Mother's Day poll results (Patreon)

And so Charlotte reigns as the poll winner. Thus, a look into Charlotte as it relates to her feelings on being a mother and on her relationship with her own mom.

Because Charlotte won, I'm honoring the poll and was looking forward to writing this scene between her and her mother!

However, I honestly was excited to write... all of the scenes I have in mind about my characters and their parents - and I do see/hear your exuberance for seeing them, as well. So, next month's bonus scene is going to be one of the other options (Taylor or Riley & Ellie) working through some feelings on their mothers. Stay tuned!

---------- What to Expect -------------

There was very little on earth Charlotte liked more than going down on Sutton.

Since the very first time they’d had sex, it was something she’d thought about incessantly – and she hadn’t even been able to taste her properly that night, so that was saying something.

It was in the way she was so vocal, especially now. Now that they’d been together for years, and Sutton had long stopped biting back any sound or response.

No, now –

“God, fuck, Charlotte,” Sutton panted from above her, the words muffled from the way her thighs clamped so tightly around her ears.

And still, it was the sexiest fucking sound she’d ever heard. Every time.

It was the way Sutton would grab at her hair, tangling her fingers in it, digging in her nails against Charlotte’s scalp. So tightly, like she was worried Charlotte would leave her unsatisfied.

Like Charlotte wouldn’t rather die than leave Sutton hanging like this.

Because that’s how she felt. Ravenous for everything Sutton could possibly give her – to lick every bit of her wetness after she came, and then start all over again. To wring out every single orgasm Sutton could possibly give her.

She’d already made her come twice this morning.

The first time, rubbing Sutton’s clit – soft and slow, just as they were waking up in their morning haze.

The second time, tugging down her sleep shorts and throwing them on the floor.

She’d started slowly then, too.

Kissing up and down the insides of Sutton’s soft thighs.

Licking up her slit, and then down, deliberately not touching her clit or slipping inside of her.

Sutton had come very quickly, though, and before she’d even really caught her breath, she’d pressed her heels into Charlotte’s back and tugged her closer, with a throaty moan of one word: “More.”

So Charlotte was giving her more. It was, irrefutably, her pleasure. It was so much Charlotte’s own pleasure that she’d completely soaked through her own thin, cotton shorts, and she could feel the seam against her hard clit every time she subconsciously rocked down against the mattress.

And still, she wanted Sutton’s third orgasm more than she wanted her own first. She wanted more.

She moaned against Sutton as she lapped her tongue against her hard clit, feeling it pulse. Just as she felt Sutton’s walls clench around the two fingers she’d had buried deep inside of her.

“I’m – coming,” Sutton groaned out seconds before she did just that.

Knowing what Sutton liked best, she kept her fingers moving slowly, lightly tonguing at her clit as she came into her mouth. She didn’t stop until Sutton’s legs went limp over her shoulders, her hands releasing from their tight hold in Charlotte’s hair to fall bonelessly against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” Sutton breathed, her voice hoarse and deliciously sexy. “No more.”

Gently, she tugged her fingers out and pulled back enough to give Sutton’s still lightly trembling thigh a kiss.

Licking her lips, she pushed herself up to be able to look at Sutton. Really look at her, at all of her. Every perfect inch that was on display.

Especially the bump that was truly starting to make itself known now, just as they were turning a corner into Sutton’s fifth month.

Charlotte had never really understood the appeal of pregnancy – either as a participant or appreciating it, visually.

It wasn’t as though she found pregnant women repulsive or anything of the sort; she merely processed them as… normal, average people. Like, ah, that woman is pregnant, that man is walking a dog – nothing noteworthy to see here.

It was very, very different now that Sutton was pregnant.

Granted, when she saw other pregnant women out and about, she still didn’t process anything overly special about them. She wasn’t one of those people that felt obsessive around pregnancy, in general. She had no desire to approach any other women and discuss their pregnancy – Sutton did, and would engage in those conversations when she was out and about. Charlotte… she really only felt this intense about Sutton’s pregnancy.

