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. Suttonknewthere 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 nothingobviousthat made her think it, though; Charlotte wasn’t giving any big signs or frowning or anything of the sort.
Unlike Sutton, Charlotte hadalwayslived 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 waslonely. No fucking way. It didn’t matter how long it had been since they’d been close; sheknewthat 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—heronlyfriends, 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 wouldloveto 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. Ofher. 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 shewasn’t, then she at the very least knew how to put up the façade 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.”
