The scents of the meal Sutton was preparing wafted through the house, immediately setting the tone into something warm and pleasant. It didn’t entirely settle the knots in Charlotte’s stomach, but its comforting holiday familiarity was something.
She paused in the doorway to the large living area, Katherine and Lucy walking ahead of her, just to get her bearings.
Regan, Emma, and Alex looked to be having an animated conversation—at least, Regan and Alex seemed animated while Emma looked amused—and in a way, the familiarity of that scene struck a chord of ease inside of her. Lucy had run over to Jack and now held court with both of her grandparents. Sutton’s youngest brother—Ethan, this one Charlotte knew, despite having only met once in passing at the New Year’s Eve party—sat on the couch, commenting on the parade to Alex’s boyfriend, whose name shedidn’tremember, but they’d never formally met, so she gave herself a pass.
In a way, the fact that they all behaved as Charlotte might have anticipated in this scene gave her a blanket of security. Even if she was the odd woman out, she could read these people, read a room.
Rather than forge deeper into the lion’s den, however, she turned and slipped into the kitchen. To come face to face with Sutton bent at the waist, peering into the oven. It was a view she certainly appreciated.
“Regan, I swear, you better not be coming back to take out any more appetizers. No one will be able to eat when the turkey is done.” Her exasperated tone was obvious, and it made Charlotte’s shoulders loosen. The smile on her face was now entirely natural.
“Ah, okay, I will refrain from taking a tray out for a rotation in the living room then.”
Sutton froze before straightening up comically fast and whipping around.
Her cheeks were pink—likely from the heat in the kitchen, but Charlotte thought there was a little blush there, too—her hair pulled back into a half ponytail, and she had an apron folded around her waist that accentuated her hips in the most delightful way.
Charlotte would be the first to admit that she was not one to have any fantasies about women staying at home, so this specific image being so appealing to her in this moment was—odd.
But she was fairly certain that Sutton in any way appealed to her.
She shook herself out of it; she had been doing her very best in the last several weeks to not delve overly much into her attraction to Sutton or the feelings that swirled low in the pit of her stomach whenever they spoke.
It didn’t mean she didn’t feel them becausefuck, did she ever. But Sutton wanted friendship, and Charlotte was doing her best to abide by it.
It was sometimes difficult, though.
“Charlotte,” Sutton breathed out her name, surprised but also warm, before that smile melted over her features. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“You did say any time after noon.” She playfully tilted her head to the clock, that, indeed, reported the time to be one.
Sutton rolled her eyes as she wiped her hands over the apron. “Idid.”
“And I am a relatively punctual person,” she added. “No?”
Sutton pursed her lips to unsuccessfully stifle a smile. “Fine, you win.”
A thoughtful look crossed her face for a moment, before she walked, hesitantly at first, across the room, toward Charlotte.
“I’m glad you came,” Sutton murmured as she came to a stop right in front of Charlotte, worrying at her bottom lip for a moment before she swiftly leaned down and pressed a kiss on her cheek and wrapped her arms around Charlotte’s waist.
It was casual. It was absolutely the same thing Sutton had done to every other person who’d arrived at her home today, more than likely, and Charlotte knew that. Logically.
Illogically, she had to take a moment to revel in it. In the feeling of Sutton’s body against hers, the way she could breathe in her perfume over the smells of the food cooking when she was this close, the lingering feeling of her lips brushing against her cheek.
They’d gotten better at casual touches. It wasn’t awkward or stilted between them.
But it didn’t mean Charlotte didn’t take absolute pleasure in them.
She squeezed once around Sutton’s waist, a conscientiously casual embrace, before they both drew back.
“I’m glad I did, too,” she finally returned, and honestly, she was. Even with her rather questionable welcome.
Because, honestly, if it meantthis—this hug, this look of happiness to see her all over Sutton’s face, this extra time with Sutton when she may have otherwise not seen her for days—it was worth it.
“I brought you something,” she murmured, not necessarily wanting to break this easy, quiet moment. She reached into her bag, deliberately chosen for the size, and proudly pulled out the container she’d ordered had personally picked up yesterday afternoon.
Sutton’s smile was immediate and wide and so genuine it made Charlotte nearly puff out her chest with pride. “Lemon cakes! Where did you get them? I don’t recognize the bakery?”