Sutton – her beautiful, perfect wife – was pregnant, and Charlotte now found that she agreed with every positive statement she’d ever heard about pregnant women. They were glowing, radiant, vitalized.

Before, she honestly hadn’t looked closely enough to determine if she agreed with such sentiments. But it was all true for Sutton.

And what she really hadn’t anticipated was how perfectly suited for all of this Sutton was. Charlotte had no doubts that she would be attracted to Sutton no matter what. Pregnancy, age, weight, illness – none of that really had any bearing on the way she viewed hew wife.

But… Sutton was even more everything to her now, than she was before. Which made Charlotte feel slightly insane, because she’d been everything to her before.

Lost in that thought, she lowered her hand to lightly press against Sutton’s stomach. “Good morning in there, little Darling,” she murmured, before moving her gaze up to meet Sutton’s. “And good morning to you, Darling.”

Sutton’s lips pulled into a beautiful, soft smile. “Yes, it’s a very good morning.” She slowly arched an eyebrow up at Charlotte. “And… for you, it’s going to get even better.”

Charlotte caught her hand, in spite of the fact that her body was craving Sutton’s touch. She lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss against her fingertips. “Soon, it will be.”

Truly, she was more than ready for it.

“But first, I’m going to get you breakfast.”

With that, she ducked down to press her lips to Sutton’s. Just needing a little kiss to hold herself over.

Sutton returned it, lifting her hand to tangle into Charlotte’s hair, stopping her from being able to pull away quickly. “First, I’ll have you for breakfast.”

Charlotte throbbed, not only at the words but the look in Sutton’s eyes.

But, no. If Charlotte was anything in this world, she was responsible. Gripping that thought, she dipped again to kiss Sutton once more, waiting for Sutton’s hand to grow lax, before she pulled away and stood up.

“No, your doctor recommended you have breakfast in the first hour of waking up. And – by my calculations – we’re cutting that close as it is.”

Tapping on her phone, she confirmed as much. By the time she returned to bed with Sutton’s breakfast – Greek yogurt with fresh fruit and whole-grain toast, something Charlotte could easily make and not fuck up in any way – it would have been an hour since they woke up.

Sutton sat up, laughing even as she rolled her eyes. “Love, you do realize that the recommendation of having breakfast within an hour of waking up is, like, a guideline, right? If I get breakfast twenty minutes late, it’s not going to harm the baby.”

“If there is one thing I’m going to do, it’s follow the doctor’s orders. It’s a condition that cannot be compromised, Darling, sorry,” Charlotte smartly informed her. “I will be right back. Don’t move a muscle.”

She turned on her heel to escape down to the kitchen, even as she heard Sutton call out, “Am I permitted to get up and pee, at least?”

“I’ll allow it!” She shouted back.

As she maneuvered around her kitchen, she thought – not for the first time – about how she’d never once in her life spent as much time planning meals or trying to execute dietary perfection as she had since Sutton had told her the news.

Taking care of Sutton – of her family – did feel as natural to her as breathing. But the idea of a baby, of her baby, depending on her…

Charlotte felt reasonably confident that she and Sutton would physically keep their baby safe and healthy.

It was everything else that still concerned her. Not about Sutton, of course, but about herself.

In the months leading up to this, all of the preparation, she’d thought she’d logically worked through her hangups, and Sutton had supported her through many conversations around this: no, Charlotte wasn’t her parents. Yes, Charlotte was excited at the prospect of being a parent. No, Charlotte vehemently did not want a nanny. Yes, she wanted to be there for her child(ren).

But it was one thing to think those things, in theory.

In practice, it was entirely different.

And there was no practice for this; Sutton was pregnant. They were expecting.

She was excited.

She was overwhelmed.

She was a warm, emotional gooey mess.

And she was petrified.

***

Charlotte had never been so fascinated by William before in her life as she was in this moment.

As she and Caleb had stopped by to see their brother while they were in D.C. – Charlotte for work, Caleb to fulfil an obligation at the Foundation – it really was fascinating to her, watching her oldest brother manage his two under-five year olds.

