“Is this about the Zones?” she blurted out before cringing at herself.
Charlotte lifted her eyebrows, the only outward sign of confusion or surprise or—Sutton didn’t know. She didn’t know Charlotte anymore. But her grin grew, and Sutton did know that meant she felt amused by Sutton, as she often had in the past.
“The Zones?” Charlotte repeated as she walked closer.
With her every step, Sutton felt even more off-kilter.
Charlotte didn’t do—well, Sutton didn’t even really know what she was “worried” Charlotte might do. When she reached Sutton, she reached out and placed her hand over Sutton’s folded arms, establishing a quick, casual connection in that way that seemed so, so easy for her.
“I’m so glad you could make it. Let’s have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Tea?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow as she directed Sutton to the comfortable chairs at the cozy setup near the windows.
Sutton shook her head as she sat. “No, I’m fine.” Her nerves buzzed right back to life as Charlotte sat next to her, so close Sutton could smell her subtle perfume. She squeezed her hands together in her lap as she looked even closer at Charlotte.
The subtle signs of aging were there, in the lines at the corners of her eyes, her mouth. But mostly, Charlotte looked… evenbetter? The air she’d had around her in her twenties, the one that made you want to lean right into her and know everything she knew—because she kneweverything—it had only magnified with time, age, and experience.
In that moment, it didn’t matter that Sutton was thirty-eight, that she’d been married and divorced, that she’d had a child. In that moment, all shefeltwas exactly like the twenty-five-year-old who had fallen into Charlotte Thompson’s orbit.
Shaking her head at herself, she leaned back, bracing herself against the arm of her chair. “What am I doing here?”
Charlotte grinned. “Always cutting right to the chase.”
Sutton only waited.
Charlotte crossed her legs and smoothed her hands over her thighs to clasp over her knee. “I’d like you to write my biography.”
Sutton was so, so glad she hadn’t had any tea; she choked on the air in her throat as it was.
She blinked at Charlotte, mouth agape.
Charlotte maintained a small grin.
“What?” she managed to splutter out.
“My biography,” Charlotte repeated, shifting closer to Sutton. “It’s been in the works for a while now; I was approached during my senatorial campaign. I was far too busy at the time to consider it seriously, but after I won the seat…” She trailed off and pursed her lips, clearly thinking of other details. “Ultimately, it was decided that the biography would only enhance my publicity and name recognition before my presidential bid.”
The words seemed to spin above Sutton’s head in a confusing jumble before she shook her head to clear the thoughts. “Charlotte, I—why?” The question flattened everything else. “Whywould you ask me? I’ve… I’ve only written academic pieces.”
“Notonlyacademic pieces. You always wanted to write a novel,” Charlotte easily countered. “And I know you co-wrote one of the books in your mothers’ series. There was a collection of essays as well.”
Sutton only stared. Had—had Charlotte followed her career?
She sincerely hoped Charlotte hadn’t read her essay collection. She’d come up with the idea and written several of the first pieces when she’d been drunk. She would never have done it if she hadn’t been encouraged by Regan that night.
“I saw it all this morning when I did some research,” Charlotte continued, and Sutton didn’t know whether she was relieved or deflated. “We can work out quite a reasonable rate for your work and an interview schedule that works for both of us. I’m thinking perhaps Tuesday evenings and any time on Sunday that you might be available…”
As Charlotte kept speaking, Sutton could only stare.
What was she evendoinghere? Showing up as if they were old friends, as if they had anything to talk about? And of course Charlotte already had a plan at the ready. When did Charlotte Thompson not have a plan?
And when in the world would such a plan that involved Sutton actually work in her favor?
Sutton shook her head, cutting Charlotte off. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Charlotte broke off midsentence, actual surprise working over her features as she blinked for a few long seconds. “You… can’t?”
“I can’t. I have my job at Georgetown, my work with the Zones, Lucy?—”
“Lucy?” Charlotte asked, leaning forward.