It took Sutton a moment to work out what the question meant. It was so weird for her to have someone, anyone, in her life who didn’t know her daughter, but it only served as a reminder that Charlotte was not actually in her life. “My daughter.”
“You have a daughter.” The quiet, reflective tone Charlotte took on was markedly different than the one she’d had since Sutton had walked into the office.
The Charlotte up until this moment had been every ounce the charming politician. This Charlotte was taken a bit off-kilter.
Sutton smiled at that.
“Yes. She’s six.” Out of habit, she tapped her phone to show the picture of Lucy blowing bubbles on the lock screen.
“Oh. She’s beautiful,” Charlotte said, her voice quieter than before.
“She is,” Sutton agreed, a warmth spreading through her. It was confusing, though, to speak of her daughter while facing the woman she’d once fantasized so strongly about having a future with.
It was embarrassing, really, to look back on her life and know that even though her affair with Charlotte had been so brief, the breadth of the love she’d had for her, the want, the adoration, the daydreams toward a future—well, they had been stronger than she’d felt for anyone before or after.
That knocked some sense into her. No. She shouldnotbe getting drawn back into this. Into Charlotte.
No.
“And”—she refocused her attention—“she’s a handful at times. So, as you can imagine, I don’t have much free time as it is. I definitely don’t have time to write your biography, as illustrious as it will likely be.” Sutton truly meant that. “So if this meeting doesn’t have anything to do with the Zones or the Thompson Foundation, I think I should probably be going since we don’t really have any business to do with one another. I don’t want to waste any more of either of our time.” She pushed herself to stand. “If you need anything in the future from me, though I can’t imagine you will, I would ask that you call me yourself and not have me summoned by your assistant.”
Okay. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely over everything that had happened between them in spite of the time that had passed. She’d always thought she was, and her own words shocked her as she felt herself blush.
Charlotte, similarly, appeared surprised. “I had meetings nonstop all morning, and the need to find an author is becoming fairly pressing; if we don’t really have any business with one another, then why would it bother you that I didn’t call you personally?”
Despite her argumentative words, Charlotte seemed entirely too amused. Sutton could see why she made such a great senator.
“I—you—you had time to research me this morning but not enough to call me yourself? As if we’d never met?” Sutton clapped her hands over her burning cheeks, blowing out a deep breath. Of course, Charlotte would still have this power over her, even when Sutton had grown more confident and poised in so many other avenues in her life. “I’m sorry. Honestly, it doesn’t truly matter. Because I can’t do it.”
With that, she nodded to herself and turned to leave, feeling like an idiot for even coming to this… this summons. Like a fool, who hadn’t moved on with her life in over a decade, though shehad. She saw Charlotteonce, and…
“Sutton—” Charlotte was right behind her in a beat, her hand reaching out and falling to Sutton’s wrist.
The touch was tentative, so unlike the Charlotte she recalled, and she stilled completely.
“Why?” she asked, still facing the door.
“Why what?” Charlotte’s voice was only a murmur; her fingers were so delicate, yet they were leaving a brand on her skin.
“Why me? Why this?” She finally turned around, gesturing between the two of them. “Why?”
“Ah. Well, I was reminded that I needed to make a final choice on an author just last night, right before I saw you, and it all seemed to align.”
Sutton shook her head. “No. I don’t care if it’s been thirteen years or thirty years or three days since the last time I saw you, Charlotte. You aren’t going to make a decision like someonewriting your biographyon a coincidental whim.Why? Why am I here today?”
Charlotte wouldneveract on a flight of fancy. But Sutton also knew there was no way Charlotte had considered her for this project before they’d reconnected at the event. So,why?
Those big, brown eyes searched Sutton’s before Charlotte whispered, “I want my biography done well, but anyone who is discussed as an option for me is a good writer. I want it written by someone who knows me.”
“I don’t know you,” Sutton whispered back, unable to look away from that arresting gaze or put some distance between them, even though sheknewshe should.
“You do,” Charlotte insisted, frowning deeply at her.
“I don’t,” she disagreed. She’d been so wrong before, and it had taken so much work to get over it, so many months, that no matter how long it had been, she couldn’t forget it. “I thought I did, a long time ago, but I was wrong about so much back then, and that was before all of… this.” She gestured to the large office around them. “Before you had assistants to make your phone calls for you, before your office had a view out on Capitol Hill, before people were seeking you out for your biography!”
“And maybe you could consider that’s exactly why I want you.” Charlotte’s hold on her wrist tightened. It wasn’t hard, not hurting, butthere. A grip.
Sutton honestly wanted a moment to hold her head in her hands and just wrap her mind around the last twenty-four hours. Instead, she only stared.
