Which only served to confuse Sutton even more.
It had been so, so long since she’d been unable to read Charlotte like a book—like apicturebook, specifically—so this was unsettling. Sutton’s stomach twisted with the emotion.
“I’m sorry, love, I really thought this would be a happy moment,” she spoke slowly, even as her thoughts moved quickly, trying to figure out what was happening. “Areyouokay?”
Slowly, Charlotte took a step back, disconnecting them; then another, so she could lean against the counter. “I’m okay,” she assured her softly.
“I hope you understand that I’m not entirely convinced?” Sutton attempted to tease her, but it was difficult when she saw the pronounced wrinkles in Charlotte’s forehead.
It was the look she wore when she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around something.
Wondering if that was it, Sutton cautiously tried again. “Should I start making phone calls for you? Get out the planner so we can start making decisions? I’ve already been thinking about slogans.”
The smile that flashed over Charlotte’s face was small but entirely genuine, and it helped to soothe Sutton’s worries. “Of course you have. But… no. I don’t want that.”
There was awe in her tone, like Charlotte had figured something out. Sutton was still desperately trying to catch up.
Charlotte blew out a deep breath and pushed herself away from the counter. Then she reached up and cupped Sutton’s jaw, tugging her down to brush her lips against Sutton’s again. This kiss was deeper than their brief hello, lingering.
It felt soft and sweet, and she felt the tightness in her shoulders relax from it, especially as she felt Charlotte’s thumbs sweep gently over her cheeks. Okay. Yes. This was good and normal.
“You are perfect, darling. But I won’t be running for president.”
Charlotte punctuated her statement with another kiss—this one swift and final—before she slid her hands down and squeezed Sutton’s hips. “Now, I’d really like you to video this cooking triumph for me to send a teaser to Caleb.”
Dumbfounded, Sutton could only stare. Okay, this wasnotgood and normal, and—“What?”
“My phone is on the island,” Charlotte informed her, tilting her head to where her phone presumably was. “I’d get it, but my hands are flour-y.”
“No, not—just—stop?” she requested, feeling like she was losing her mind.
Sutton lifted her hands to rest on Charlotte’s shoulders, making sure they were standing face to face, that there could be no miscommunication or misunderstanding as she echoed her former statements. “Charlotte, I’m not joking; I wouldneverjoke about this. I’m incredibly, utterly serious. Our family is ready for you to run for president.Iwant to see you fulfil that dream. I want it,” she assured her, wondering if she sounded as crazy as she felt.
What was she saying that Charlotte wasn’t getting? They were never so misaligned.
“I know you aren’t joking,” Charlotte assured her again, shaking her head incredulously up at Sutton. “You would never joke about this.”
“I wouldn’t,” she swore.
“I know,” Charlotte repeated, chuckling as they completed their verbal circle. “And I’m not joking when I tell you that I won’t be running for president.”
Sutton had always felt that flabbergasted was a ridiculous word, but somehow it was the only one that matched her mental state. “Charlotte Elizabeth Spencer-Thompson, this is your dream; what are you even talking about?”
Charlotte’s laughter faded away as her gaze searched Sutton’s. “It isn’t my dream, though. Not anymore.”
“You really don’t have to say that on my account,” Sutton insisted, certain it was the only thing that made sense. Charlotte was trying to put her first somehow.
“I’m not. I swear on your life, I’m simply telling you how I feel in this moment.” Charlotte bit down on her bottom lip, clearly searching for the right way to explain herself.
Because she was Charlotte, it didn’t take long.
“Darling, I have never resented you. I’ve never resented the fact that I didn’t continue my career in politics. And it would kill me if you thought that was the case.”
Sutton shook her head, answering Charlotte’s wordless question.
When she did, Charlotte squeezed her hips again, relief melting over her face. “Good. Was leaving politics an easy decision? No; you know that. But I’ve always understood why it had to be that way. And”—she rolled her lips, her eyes taking on a faraway look—“somewhere along the line, it stopped being what I wanted.”
Sutton wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to continue standing, given how strong the shock was coursing through her veins.