So… yes.
Sutton was happy.
“It’s just—I’mgetting marriedtoday,” she breathed out, feeling the weight of those words as they settled over her. They weren’t necessarily pushing her down or suffocating her, but it was a big thing to say all the same.
“Which is your dream,” Regan cautiously spoke, still studying Sutton through narrowed eyes.
“Exactly.”
“And… you can’t think of anything or anyone that would make this dream better or more exciting than Layla makes you feel?”
Unbidden, Charlotte’s face popped into Sutton’s mind.
She didn’t think of Charlotte Thompson often. Not anymore, not after almost four years. Sutton told herself she’d think of Charlotte even less frequently if Charlotte was just… any normal person in the world.
But she wasn’t. She was Charlotte Thompson, rising star politician, whose popularity had only continued to skyrocket since their time in one another’s lives had ended.
As a consequence, Sutton couldn’t avoid her all of the time. Charlotte’s speeches in Congress or on the news would inevitably pop up, and Sutton would see her, hear her, all perfectly styled hair and satisfied half-smiles and curvy hips under well-tailored clothing.
Sutton quickly shook her head.
It seemed normal for the only other person she’d been in love with to pop into her mind on a day like today, right? Besides, having this dream with Charlottedidn’tmake Sutton feel whimsical or excited, emotions she’d felt for the majority of her engagement to Layla.
It mostly reminded her of that dull ache Charlotte had left her with when she’d chosen her career over Sutton. In fairness, Charlotte was a politician of her word; she’d never made a promise to Sutton that she didn’t keep.
And that was great.
Charlotte got to live out her dreams, and Sutton now got to live out her own.
Everyone wins.
“No. I was just having some pre-wedding butterflies. But I’m ready for a celebratory breakfast.” When Regan’s brow remained furrowed, she added, in a voice she hoped was chirpy and pleasant, “Now.”
Charlotte walked into her apartment,kicking the door closed behind her, as she spoke into her phone, “Yes, Bryce, I’m meeting with Senator Pike next week about it… Great. All right. Have a good night.”
She let out a deep breath, exhaustion from her very, very long day finally edging in and demanding to be felt.
She’d kept herself very busy today, deliberately scheduling as many meetings as possible. As it was, she’d just returned home and hung up with the governor at nearly nine o’clock p.m., despite having been out of her D.C. apartment by six this morning. And she hadn’t gotten very much sleep last night either.
Today was the day.
Charlotte had learned about Sutton’s big day unwittingly, but it had been burned into her memory as if it were a core, defining moment ever since.
It had started a few months ago. She’d been at a fundraiser upstate when she’d overheard a small group of people talking, including a current Massachusetts senator, who mentionedJack’s daughter’s upcoming wedding.
Charlotte had been really on her game that day, up until that moment. She’d been schmoozing and wheeling and dealing, and then her stomach felt like it had fallen to her fucking feet.
Jack was a common name, Charlotte knew, but she also knew Senator Eaton didn’t have any family members named Jack, and therefore, he was likely talking about a friend. Likely a coworker, given this event and who she was talking to.
No,Jack, coming from Melody Eaton, could only mean one man; Charlotte was sure of it.
She’d known Sutton, Jack’s daughter, was dating someone.
Against her better judgment, Charlotte had never been able to bring herself to block Sutton on social media. She’d never been able to stop herself from looking at Sutton’s accounts every so often, when her curiosity—see also: longing, regret—got the better of her.
She didn’t do itfrequently, which was why it was okay. Only once or twice a year. That was sane. That was fine.
This woman Sutton had been dating for over a year was… attractive, Charlotte had to grudgingly admit. She wasapparentlya fucking doctor. Dr. Layla West.