“A bit,” she admitted.
Sutton chuckled, though her eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion. “I just don’t understandwhy, I suppose. First of all”—she held up a finger—“you’re Charlotte Thompson; you don’t get nervous. I’ve seen you take on other politicians in Congress; you never seem like you’re going to break a single sweat. Secondly…” She held up another finger, her gaze gentling. “It’s just me.”
“There is nojust you,” Charlotte corrected her immediately, incredulously. “Sutton Spencer, there is nothingjustabout you.”
This time, it was Sutton’s turn to blush, and with it returned some of Charlotte’s bravado. Thankfully, she still had that.
“I’ve never truly been on adate,” she finally said and felt the full reality of saying those words as a forty-year-old woman.
Sutton’s eyes widened, her shock blatant even before her mouth fell open. “But—I mean. You came out? And… I know you didn’t have anythingserious, but…”
“Even the women I’d talked to or”—she paused, clearing her throat—“engaged with… Even after coming out, I still wasn’t focused on doingthis.” She lifted her hand, gesturing around them.
After a few moments, Sutton spoke.
“I never thought this would happen.” Her voice was low, and there was a wondrous note in her tone. The combination grabbed Charlotte’s full attention.
“Even… back then?” Charlotte dared to ask.
She so frequently had avoided bringing up their past, not wanting to stir up any bad memories or feelings. She’d ask Sutton about the past in regards to the years in which they’d been out of contact but never abouttheirtime together.
She found she needed to know.
She remembered, so vividly, that Sutton had wanted to be with her. That she’d wanted to make it work, even if they couldn’t be public about it at the time. And she imagined that if Sutton had wanted to continue to be with her, had wanted to pursue a relationship with her, that Sutton had to have imagined what it would be like to go on a date with her.
She watched, hungry for the answer—maybetoohungry for it—as Sutton slowly shook her head.
“No,” she said, her face scrunched up as if she was trying to sift through her twenty-five-year-old self’s thoughts. “No, I never really thought about dates, specifically, I don’t think.”
“Then, whatdidyou think about?” Charlotte couldn’t help but press. “Because… you wanted this, then.”
She felt abnormally anxious after saying the words. Wondering, even though they were together—or, on the road to being together?—right now, if this was a taboo subject.
But Sutton softly stroked her thumb over Charlotte’s knuckles, the touch warm even as she shook her head.
“I don’t think I ever thought concretely about things like dates. Notofficial dates, like going out for dinner and drinks or whatever else. I think…” Sutton licked her lips, her cheeks lightly blushing. “I think I was so satisfied with what we had already. Even if they weren’t dates like this, we had our things. We got coffee and tea, we had movie nights, we made time for each other in the little moments. That was what I wanted more of.”
Merely hearing Sutton talk about those moments together made Charlotte ache for it.
“And when I was reminded of the reality that we weren’t together, I never mourned the idea of date nights either. I think, beyond the quiet, private moments, I wanted to do things like… attend events with you. Even if it wasn’t romantic, and the events weren’t about us in the least. Parties, like your grandmother’s gala.” Her blush deepened as her eyes slid up to meet Charlotte’s.
She felt her own pulse speed up, knowing they were both thinking of what they’d done at the French modernism exhibit.
To date, it was one of the most intense sexual encounters Charlotte had ever had.
Sutton cleared her throat, reaching up to swipe her hair behind her ear. “But I knew that those public events were out of reach then, so I tried not to think about those too much either. So, to reiterate—I never thought this would happen.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, the truth of it turning her words hoarse. She squeezed Sutton’s hand in hers.
“I don’t want you to be sorry.”
“I just wish I’drealizedwhat I’d had then.” How much Sutton had been willing to give to her, to them, and how much Charlotte herself had wanted to give it back.
“I don’t want us to live in the past, Charlotte,” Sutton murmured, her tone so imploring as she met and held Charlotte’s gaze. In Sutton’s eyes was a concrete certainty. “Because… this is happening.” Her lips tugged up into a beautiful smile, that wonder returning, as she looked around. “We finally figured it out, and what’s important is that we both want this, here and now.”
God, Charlotte loved her.
She loved Sutton so very much.
