Before she could get drawn into the conversation, though, she stepped up to Charlotte and lightly nudged at her, only taking a moment to be amazed by the fact that even though Charlotte had likely been awake, dressed, and prepared for the day for twelve hours, she still smelled so fresh.
Lightly shaking her head, she reached out to still Charlotte’s hands. “You don’t need to do the dishes. I can just get them done later.”
Charlotte’s hand—warm and soft and wet from the water—gently pushed Sutton’s away. “You fed me the best holiday meal I’ve ever had; I can wash some dishes.”
“Are you sure you know how?” she joked, arching an eyebrow, then laughing at the offended look on Charlotte’s face.
“Youact like you weren’t raised by a bestselling author and a career politician, Sutton Spencer,” Charlotte reprimanded her, the deeply contemplative look fading into something much lighter as she flicked water at Sutton.
Sutton flinched, cutting off her laughter. “Well, I think my parents did a lot more to try to keep me humble,” she pointed out. “I went to public school, did chores, got grounded.”
“Younever got grounded,” Charlotte stated with authority despite having never discussed this topic before.
Sutton found herself laughing as she nodded. “Fine, yes, but my brothers and Alex did, and so did Regan.”
“Of course your mother would also ground Regan.” Charlotte laughed.
She liked this. This rhythm, the beat they’d developed years ago and had now managed to return to. And she enjoyed finding it at the end of such a truly interesting day.
“Fine, though, throw your doting home life back in my face,” Charlotte scoffed at her, but there was a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Sutton had found that Charlotte enjoyed the little jokes and mentions of life like this as they worked on the story of her life together. She didn’t often make commentary on Charlotte’s childhood with her parents, though, as Charlotte herself didn’t often talk about it.
In fact, Sutton had learned almost everystoryabout Charlotte’s childhood—beyond cursory facts about her parents and occasional anecdotes about her and her brothers—only because of the biography. It hadn’t been something Charlotte discussed in detail in their history together, and Sutton, ridiculously, hadn’t ever asked. Not that she’d felt it was her place to press about Charlotte’s parents, anyway.
She did still feelit, if she was honest.Itbeing the curiosity she’d had back then, wondering all about Charlotte and what made her who she was.
But she was fairly certain that anyone who got to know Charlotte on any personal level would want to know those things.
“So, the guest room?” Charlotte prompted as she resumed washing the dishes, giving Sutton a sidelong look. “I just, as with the aforementioned doting childhood, imagine that your parents would like to spend as much time with you while they’re here as they possibly can.”
Sutton blinked back to the moment as she reached for a dishtowel to dry everything Charlotte washed. They stood shoulder to shoulder, and she could feel the comforting warmth of Charlotte’s body next to hers as she considered the words.
“They do,” she agreed. “And they usually do stay with us here when they come to visit. But given that it was a whole group coming, with Ethan and Alex and Chris, it just was easier to have them all staying in the same place. They’re only ten minutes away.”
Charlotte hummed in acknowledgement. “They clearly dote on Lucy.”
“Maybe too much,” Sutton agreed, smiling down at the serving dish she was drying.
Her parents did love to spoil Lucy, often citing it as long-distance grandparents’ rights. Sutton had a hard time arguing.
“It’s impossible for a grandparent to love their grandchild too much,” Charlotte said softly, rinsing the dish in her hands, slowly turning it under the faucet.
The thoughtful tone was back in her voice as she started to wash the final dish. Sutton studied Charlotte closely, her heart feeling suddenly very full. Achingly full, at the tenderness in Charlotte’s words.
It was the first Thanksgiving since Charlotte’s grandmother had died, Sutton only realized in that moment, and she felt like an utter fool. The thought wiped the smile from her mouth as she looked closely at Charlotte’s profile.
“Would you normally have spent today with your grandmother?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“She wasn’t one to be big on the holidays necessarily, but I would have joined her in the afternoon for tea and dessert.” Charlotte’s teeth bit into her bottom lip, against a fond smile. “Your mother would have hated it; full of politics talk. But it was nice for us.”
The affection in her voice was so endearing in a way that Charlotte typically wasn’t. Well, not outwardly, not with most people, though Sutton herself was a party to it more than most.
The thought made her own chest feel warm, and suddenly, though she’d been anxious and doubtful about what today would bring, Sutton felt so fuckinggladshe’d invited Charlotte. It didn’t matter that the invitation had only rolled off her lips because they’d been caught in amoment.
The thought of her sitting at her home, alone, doing work, while Sutton was having a nice day, surrounded by people who loved her, made her ache.
“I’m glad you came here today.” The words left her as a whisper, but she meant them with her whole heart.
