisingly, impeccably decorated with artwork and plants. She would bet anything Charlotte tended to the plants herself.

“Do you live here alone?” she couldn’t help but ask as they walked through the rooms and she peered in at vaulted ceilings and, well, more space than Sutton could ever imagine living in even with Lucy, let alone by herself. She’d never lived by herself, and she didn’t think she would enjoy it.

First she’d lived with her family, then with a roommate in college, then Regan, then Layla, and now Lucy. She found herself without Lucy for only two nights a week, and those were the times she had to keep herself busiest.

Charlotte shot her an amused look over her shoulder, mesmerizing waves of dark hair shifting over her shoulder. “As the woman writing my biography, what do you think?”

“Ha, ha,” she mock-laughed, even as she inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. Right. Of course, Charlotte lived here alone. Who else would be here? Sutton knew damn well Charlotte didn’t have a partner.

Then again—her stomach twisted—she didn’t know much about Charlotte’s personal or romantic life. She knew she’d publicly come out, of course, but there was nothing else about her romantic pursuits discussed in the public eye. And it hadn’t been a topic they’d delved into… yet.

Since they’d agreed to move topic-by-topic through events in Charlotte’s life, that was a subject that they could blessedly cover last. Sutton wasn’t sure she was ready to hear about it.

But she had strong reason to believe Charlotte was unattached right now, right? Charlotte had kissed her, after all. Then again, Charlotte hadn’t been the one to take things any further.

God, the idea was making the dread and anxiety clawing up inside of Sutton even more sickening.

“Caleb and Dean stay here whenever they are in the area,” Charlotte extrapolated, bringing Sutton back into the moment. She paused for a few moments. Sutton knew there was more coming with the thoughtful look on her face before Charlotte murmured, “And my grandmother, in the last couple years of her life, stayed here whenever she was in D.C.”

Sutton wondered, unbidden, at the tone of Charlotte’s voice, how lonely she was here in this big townhouse. There was nothing obvious that made her think it, though; Charlotte wasn’t giving any big signs or frowning or anything of the sort.

Unlike Sutton, Charlotte had always lived alone. She’d practically lived alone even when she’d been growing up. In a mansion with parents who were hardly ever there, her company had primarily been Caleb—until he’d gone to college when Charlotte was sixteen—and hired help.

Still, Sutton couldn’t help but empathize.

Charlotte’s loneliness had been a fleeting thought she’d had several times over the last month. She just refused to let herself dive too deeply into it. Charlotte’s life was none of her business—that is, beyond what she was sharing for her biography.

As open as Charlotte was being about facts and anecdotes, there was no way Charlotte would ever tell Sutton, in a professional capacity, that she was lonely . No fucking way. It didn’t matter how long it had been since they’d been close; she knew that hadn’t changed. Charlotte wouldn’t want to even admit that vulnerability to someone in her life, let alone the world.

But, she thought, as she looked around into the big, beautiful, well-decorated rooms… it had to be lonely sometimes. Her grandmother was no longer around to provide the support and reassurance that she’d given when Sutton knew Charlotte; back in the day, they’d had a weekly tea, a tradition that used to make Charlotte glow whenever she’d talked about it. She used to radiate with a quiet pride every time she talked about her interactions with her grandmother. Those moments couldn’t happen anymore.

And her closest friends—her only friends, back then, other than Sutton, who, well, she didn’t think she counted—were Caleb and Dean. Sutton didn’t know for certain, but she couldn’t imagine a life in the harried world of politics had allowed that to change very much.

Charlotte didn’t let anyone in, not easily. She’d discussed many times with Sutton that with the people she spent the most time with, her coworkers, she could only let in at arm’s length. She could never let herself trust them fully, because – in Charlotte’s own words – just about everyone in politics had their own agenda, and she could rarely be one-hundred percent certain as to who someone answered to.

And now, without having Caleb and Dean in D.C. as she lived here for eight months of the year, all Charlotte had were her work acquaintances and her assistants.

It must have been achingly lonely, Sutton thought again, worrying at her bottom lip as she stared at Charlotte.

Charlotte seemed entirely unaware of the odd direction Sutton’s thoughts had taken as she led them into a dreamy kitchen.

Sutton’s eyes widened at it—the unexpectedly warm colors and homey feeling, the wood and marble that mixed in a gorgeous way on the counters and the cabinets.

“This is amazing,” she blurted out, taking it in.

Charlotte turned to face her, an amused smirk on her lips. “I am not surprised you think so.” She slid long, deft fingers along the island counter as she walked by it, Sutton following the motion closely. “As you may remember, though, this kitchen sees very little action.”