Little Will – ironically, not William’s biological son, but his wife’s son who’d been named William before they’d even met – being four, and Jake being just under two. It was insanity walking into William’s home, like a bomb had gone off.

But William – her perpetually neat-freak brother – seemed entirely nonplussed as he’d welcomed them in and brought them to the kitchen.

In the last hour, Charlotte had missed most of the conversation around her, because she was too focused on everything else.

How William had reached out without even having been directly watching, and grabbed the back of Will’s shirt when he’d tripped over a chair leg and nearly faceplanted on the floor. Or how he’d been able to translate whatever the hell Jake had been asking for in gibberish syllables without even needing him to repeat what he wanted.

And just now, as he managed to tell Will where the toy he was looking for was – in the ground floor bathroom, next to the tub – without blinking an eye, and Charlotte stared in amazement.

“How are you doing it?” She asked, feeling absolutely perplexed and a little overwhelmed by it all.

Her oldest brother turned to look at her, confusion palpable on his face as he asked, “Do… what?”

“The kid thing,” she somewhat managed to explain, gesturing to where Will had been standing a moment ago.

His eyebrows furrowed, as he shrugged. “Oh. I mean, he usually ends up bringing his toy helicopters in there, so–”

She waved her hand to cut him off. “No, I understand the logistics of it, thank you.” With a deep breath, she heaved a shrug, “I’m asking how are you able to… pull it together, like a functioning parent? You look like you’ve been doing this your entire life, and you didn’t even get to have months of preparation when it comes to Will!”

William’s eyes were wide and understanding and sympathetic, as he nodded. She could see in this moment that he knew exactly why she was asking, even without her needing to spell it out. “No one knows what it’s like to be a parent, Charlotte, not until you are one. I promise you. You’re going to learn as you go.”

… all right, that was really lackluster to her.

Caleb barked out a laugh as he picked at the croissant he’d been eating. “Damn, William, I thought what you said was really inspiring.”

Charlotte kicked him under the table, aiming her foot with ease.

“Well, frankly, I was really hoping you’d tell me that you’d discovered some sort of book that spelled everything out for you.”

This time, William laughed. “I’m not sure that could exist? I mean, to your point, you and Sutton are going through this process together. You’re almost six months in, now, and you’re both doing it for the first time. So, you have that at least?”

“No, I don’t,” she denied, incredulously. “At least… not in the same way.” Ugh, it was so fucking hard to explain correctly. She’d tried with Sutton, but – but Caleb and William would get it in ways she knew Sutton, blessedly, couldn’t. “Sutton has a lifetime of perfect role models to turn to.”

And therein was the truth. She could see the understanding dawn on both of her brother’s faces.

“You say I’ll learn as I go. But what if I don’t?” She pushed, and she was surprised the words actually escaped her mouth.

Clearly, by the wide eyes of William and Caleb, her brothers were surprised too. Since when did she speak, candidly, about her concerns? About her worries and possible failures? She’d occasionally voiced her vulnerabilities to Caleb over the years, but not without a lot of needling.

But it was Sutton’s influence – and Regan’s and all of the Spencer family, quite frankly. They all talked so… freely, so openly about their feelings about everything, and were all so unafraid of appearing weak or silly.

Tapping her knuckles against the table, she pressed on, “Look at our parents. If it comes so naturally, where is their parental instinct? Do either of you recall mom ever personally tucking us into bed? Or coming to a sports game or debate?”

“I didn’t partake in school activities, so no room for disappointment on my end,” Caleb commented, glibly.

Charlotte tilted her head at him – yep, there it was. Typical Thompson response of not talking about the vulnerable things.

He sobered at her look, ducking his eyes. “No, I don’t recall anything like that.”

“Because they didn’t,” she concluded aloud, turning her stare back to William. “So I ask again: how do you do it?”

“Therapy,” he answered, after a beat, both lighthearted and earnest. Typical William. “Lots of therapy. Highly recommend it for you, especially if you don’t want to bring any of our parents’ issues into your kid’s life.”

