“Well, Lucy and I are going to get up early and get pedicures together. And then we’re going to bake cookies for her to bring to Layla’s for Santa. Then we’ll open gifts together. Layla is getting off of her shift at two and is going to be picking Luce up by three.” Sutton blew out a breath, the sadness in the sound alone palpable for Charlotte over the phone. “And then I’ll pick her up December 27.”
“Are you going to go to Regan and Emma’s Christmas Eve party?” Charlotte asked, detesting that tone in Sutton’s voice.
She felt it urgently, settling in her own chest. A feeling she’d never really experienced, this—thisneedto make something better. To do anything she could to improve this situation for Sutton.
“I don’t think so,” Sutton eventually answered. “Maybe I should, just to get out of the house or try to take my mind off things. But I don’t reallywantto be around people when I know I’m not really going to be feeling the holiday spirit. I’m going to go over for Christmas dinner, but I think I’ll just spend tomorrow evening at home. Watch a few movies, have an early night. Maybe fall asleep in the living room with the tree all lit up.”
No. Charlotte found in that very moment that she couldn’t abide by that. The idea of Sutton sitting at home at any point during the holidays, feeling low and lonely, devastated her.
She’d spared a look at the gift she had neatly wrapped for Sutton, which was sitting on her bedside table. She’d wrapped it a few weeks ago, but she hadn’t yet made the decision of when to give it to her.
In all honesty, it made her a little nervous, this plan of hers. Showing up at Sutton’s on Christmas Eve, knowing that Sutton had already turned down the invitation to go to her best friends’ party in favor of being alone. A small worry that she would be unwelcome.
But even if that was the case, she would just give Sutton her gift and leave. No harm done.
Because, even more than that bit of nerves, there was this need to be there for Sutton. To be someone who showed up for her even when she didn’t ask. To be the person Sutton could depend on.
That shewantedto depend on.
As her car parked in front of Sutton’s home, Charlotte took a deep breath to settle herself. Her nerves and excitement were born of surprising Sutton on Christmas Eve. Born of the possibility of being with Sutton on a holiday that meant so much to her.
She hadn’t gotten that before.
No, when they’d done this before, she’d been scared. Terrified, really, of the feelings that had popped up right before Christmas. Terrified enough to pull away from Sutton, to have been grateful that she was going home to see her parents so that she could get a little bit of distance.
Stupid. That’s what she’d been.
And while Charlotte Thompson could accept being many things—not all of them positive either—she could not and would not accept being that level ofstupidagain.
With that in mind, she grabbed her tote and turned to Autumn. “I hope you have a very lovely holiday, Autumn.”
Autumn studied the outside of Sutton’s home before she turned to look at Charlotte. There was clearly a litany of thoughts running through her head, but she just gave Charlotte a smile, a genuinely warm one, not one of her typical work ones. “You, too, Senator.”
Charlotte aimed a look at her as she opened the door, and Autumn let out an exasperated breath as she corrected herself: “Charlotte.”
There it was. “Wonderful. Enjoy some time off.”
With that, she stepped out of the car and swung the door closed behind her.
The gift she had for Sutton was extremely light, but it felt significant in her bag. It was the only thing in there besides a couple of toiletries and a change of clothes.
She knocked on the door, butterflies flitting through her, and she was justreadyto see Sutton. Even though it had barely been two days since the last time they’d seen each other, she craved it.
The door swung open, and Charlotte was already, automatically, smiling.
Until she found herself face to face not with Sutton at all, but with a woman she’d never met before. She looked familiar, though, and Charlotte placed her in a split second as they studied each other in a few seconds of silence.
Pretty face with delicate features; wavy, honey-blonde hair; sharp green eyes; curvy build—she was featured in one specific photo in Sutton’s living room. This was Sutton’s ex-wife.
The one who’d cheated on her.
The one who was currently staring at Charlotte with clear surprise. “Senator Thompson?”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “Yes. Hello.”
She—Layla—smiled then, brightly and objectively, and Charlotte could clock that she was attractive. But there was such a sour taste in the back of her mouth knowing how this woman had treated Sutton that Charlotte could hardly muster her own smile back.
Shedid, given years of training from mingling with the worst politicians the country had to offer. But even then, those smiles were always false niceties. This felt significantly more personal, and she was certain her smile was frosty with it.