“That’s a crime,” she couldn’t help but shoot back because, yes, she would love to cook in this kitchen.

Charlotte’s laugh was low and floated right over Sutton. “I thought you would think that.”

They paused here, as Charlotte turned to a very fancy coffee press—a very Charlotte thing to have. She poured herself a mug, then turned to look at Sutton over her shoulder.

“Can I get you a tea? I have, well, just about any kind you’d like.” She chuckled lightly. “I don’t often drink them, but I do have them.”

Sutton marvelled at the ease and simplicity of this moment. Of her . Because Charlotte did have this uncanny ability to act like everything was fine. Normal. Like they hadn’t had sex eighteen hours ago on Charlotte’s work desk before Sutton ran away.

Sutton had been agonizing over it, nonstop, since it had happened, and even though she was here to face her faux pas, she felt like she wanted to be sick.

Charlotte didn’t have that problem.

Then again, when did she ever? Charlotte was always in control, calm, and collected. If she wasn’t , then she at the very least knew how to put up the facade that she was. Sutton had improved on this in the last thirteen years, but she would never be a professional at it, the way Charlotte was.

This uneasiness, that was all Sutton. Sutton, who wanted Charlotte, lusted for her so strongly she made these clearly rash decisions and bad choices that held big ramifications for them both.

She blinked widely, coming back to herself at Charlotte’s expectant stare.

“No. No, thank you.” Even though a tea might be soothing, she shook her head. “I don’t intend to keep you from whatever you were doing for very long, I swear. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Charlotte accepted her refusal with an easy shrug before she added a splash of cream to her coffee. “You’re not in the way, Sutton. I have a relatively easy afternoon ahead of me; I was just packing for a trip.”

“Right. To New York?” she asked, though she already knew. It wasn’t like she had Charlotte’s schedule memorized ; that would be difficult, given how busy it was.

But Charlotte had shared her schedule with Sutton, and Sutton, obviously, had peeked at it. She knew their typical twice-weekly meetings for the following two weeks weren’t going to happen because Charlotte had business in the city.

The smile that played on Charlotte’s lips was pleased. “Yes. I’ll be in Manhattan for a little over a week.” She sipped her coffee before gesturing around them. “Would you prefer to sit in here or out in the sunroom?”

Even though the sunroom did sound very nice and Sutton, honestly, would like to see it, she found comfort in this kitchen. “Here’s good.”

Charlotte nodded, pulling out a stool from the island, and Sutton did the same, sitting across from her.

She re-tangled her fingers in her lap, gripping tightly as the words bubbled up in her throat.

“First of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes closed to push through the nerves and embarrassment. “I should never have done what I did yesterday. It was so wrong—and not just because it was unprofessional, but because I didn’t even ask or—or anything. I just—” She broke off, swallowing thickly at the thought.

“It’s all right,” Charlotte broke in, watching Sutton carefully, her soft, accepting, honey eyes trained on her face.

“It’s not all right,” she insisted, shaking her head as she switched from clasping her hands together to tightly gripping her knees, giving her something to ground herself on. “That’s not who I am.” The words fluttered out, a little desperate. It wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t. “I didn’t go there for that, I promise you, and I don’t…” She shook her head tightly, voice strained. “It was so disrespectful, to come into your office, without even an appointment or a phone call to let you know, and on top of that , I— We?—”

She cut herself off, hating how deeply she felt herself blush, but… she was right to say it. She had to have Charlotte understand.

“Sutton.” Charlotte’s voice was both gentle and amused, though, and not at all reflective of Sutton’s apology or the emotions racking her. She waited to speak again until Sutton took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to really look at her.

There was a small smile playing on her lips as she held Sutton’s gaze. “It is all right. Did it appear in any way that I didn’t…” She coughed slightly, before sipping her coffee, a thoughtful look on her face. “How should I say it… respond in kind, to you?”

Sutton’s breath left her on a sharp exhale as she pictured it so, so clearly. The way Charlotte had reacted to her touch, to her kiss, to everything. To how wet she was for Sutton, right away. The heat that slid through her drove her insane . She was here to apologize for that, not feel it all over again!

Then again, she wondered if she would ever have a time in physical proximity to Charlotte where she didn’t feel this zing between them. Honestly, she didn’t think that was possible.

She blew out a shaky breath before admitting, “No, you seemed to… respond.” For lack of a better word. For lack of Sutton trying very much to not think about the way Charlotte had responded.

“Exactly. And if I had told you to stop, at any point, would you have?” Charlotte questioned, lacing her fingers around her coffee cup, staring intently at Sutton as if she genuinely expected an answer.