Charlotte heavily leaned back against her chair, pursing her lips. “I was afraid you’d say something to that effect.”

It was a little horrifying, wasn’t it? The very idea of being open and vulnerable and digging into the root of any of her issues – the root of her psyche – with some stranger.

Caleb kicked his feet out, crossing them at the ankles as he interlocked his fingers behind his head. “Ahhhh, well. Don’t look at me. I’m not having any of those little ankle-biters – no offense – running around, so I don’t need that at all.”

Charlotte and William shared a look, both bubbling with laughter at the same time.

***

Charlotte stared dismally across the table at the upscale boutique bistro her mom favored whenever they ended up in D.C. at the same time.

Brunch today had gone the same as it always did – once or twice a year, when one or both of parents were in the same location, either D.C. or Manhattan, as Charlotte and had time in their schedule, they’d arrange a brunch with Charlotte here in this restaurant.

And they’d discuss the same things they always discussed – work, both Charlotte’s and her parents’, general politics and business, the state of global affairs, where her parents were planning on vacationing to this year. The same unimportant, menial, useless conversations they always had, and today was no exception.

For over an hour, as they’d both finished eating, things had been exactly the same today as they were every other fucking time.

And, truth be told, it was unbelievable to her. Truly fucking unbelievable.

She’d tried, very hard, to hold back the words that she felt bubbling up in her throat for the last half hour.

In the past, she would have held it back.

But… she couldn’t do it, today. She couldn’t help herself.

“Sutton’s doing well,” she commented, as she lifted the napkin off of her lap and folded it with sharp movements to place down on the table.

Her mother turned back to face her from where she’d turned to get their waiter’s attention, confusion etched onto her face in just the simple lifting of her eyebrow. “That’s… lovely.”

Charlotte could only stare back, her stomach twisting in – god, she didn’t even know. Anger? Offense? Sadness? A combination?

She crossed her legs and her arms, feeling better with the physical self-defense, as she leaned back in her chair. “I figured I should let you know, given that you haven’t asked, and our brunch is nearly over.”

Her mom sighed, exasperation coloring it. “Charlotte, what is this about? I haven’t heard anything about Sutton being unwell, therefore I didn’t realize you were expecting me to ask after her wellbeing. It’s as simple as that. I’m very glad she’s well.”

Bafflement colored everything inside of her for several paralyzing seconds. Before the irritation and indignation kicked in, and it took everything inside of her to swallow it down into something quiet, rather than let it burst forth inappropriately while in public.

“Sutton’s health is – blessedly – top-notch, and has been throughout her entire pregnancy. But I’d simply assumed you’d have asked after her given that she is not only my wife, but also, as you know, eight months pregnant with our child. With my child.” The words felt sour and ashen on her tongue as she ran her eyes over her mother.

Her mother, who seemed so… alien to her right now.

Her mom sighed again, shaking her head. “Yes, I’m aware. But – if you recall – I’ve been pregnant three times, myself. I’d assumed that if something of note were to have happened, I would have been made aware. It’s really as simple as that.”

“I…” Charlotte trailed off, unable to find words for the thoughts swirling through her head, rapidly and unkindly. “Fine,” she settled on, reaching up to rub at her temples.

“Excuse me.” She lifted her hand away from her face to signal to their waiter as he was passing by their table, flashing a smile she was so good at giving as if nothing was wrong. “Could you please get our check? Thank you so much.”

As soon as he’d nodded and turned away, she let her smile drop, biting so intently at her inner-cheek, she was worried she might draw blood.

“Charlotte,” her mom’s tone was low – of course, never drawing any attention – but boardroom firm. “What on earth is this attitude of yours about?”

“Attitude?” She parroted, ludicrous. “I haven’t begun to show you an attitude.”

Not ever, her inner-voice – the one that had really started to become more active in therapy – chirped.

And it was right.

Charlotte had never given her parents attitude, about anything. She’d walled off any hurts and disappointments from them before she’d even reached high school, telling herself that it didn’t matter. That she had everything she wanted and needed, and her parents never being there didn’t affect her.

