But then she remembered the last time she hadn’t answered a restricted number, which had turned out to be Lucy’s school calling, six months ago, from one of the teacher’s private lines, telling her Lucy had gotten sick.
They’d ended up calling Layla, which had resulted in a tense conversation between her ex-wife and herself regarding who Lucy’s main school contactshould be, even though Layla lived almost an hour away.
“Hello?” She picked up, balancing the phone between her jaw and shoulder as she started to gather her bag and head to the administrative wing of the English department’s building to begin her office hours.
“Is this Dr. Sutton Spencer of Georgetown University?”
“I don’t particularly like to be referred to as ‘doctor,’ but…” Sutton cut herself off from her usual spiel as she frowned in confusion, slowing her motions as she pulled the phone away from her ear and looked down as if it would give any explanation as to who in the world this was. “Um, yes. This is she. Um, who is this?”
“Great. This is Autumn Alton, Senator Thompson’s personal assistant. She’d like to have a meeting with you, at the earliest possible convenience. Today, if you’re available,” the matter-of-fact tone informed her.
The papers Sutton had collected fell from her free hand to the desk. “I—she wants to have a meeting with me? Why?”
Her stomach flip-flopped in a way Sutton hadn’t felt in a very long time. A mix of confusion and excitement and utter—what?
“She would like to discuss the matter with you directly,” Autumn sharply commented. “The senator is in back-to-back meetings the entire morning but will be available at one fifteen. Are you able to meet then?”
Sutton stood in her classroom, utterly frozen in that moment.
No, was on her mind, wanting to work itself from her lips. No, because… Today? A meeting on such short notice? She had to maintain her requisite office hours; she had to pick Lucy up by two thirty; she had errands to run.
No, because Charlotte didn’t have the right to… to demand her time after reconnecting for only a few moments last night. She didn’t have the right to demand her time at all after more than a decade has passed without a word. After she’d broken Sutton’s heart.
No, because—just, no!
Then again, what if it was about the Zones? About the Thompson Foundation or something related to last night? Sutton supposed that made the most sense.
Yes. Okay.
The thought calmed her; she nodded to herself. Thathadto be it.
“I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you the details.”
“Perfect,” she echoed faintly before hanging up. She dropped her arm down to her side, feeling the nerves work their way through her stomach.
Hardly a second went by before Sutton’s phone vibrated with a text from Autumn, which held Charlotte’s office’s information.
There was no backing out now.
Sutton hadto take a steadying breath before she opened the door she’d been granted access to by Charlotte’s secretary in the Hart Senate Office Building.
It was about the program, she reminded herself. Ithad to be. There was no other reason Charlotte would want a meeting with her.
Clearly that was the case; after all, Sutton had only warranted a phone call from herassistant. She was low on Charlotte Thompson’s totem pole now. It wasn’t like Charlotte wouldsummon herjust, what? To see her again?
That thought, as ridiculous as it felt, made her lower stomach tingle even as she rolled her eyes at herself.
There was no way Charlotte would do that. Especially not when they were what they were to one another now, which was to saynothing. Charlotte had proven long ago that she didn’t miss Sutton enough to contact her, and that had been in the middle of their… whatever they had been.
As she opened the door and took her first step in, squaring her shoulders, she froze again at the sight of Charlotte pushing herself up to stand from where she’d been perched on the edge of her desk.
Her light brown hair was down today, not in the simple but classic updo she’d worn last night. Instead, her loose curls hung past her shoulders, over the crisp, white button-up she’d clearly worn under her blazer, which was hung over her desk chair. The sleeves of her shirt were currently rolled up to her elbows.
God, but was Charlotte Thompson ever the most gorgeous woman in any room.
Her smile—that slightly crooked smile that was all-knowing and just this side of mischievous—grew as soon as they locked eyes. “Sutton, I’m so glad you could make it.”