Sutton, of course, gave it to her. Sitting up straight, appalled at even the insinuation, she nodded vigorously. “Of course! If you said the word, I swear, I would have stopped.”

Charlotte gave Sutton the slightest of grins. Victorious, almost. “Exactly. And I know you would have.”

The validation did calm Sutton somewhat. Maybe more than somewhat. The ease which Charlotte had seemed to be rubbing off on Sutton. Because of that, though, she stared, baffled, at Charlotte. “How are you so calm? After what happened? After…” She gestured widely into the air, as if trying to encompass everything that had passed between them.

“The truth is, Charlotte, I—I don’t know what to do with you. With us,” she confessed, the raw truth of it burning in her throat. The words that she hadn’t vocalized and had tried to push down and not think about for the last six weeks refused to stay hidden in the back of her mind anymore.

It was like the snap of their physical draw to one another had released this, too.

“I thought I did,” Sutton equivocated, “or I had convinced myself that I did. I thought, ‘It’s been thirteen years . There shouldn’t be anything between us that has lingered in any way, right?’ So I thought—or I made myself think?—that it could just be simple and straightforward. That we could just exist like any other two people without any history between them. I thought it should be easy to be professional with you, and that’s how I was trying to, to be.”

Her heart beat a little too fast as the words rushed out of her, stomach twisting even as a weight melting off of her, now that her inner thoughts had finally been spoken.

“But it’s not?” Charlotte quietly prompted. Her eyes were bright as she watched Sutton, unreadable, from across the counter.

Sutton couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously not! Every time we meet, it’s hard to pretend that I don’t know anything about you. That I don’t know who Dean is, and the impact of his friendship in your career. Or that,” she paused, her breath catching in her throat, as she pushed herself to continue, “That when you tell me all of the stories about your life that I’ve never heard, I have to act like there wasn’t a time in our lives that I was desperate to hear all of this, before.” Because they hadn’t had times where they’d lain in bed for hours, just sharing all of their stories.

God, how Sutton used to wish they would. Even though they did relax together, they did cuddle, they did share , it had never quite progressed into the bigger intimacies of a real relationship.

“And somehow, I have been trying to process it from an angle like I don’t know you? Like you are Senator Thompson, and I don’t know how you were going to take your coffee when you made it just now, and—it’s so difficult.” She swallowed hard, blushing. “And then, with what happened yesterday…” She bit at her cheek at the rush of heat mixing with the memory.

“There is clearly a physical attraction between us,” she managed to get out, her voice as even as she could make it. “There always has been, and I guess time hasn’t dampened it all that much.”

“I think you’re correct about that,” Charlotte murmured, and yeah, even the tone of that voice sent the shiver along Sutton’s spine.

She pushed through it, sitting up straight and putting her hands out flat on the counter in front of her.

“I guess that’s the thing, though. That part of us was never difficult. And maybe that’s why it was so easy to, um, give in to it.” She searched Charlotte’s gaze for validation, her heart beating a little faster in her chest.

Because she’d put a lot of thought into this, and that was the conclusion she’d come to last night.

Charlotte nodded slowly, clearly turning Sutton’s words over in her mind. “I can see that. It was very easy to give in to this chemistry we have, you’re right.”

“And we can’t ,” she stressed. “That would complicate everything and make it all so messy. And the truth is, after thinking about this?” She gestured between them. “All night, I’ve been thinking about where to go from here…”

She paused, taking a deep breath, and it was of all times in this entire conversation that now , Charlotte sat up at attention, gaze intent.

“Yes? Are you thinking about not working with me anymore?” Charlotte cut right to the chase.

“Maybe I should.” Sutton shook her head. Because maybe she should . That was the easiest way out of all of this. “But I don’t want that.”

“You don’t,” Charlotte echoed, surprising flashing across her face.

“I don’t,” she confirmed, a disbelieving laugh leaving her, even as the confounding feeling weaved through her. “I thought that would be the best way, logically, but the truth is, I like having you in my life,” she admitted softly. “I look forward to talking to you.”

It was damningly true. Even when she was determined to keep things professional, even when she tried to keep a distant mindset.

There was a spot in her life that Charlotte just filled. She couldn’t describe it, and it wasn’t necessarily in only the physical sense. It was simply Charlotte . There was a magnetism she had, that she had always had, that gave this sense of excitement just being in her atmosphere.

Sutton tucked her hair behind her ears. “I think being friends with you, true friends, can work? Maybe? If you still think so, even after yesterday?”

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. She sipped her coffee again before she slowly set it down. Sutton waited on pins and needles. Yes, they’d discussed this before. The idea of being friendly, even earlier this week.