It was something she’d been able to hold strong to for so long, she’d allowed herself to completely buy into it.

Only now… now, with her own child imminently on the way, it felt so different.

“Charlotte,” her mother murmured, warningly, casting her eyes around. “What are you doing?”

To her mom’s limited credit, Charlotte was positive her mother truly had no idea what was going on in Charlotte’s mind. How could she? When she didn’t even know Charlotte?

The woman sitting across from her, in all reality, was a stranger. A stranger she shared genes with, but a stranger nonetheless.

“Did you know,” she began, also mindful to keep her voice down. “That when I see Katherine – regardless of if I’m with Sutton or not – the first thing she does is hug me? So tightly, but not… uncomfortably–”

“Good god. I’ve given you everything you could have ever wanted for in the world, and you’re going to sit across from me at lunch, and throw Katherine Spencer in my face?” Her mom hissed.

“I’m not throwing anything in your face,” Charlotte shot back, edging on desperate for her mother to hear her. “I’m trying to tell you something. For once, I’m trying to actually tell you something real about my life.”

Her mother pursed her lips, before waving her hand. “By all means, then…”

Setting her jaw, she ignored the sarcastic tone, and continued, “And after that, she asks how I am. She asks me to tell her what’s on my mind. And – for the record – not only do I see her a hell of a lot more frequently than a lunch once or twice a year when our schedules overlap, but she usually already knows how I am. Because she calls or texts me every single week.”

Something Charlotte had been… surprised about, following her engagement to Sutton. But it was true. Katherine had accepted Charlotte as a member of her family, and she treated her like her own child.

All right, she certainly didn’t contact her as much as she contacted Sutton, but… Charlotte honestly believed that was only due to the fact that Katherine knew Charlotte wouldn’t enjoy that. She tailored all of her parenting styles to each of her children; it had been something Charlotte had noticed over the years. Something she was trying to figure out how to replicate for her own future.

“Yes, I am well-aware that Katherine Spencer is the mightiest of all parents,” her mom’s sardonic tone cut through Charlotte, leaving her burning with a fresh rage. “I suppose I have to remind you that I worked while you were growing up. Running the top consultant firm for the Global 500 didn’t exactly leave you father and I with the ample time to be stay-at-home parents.”

“Clearly, as you were barely-at-home parents.” Charlotte shocks herself with the words… and found that it really didn’t feel satisfying in any way. Even if it was the truth, it didn’t feel good.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head before her mother managed to find… whatever it was she wanted to say. “I’m not… I don’t want to insult you.”

“Odd, because you’re doing a wonderful job of it.” Her mother’s hurt feelings were clear in her tone. Not that her tone was soft at all. In fact, it was the most brittle Charlotte had ever heard.

And it, again, did not feel good. It made Charlotte want to retract what she’d said, to make it all water under the bridge.

But – as she’d been learning in fucking therapy – that was likely because Charlotte felt, in a very real sense, that if she didn’t make all of her issues water under the bridge, then her parents wouldn’t even want to maintain the limited relationship they had, now.

As she stared at her mom, though, Charlotte… she didn’t even know if she wanted it. And that stabbing realization was something she was not prepared to process right now.

“I should have listened to William,” she muttered to herself, absently rubbing her hand over her stomach and regretting the omelet she’d just had, tightly squeezing her eyes closed as their waiter – perfect at his craft – slipped the check on the table without even pausing.

“William?” Her mother echoed, clearly sounding shell-shocked. “What are you talking about?”

Blinking her eyes open, Charlotte stared across the table at her mom. And she didn’t relish the next words out of her mouth, but she wasn’t going to lie, either. “Yes, mother. I’ve discussed this with William. And he was the one that told me trying to have this conversation with you would be a waste of my time and emotional energy. Clearly, he was right.”

“I love Will and Jake,” her mom insisted, and – in her own way – she meant that.

Something inside of Charlotte gentled at seeing the hurt flash across her mom’s face. While this had been brewing for her for months – likely longer, under the surface – she was positive her mother hadn’t imagined this happening. Today or ever.

