Autumn tossed her hands in the air, gesturing to the car behind her. “I came here thinking you’d be on your death bed! That I needed to have Hamish ready to bring us to the hospital.” She narrowed her eyes, running a clinical look over Charlotte again. “Do you? Are you ready? Have you taken your temperature?”
A disbelieving laugh worked its way out of Charlotte’s throat as she shook her head. “Autumn, I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t need to.”
Instead of alleviating Autumn’s concerns, though, it seemed her words had a perplexingly opposite effect. Her assistant’s eyes grew large, her jaw snapping shut as her hand clenched the handles of the bag she was holding.
“Oh, god,” she whispered. “You got terrible health news over the break. You’ve been strangely out of communication for the last few days; even on our days off, you usually have non-urgent messages you send. And you didn’t! Not a single one.” She lifted a hand, roughly drawing it through her hair as she shook her head. “It’s—it’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure out a plan of attack?—”
Charlotte felt like she had whiplash from the sharp turn this had taken. “Autumn! I did not get terrible health news. I appreciate your spring into action, though, if that had been the case.”
Autumn blinked at her blankly then, for several seconds. “I’m sorry, Senat—Charlotte. I don’t understand.”
Charlotte pursed her lips before she took a step back and opened her door. “Care for a cup of coffee?”
Autumn’s eyebrows lifted even higher on her forehead. “Um, sure. As long as I don’t have to be at the office, I suppose?”
Charlotte nodded her acquiescence, letting Autumn walk into her foyer as she shut the door behind her. Both Autumn and Maya had been to her home handfuls of times in the last year, though usually their visits were brief, to drop something off or pick something up, in an off hour.
Still, it was unusual. Charlotte knew that. But she also knew that today was a particularly unusual day.
“If you wouldn’t mind letting Hamish know that he doesn’t need to be on call for a hospital visit?” she asked, leading the way into the kitchen.
Autumn nodded, already firing off the message.
“Appreciated,” Charlotte murmured as she walked toward the coffee machine Dean had given her years ago as a housewarming gift.
“Yeah. Sure. No problem,” Autumn said, and Charlotte could feel Autumn’s concerned stare as she poured her a mug. “I’m sorry, but I’m just—I’m so confused.”
Charlotte arched her eyebrows in question, silently asking her to elaborate.
It seemed Autumn didn’t need much more prompting than that as she tossed her hands into the air, obviously exasperated. “Younevercall in sick! Even when you actuallyaresick, you usually come into the office. Whenever you have a cold, you wear a mask into the office and cancel all in-person appointments. That time you had the flu really badly, you still worked from home and were available for communication like a normal day.”
As Charlotte slid Autumn her coffee, she nodded at her words, affirming them. Very true.
Autumn placed the bag she’d brought with her on the counter, gesturing at it. “I have, I don’t know, the entire cold and flu aisle from CVS in there. A medication for every symptom I could imagine. Because… I don’t know what’s going on.”
There was a desperation in her voice that Charlotte sympathized with. She really, truly did.
So she admitted, “I don’t really know either.”
Autumn stared at her, face scrunched up in wordless confusion.
She’d spent more time with Autumn than anyone else in the last couple of years. Not discussing her personal life with Autumn, admittedly, had been simple, given her lack of one. But even when she went on the odd date or when her grandmother had died, she’d maintained a very professional line with her assistant.
Today, though… Charlotte stared back at Autumn and felt very strongly like she saw herself in the younger woman. Autumn was in her late twenties, was sharp and driven. Queer. Despite their lack of personal life sharing, she liked Autumn and respected her.
And, for better or worse, no matter how pathetic it was, there was no one on the planet that knew Charlotte’s life the way Autumn did.
That realization was jarring, but Charlotte took it in stride. As much as she could, anyway, as she nodded to herself.
“Can I tell you the truth, Autumn? Perhaps take today as a page out of our typical book? Because to tell youwhat’s going on, I’m afraid I’m going to have to be more personal than professional,” she admitted, the words feeling so foreign on her tongue. “But I believe that I can trust you. In fact, Idotrust you.”
She couldn’t work so closely with someone and not trust them—their opinions, their work ethic, their discretion.
Autumn stood several feet away, seeming to think over her words before she slowly nodded. “Yes. I—youcantrust me. Professionally or personally. Like… a friend?”
Charlotte didnotwant to consider what it meant that her personal assistant was, actually, her closest friend, but it would be disingenuous to say that wasn’t the truth.
“Like a friend,” she confirmed, leaning against the island in her kitchen as she took a breath. She was about to share her personal life details, her sacred details, everything Sutton-related, with Autumn.