Charlotte was able to draw the line at looking intoLayla West. She’d only learned what she knew about her from Sutton’s posts.
That night at the fundraiser, she’d excused herself outside in the still-chilly air, her hands shaking slightly as she’d pulled out her phone and looked at Sutton’s Instagram page.
The first post felt like a stab to the heart.
Sutton’s beautiful, beaming face. Her blue eyes shined into the camera, and the large, diamond engagement ring glinted from her finger. Engagement photos.August 22ndwas written under them, and Charlotte truly might have thrown up had dinner already been served.
It shouldn’t have shocked her, shouldn’t have stolen the breath painfully from her lungs. She’d always known Sutton was the kind of person who wanted to get married. To settle down and build a life with her partner. It was why Charlotte and Sutton were never meant to be more than they were to one another.
Butgod, it fucking hurt.
Even though Charlotte hadn’t looked at those photos again, they were so vividly emblazoned into her mind’s eye. The last few months, weeks, and days leading up to Sutton’s wedding had felt like Charlotte was living with a ticking time bomb. Following her to work, then back home, crouching in the corner of her bedroom at night.
In her wildest fantasies, she imagined showing up today at whatever beautiful venue Sutton had inevitably chosen and telling Sutton that she’d never really gotten over her. That when Charlotte closed her eyes and thought about when she’d been the happiest in her personal life, it had been with Sutton, and that she couldn’t fathom that ever changing.
But then Charlotte snapped herself back to reality. That wasn’t her life; it wasn’t the path she’d chosen for herself. Sutton had—clearly—moved on and found someone who wanted the same things.
And yet…
As Charlotte poured herself another glass of wine, two hours after coming home from work—Oops! That was the whole bottle!—she found herself living in those thoughts.
The fantasy of it made her feel good. Made her feel like she hadn’t made a mistake. While she was drunk like this, she could be the most honest with herself by admitting that she did regret it. She regretted everything, especially the way she could still see Sutton crying as she walked out of her life.
Charlotte inhaled sharply, only to realize she was crying herself when she blinked and felt the tears falling down her cheeks.
Unable to stop herself, she blearily reached for her phone with the hand not holding her wineglass and searched for Sutton’s name with slightly clumsy fingers.
Sutton Spencer-Westpopped up instead.
The glass slipped from Charlotte’s hand and shattered, the glass and dark red wine spreading over her otherwise pristine kitchen floor, but Charlotte couldn’t care less.
She pressed her now-free hand over her mouth, stifling any of the ugly, heartbroken sounds that wanted to escape.
“No, no, no,” she whispered against her palm before she tapped on Sutton’s name and pulled up her page.
Right there was a picture of Sutton in her wedding dress, luminous and radiant, clutching the hand of her newwifeas they walked down the aisle.
Charlotte closed her eyes tightly, hiccuping as she tried desperately to stop crying, but that only served to make her cry harder.
What did she fucking expect?
She’d broken Sutton’s heart four years ago, and Sutton Spencer wasn’t a woman who would be on the market for long. She was someone who wanted and deserved to be loved and cherished, and Charlotte had been unable to do that. Now she wasmarried, and Charlotte…
Charlotte had to let go.
She had to really, truly, finally let go of these ridiculous, baseless dreams that she and Sutton would somehow find their ways back to one another.
Because Sutton was happy, and Charlotte didn’t deserve her.
No, wait?—
Because Sutton was happy, and Charlotte was, too, her drunk mind told her.
Or, she could be.
Her heartached—god, it ached—as she stared down at Sutton’s picture.
Charlotte knew what she needed to do. She knew it was finally time.