“I know you do,” she acknowledged. “And William knows that, too. It’s just…” She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “I’m going to be a mother, soon. And I… I want to be there for every moment. The very idea of how much I’m going to have to miss because of my work makes me upset.” She rolled her lips, before softly delivering the fact that, “I suppose what it boils down to is that I just don’t understand you. Maybe I never will.”

She finished paying the bill – thank god for a conveniently QR code – before sliding her phone into her purse.

Her mother’s silence was deafening.

“Anyway. I need to go; I have a therapy appointment.”

Everything inside of her felt raw and tangled, and she was slightly apprehensive about her appointment today, now. But at least there would be plenty to discuss.

Her mother whipped her head up, her mouth open in absolute shock, tinged with… distaste. Yes, that was exactly what Charlotte would call it.

“Therapy?” She echoed in a disdainful whisper. “What are you getting therapy for?”

Charlotte positively gaped at her, a mirthless laugh working from her throat, before she snapped her mouth shut. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to work through her thoughts, before letting it gesture back and forth between them. “Are you serious right now? After the last ten minutes, you’re asking me that?”

Her mother’s spine was rigid as she clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t aware that you were in therapy. Charlotte, everyone has issues with their parents. I mean – if you think your father and I weren’t present for you, imagine how little he saw your grandmother growing up! And you absolutely idolize her.”

The offense was vitriolic in her tone, and… yeah. Charlotte understood why, as she let those words sink in.

She slowly nodded at the validity of them. “I don’t disagree with you.”

The wind was clearly taken from her mother’s sails a bit. “You don’t?”

“No. Because while grandmother was there for me,” and even then, it wasn’t… in traditionally warm-and-fuzzy ways, “I am under no illusions that she was a wonderful, warm, present parent.” She nailed her mother with a hard look. “But just because that was true for grandmother, and it’s true for you and dad, doesn’t mean I want that to be true for me. Because I don’t want to be having brunch with my daughter in thirty years, while she tells me that I was never there for her.”

Which had been the thing that had gotten her to start therapy two months ago in the first place. Her fear of making the same mistakes of her parents – and it was entirely possible, she knew that – was bigger than the fear of being vulnerable and open to a professional to work out her shit.

“Does she know you’re in therapy?” Her mom finally managed to ask, wrinkling her nose in disdain. “I can only imagine what she would have to say about that.”

“She does, actually,” Charlotte confirmed, arching her mom a look.

Because the surprise that filtered over her mom’s face was exactly what she’d imagined.

Honestly, she understood that. Because she’d been nervous to discuss it with her grandmother, too. Her grandmother, the epitome of strength and resilience and forging your own way ahead in the world. Her grandmother, who’d always held Charlotte to that same standard.

She’d been a little surprised… and then she’d scoffed out a laugh as she’d said, “That’s probably a good thing to start doing in the Thompson family.”

“She told me that she’s proud of me.”

A part of Charlotte had wanted to say that with aha! In her tone, but she couldn’t, and she didn’t. Mostly because it didn’t feel satisfying in any way. This entire conversation just made her… sad.

Her mother back in her chair, perfect posture destroyed, if only for a few seconds as she simply murmured, “Oh.”

Charlotte waited another few moments to see if anything else was forthcoming. But when it wasn’t, she stood and tugged her purse over her shoulder.

“Charlotte,” her mother reached out and touched her wrist, briefly. Just getting Charlotte to still as she started to walk by. She swallowed visibly hard. “I want you to – to know. That I love you. And I care for Sutton, and your baby. Deeply. I do.”

Even her mother’s delivery for those words – honest as she could tell they were – was so stilted and uncomfortable.

Ohhh, yeah, it was a good thing Charlotte was already in therapy! She took in a deep, heavy breath, her throat tight with emotion, as she nodded. “Well. Thank you for saying it. And… I love you, too.”

That was all she had the bandwidth for today.

She pulled her large sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them on her face as she pushed the doors open into the late April sun, before reaching into her purse to grab her phone.

