“Sutton has a daughter?—”
“Lucy, who you have plied with a gift basket when she was sick, and video games, and that guitar for Christmas, and whom you have babysat. Yes, I know.”
“Correct,” she affirmed, picturing Lucy. The way she’d given Charlotte the tour on New Year’s Eve, her excitement at seeing Charlotte at the party. She couldn’t help but smile all over again, at the girl’s easy well of affection. “And Lucy has not grown up in the public eye. Which is how Sutton wants to keep it. She doesn’t want to thrust Lucy under the microscope of public opinion. And I understand that.”
She really, really did.
Maybe it even made her love Sutton more, in an wild sort of way.
But Sutton would take care of her daughter and her daughter’s needs before anything and anyone else, and Charlotte wouldn’t want her to be any other way. She wouldn’t be Sutton then.
“So if you want to have a future with Sutton… you can’t do it by running for president,” Autumn quietly surmised, still sounding shell-shocked.
Charlotte nodded, the conflicting feelings battling it out inside of her all over again.
“I love Sutton,” she confessed, and the words felt so—soniceto say. Freeing. Validating.
It made her laugh, strangely, wildly, as she carded a hand through her hair. “I do. I love her, and I want to be with her in the very real, undeniable, not-discreet relationship kind of way. But… whatdoesmy life look like without my career? Who am I without it?”
Her laughter faded as she technically stared at Autumn, but wasn’t really seeing her. She was trying to see something far beyond her. Something she couldn’t see, because Charlotte was many things, but she’d never claimed to be clairvoyant.
Pursing her lips, she refused to get caught up in the emotions—how scary, how lonely, how uncertain—surrounding how her future looked if she took away her plan. Even if she and Autumn were acting asfriendsright now, Charlotte was entirely unwilling to bare herself in that way to her assistant. To anyone, really.
Except for Sutton.
“In truth, I have no idea. I’m very certain that I wouldn’t resent Sutton, no matter what the outcome. She isn’t forcing my hand or being selfish, and her concerns aren’t unfounded. But it’s a daunting thought, admittedly, and I’m not exactly sure what to tell Sutton. What do I tell her about a future together, about myself in that future, if I have no idea what it entails?”
That was where Charlotte had found herself stumped in the last couple of days.
“That’s… definitely a pickle,” Autumn quietly conceded.
Her solemn confirmation of Charlotte’spicklemade her chuckle. “You’re telling me.”
The day wasutterlynotwhat Charlotte had anticipated it being. She’d anticipated calling out of work and toiling around her house, perhaps making some of Sutton’s classic pros and cons lists and researching potential career possibilities. Trying to figure out where she saw herself without a future in politics, what she could do with herself. Trying to figure out what she could say to Sutton. How they could overcome this and come out on the other side together.
She absolutely could not have predicted she’d spend her entire morning and early afternoon with Autumn Alton, her assistant-turned-friend, playing card games.
Then they played The Game of Life, which Autumn apparently had ordered to be delivered from somewhere? Charlotte did appreciate Autumn’s resourcefulness; Autumn had never been presented with a task or a conundrum at work that she hadn’t been able to figure out.
Charlotte had been dubious of the game, but Autumn had insisted they play—three times.
Every time they did, Charlotte was given a new career and different obstacles to work through in the game, but she and Autumn ran through them as if they were real possibilities.
Truthfully, it was far more thought-provoking than Charlotte would have thought, more creative than Charlotte ever could have come up with herself, and fun to boot.
Though she didn’t believe firefighter, IT technician, or teacher were viable options for herself, working through hypotheticals made her brain work.
As they came to the end of their second game of MASH in the early afternoon, Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned back against her couch.
“Autumn, I’ve always seen myself in you, but particularly today, with the realization that you are taking my personal life and treating it the same as we would treat a problem-solving brainstorm session in the office is the confirmation I never knew I needed.”
Autumn shrugged. “It just felt right.” But she had a pleased smile on her face as she accepted Charlotte’s words.
Charlotte drew out a deep breath, her laughter fading as she looked down at her latest result in the MASH game.
Owning a mansion, single, president, no children, driving a station wagon—her car with Hamish as her driver had been crossed off in the second round of cuts—and living in New York.
Other than the station wagon and the living in New York—though, granted, she owned a home there—it was an accurate representation of what she could expect if she stayed the course.