Maybe it was because Charlotte might not have known Layla as a person, but in hearing descriptions of her and in this meeting with her, she felt she knew enough about her to finally read what was happening. Charlotte had made a career out of spending time with ambitious people who climbed ladders, making choices and then looking back at them. Maybe it was because Charlotte herself had been in those shoes with Sutton at one point. But it dawned on her in this moment that Layla, despite having left Sutton and remarried soon after to a woman who, according to Sutton, was a good match for her, seemed decidedly unhappy and jealous at the prospect of Charlotte wanting to be with her ex-wife.
It was likely all of this rolled up, bundling together, that pushed her to say, “Actually, no. I knew Sutton years ago. When she was in grad school. I knew even then that she was very talented, and when I had such an important book to be written, she was the only person I could think of to do it justice.”
She wanted Layla to know the value she saw in Sutton. She wanted her to know that she had given up the opportunity to be with the perfect partner and that Sutton had options. Successful, attractive options, who valued her for the person she was.
Layla studied her, face pinched, as she clearly worked through something in her mind. She then pushed out a short, humorless laugh. “It wasyou.”
Charlotte arched an eyebrow as she adjusted her own stance. “Perhaps it was,” she answered, despite having no fucking clue what she was referring to.
Layla shook her head, biting at her cheek. When she looked at Charlotte again, she was appraising her, like she was seeing her through new eyes. Like she was seeing or thinking something unpleasant. “You were the woman she was with. Before we got together.”
Charlotte’s stomach flipped at the recognition, but she didn’t say anything. In her experience, if you gave people more room to speak when they clearly had something to say, they would say it unprompted.
It worked.
“She would never tell mewhoit was, just that she’d had an extremely intense relationship with someone that ended poorly. That took her a long time to recover from, and—” She cut herself off, lifted her hand, and rubbed at her temples before blowing out a low breath. “It was withyou.”
An extremely intense relationship that had taken a long time to recover from… That sounded fairly accurate, even though Charlotte would have never been able to put it into words. Accurate or not, it didn’t reflect just how much she’d felt. How much they’d had.
“And now, you want to come back, and?—”
“Someone is officially ready.” Sutton’s voice came from down the hall to their right, cutting through the moment, and they both turned to look in her direction. “She’s just going to the bathroom.”
Charlotte turned to see Sutton fussing with Lucy’s backpack as she emerged from the hall, the guitar she’d helped procure tucked safely under her other arm.
“Everything is…” Sutton’s voice fell away as she looked up to see Charlotte and Layla standing in the middle of their face-off. She blinked widely at Charlotte, and then her eyebrows pulled together in confusion even as she smiled. “Charlotte. I didn’t know you were here?”
She tracked her gaze to Layla, who was staring intently at Sutton, before looking back at Charlotte, a flush stealing up her neck and spilling over her cheeks.
Regardless ofwhateverhad been happening moments ago, she felt the rush of warmth that always hit her when she first saw Sutton. “Hi, darling.”
Sutton’s flush got deeper, but her smile grew. “Hi.”
“Charlotte!” Lucy’s shout broke through the moment, her little footsteps running down the hall. Her body slammed into Charlotte’s legs with an intensity Charlotte had finally gotten used to as she felt little but surprisingly strong arms wrap around her thighs in a hug.
That warmth only intensified as she dropped her hand down to softly land on Lucy’s head. “And hello to you, too.”
“Are you spending Christmas Eve with my mama?!” Lucy’s own question seemed to wind her up as she turned to face Layla, then Sutton. Her eyes were like saucers, pleading in their own right. “But I want to stay and play with Charlotte too!”
Layla smiled down at Lucy, though Charlotte could see that the smile was strained. “You and I have to go, hon. We’re already running late.”
Charlotte could see the firm way Lucy set her expression and the storm behind her eyes even before she said anything.
Before she could, though, Layla turned her attention to Sutton. “But I need a minute before we go.” She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the kitchen, very unsubtly.
Sutton sighed before she gestured for Layla to lead the way, then turned to Charlotte. “I’ll be right back.” She looked down at Lucy. “And no making a run for it again. If you do, you won’t be able to give Charlotte the Christmas gift you made for her.”
Lucy acknowledged her with a defeated nod. “Fiiiine.”
As soon as Layla and Sutton left the room, taking the tension with them, Lucy tilted her head back to look up at Charlotte. “It’s notfair.”
Despite wanting desperately to know whatever was happening in the kitchen, Charlotte focused her attention on Lucy. Admittedly, it wasn’t hard, with her pout and the beseeching look in her big, blue eyes. “What isn’t fair?”
Lucy heaved a sigh before she justdropped, sitting on the floor next to her backpack and plopping her face into her hands. “That I have to leave on Christmas Eve. I don’t want to go.”
It was almost comical, but Charlotte could appreciate the dramatics of it all. Plus, the abjectsadnessin her tone grabbed Charlotte by the collar. She could feel it tugging at her as she kneeled next to Lucy. “Do you not have a good time with your mother on Christmas?”
Lucy shrugged, her little face tilting to look directly at Charlotte. “I guess,” she admitted, shrugging again. “But I always stay with my mama on Christmas Eve. Always! They both say that Santa will still find me at Mom’s and Arianne’s, sothat’sfine. But I don’t know why I can’t stay with Mama and then to go to Mom’s the day after, like always.”