She’d been so wrapped up in the conversation, she hadn’t had time to call for a car, and –

She frowned, lifting her glasses up to rest on her head as she stared down at her screen.

In the couple of minutes since she’d paid the bill, she had two missed calls from Sutton, a missed call from Regan, and a text –

Regan best-friend Galladeaux – 12:02P.M.ANSWER YOUR PHONE BITCH YOUR WIFE IS IN LABOR!!!!!!

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

“Oh my god!” She shouted to no one as she stood on the sidewalk, everything inside of her buzzing into high, intense energy.

The baby was coming!

Sutton was in labor!

It wasn’t time!

She wasn’t fucking there!

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t tell her mother that she’d been an absentee parent and then miss the birth of her fucking daughter in the same day. The cruelest of ironies couldn’t happen to her like that.

“Charlotte, are you all right?” Her mom asked from behind her, voice still tightly controlled, but obviously alarmed.

She wheeled around, waving her phone in the air. “I – Sutton – baby, coming. Now.”

Why was she waving her phone in the air like an idiot? She jerked it back down, her fingers shaking slightly as she tapped on her contacts. “Car, I need to get a car. To the airport. And a plane ticket.”

She wasn’t prepared for this. She’d been so prepared – she was supposed to arrive home tomorrow, and Sutton wasn’t due for another few weeks, and she wasn’t planning on leaving the city again before then.

Her mother took a hold of her elbow and led her to the sleek black town car parked at the curb. “Here. Dulcie will take you to the airport. I will book you the next ticket out and send you the details.”

She heard her mom’s words registering over the chaotic din of thoughts, and she processed them with a nod.

Okay. Yes. She was getting to the airport. She’d have a plane ticket.

“Thank you. I…” She trailed off, running a trembling hand through her hair.

“Just go,” her mom urged, quietly, her voice level as she opened the door to the car for her. “It’s all right.”

For a moment, she could only stare helplessly at her mother. Her daughter was coming, now. Sutton was going through the biggest thing she’d ever experienced, and Charlotte wasn’t there. It was categorically not all right.

Her mom ushered Charlotte into the car. “Let me know when your daughter’s born.”

“Okay. Yes. I will,” she assured, feeling like this moment was so surreal.

Was this how it was supposed to feel? Like nothing made sense anymore, but also – in a way – like it made the most sense?

She took a moment – just a moment – as the car door shut, to gather herself. To close her eyes and breathe.

“The new destination is Dulles, ma’am?” The driver asked, as he flicked on his blinker to enter traffic.

She opened her eyes, meeting his in the rearview. “Yes. Thank you. I… I’m going to be a parent,” she stated, just because she couldn’t not.

He smiled at her. “That’s great! Congratulations.”

She smiled back at him, tremulously, before she unlocked her phone.

Katherine – 12:07P.M.I’m on my way. Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart. This is one of the most biologically natural processes since the beginning of time. You have an incredible medical team. Sutton is not alone. Regan will make sure she arrives safely. You will get there in time. And I will see you, and my new granddaughter, soon!

How did she know? Charlotte hadn’t even spoken to her, and she knew exactly what Charlotte was feeling.

She hit Sutton’s contact info to call her wife, feeling everything slot into place inside of her – as much as it possibly could right now, anyway. No, she didn’t feel in control the way she typically did.

But right now the mission was to get back to New York, get to the hospital, and do it as quickly as humanly possible. She would do whatever she needed to do to make that happen.

Including, “I’m sorry, I do hate to be this person, but I meant: I’m going to be a parent imminently. My wife is in labor in Manhattan. For every minute you can get me to the airport before the ETA on the GPS, I will give you an extra hundred dollars.”

The driver lifted his eyebrows. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lifted the phone to her ear just as Sutton answered, her voice strained, “It’s happening. She’s coming. Oh my god, Regan, stop harassing the cab driver.”

Everything inside of Charlotte settled at the sound of her voice. “I’m coming, darling. I will make it,” she promised. She didn’t care what she had to fucking do.

She was going to be a mother.

Holy fuck.

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