But Sutton hadn’t been in the right frame of mind for that. She had still been trying to deny their spark, deny everything about them that made them who they were.

“And I know we sort of agreed to this, earlier this week. To be… friend-like. I know,” she rushed to say. “But after yesterday, I think we just need to have it all on the table. Our attraction is out there and acknowledged, and I don’t think we can just reach back in time and grab the friendship we had been developing before we became… more,” she settled on, rolling her eyes at herself, worrying again at her lip as she tried to figure out what the hell she was trying to say. “It’s just, maybe we can skip past where we’ve been. Maybe we can be done with all of that—the stiltedness or acting like we aren’t comfortable around each other or anything like that.”

“So, to be clear, you don’t think we should keep things friend ly . And you are not quitting. And you would, in fact, like to jump into a true friendship. Because you are , in fact, comfortable around me,” Charlotte surmised, her recap sounding a lot more concise and simple than Sutton’s ramble had.

She drummed her fingers once on the countertop before nodding sharply. “I, uh, yes. That’s what I’m saying. If that’s something you want?”

A whole other set of nerves set in as she waited for Charlotte’s response.

Charlotte sat up straight with a smile Sutton wasn’t entirely familiar with. It seemed satisfied, almost? Just verging on giddy?

She didn’t quite understand, and it sent both a rush of pleasure through her at having caused it, along with a little caution that skittered down her spine. Why did Charlotte react in this way?

Charlotte shook her head slightly, the smile toning down a bit. “Sutton Spencer, I would be delighted to be your friend.”

Sutton slumped against the counter in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Did you think I would disagree? I don’t think I have been the one who has been against us being friends,” Charlotte teased, a lightness in her eyes that… honestly? It was nice to see and just be able to relax into it.

Somehow, despite their uneasy footing, despite Sutton’s attraction getting the best of her yesterday, this… felt easy?

“You’re right.” She rolled her eyes back. “But it’s only because you throw me off-balance! I don’t know anyone like you, and I’ve definitely never experienced our relationship before. So, excuse me for having an adjustment period.”

“I can excuse it,” Charlotte allowed after pretending to deliberate for a moment.

“Thank god,” she deadpanned and let herself enjoy Charlotte’s quiet laugh for a few seconds before she cleared her throat. “Should I let you get back to packing?” She gestured vaguely behind her.

Charlotte frowned. “I mean, if you have something to do, then sure. But if you’d like to stay, my flight isn’t until ten tomorrow morning, and I have nothing on my agenda today, for once.”

Sutton sat with the invitation for a second, debating.

On one hand, yesterday she had fucked Charlotte, without warning and unprompted, because she’d been overcome with how much she just wanted her, and something told her to be cautious of spending time alone with her now. Maybe it was a good thing Charlotte was leaving for two weeks; they could get their bearings and start on this new foot in a couple of weeks.

On the other hand, she felt at ease with Charlotte for the first time in over a decade. And she loved this kitchen. “I don’t really have anything else to do for the evening either,” Sutton decided. “I think I would love some tea.”

That same smile from moments ago slid over Charlotte’s face, bright and blinding. “Perfect. And how do you feel about Indian for dinner?”

Sutton blinked in surprise. It had been such an easy suggestion from Charlotte, she hardly followed, but, “I—sure, yeah, that sounds good.”

Charlotte reached out and squeezed her hand. Just once, and the contact was warm. Comforting. It only left Sutton feeling a little bit warmer, like her hand only tingled a little bit… manageably so.

It made her feel like acknowledging this was the right idea.

Wait—

“Um, just to check, before we… you’re not dating anyone right now, are you?” she blurted out, the thought from earlier, about how she didn’t truly know anything about Charlotte’s romantic life, returning unbidden. She needed to make sure she hadn’t stepped in the middle of anything with her actions yesterday.

Charlotte’s eyebrows winged up. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean—you never have mentioned, and I know you’re obviously publicly out, so maybe you do, but we just weren’t in a place to discuss it?” God, she could feel her cheeks burning, even as she grimaced at herself, but she couldn’t help it.

Charlotte laughed quietly, giving Sutton a fond look. “No, I am not dating anyone at the moment.”

That was the biggest relief. Maybe too big, but Sutton was not giving that too much thought at the moment. No.

“Are you ?” Charlotte turned on her.

“You think I would—with you—when I was dating someone?!”

“Perhaps you found me simply too alluring to control yourself, Sutton. How am I to know?” Charlotte clearly teased, and Sutton?

Well, she almost wanted to continue to be offended, but all she could do was laugh.

Yes. This was the right decision.