Guilty as Sin - ch. 8 (Patreon)

I mostly just love, in writing the last couple of chapters, that Charlotte doesn't have a clue that Sutton is queer.

But... in fairness, I don't think she'd feel quite so comfortable potentially letting Sutton in, if she knew.

Alas - enjoy!

-------- guilty as sin ----------

Chapter Eight

The thunder crashed in the sky above them, lightning streaking through the storm clouds, and the rain that pelted down was so intense, it was nearly impossible to see clearly out of the windshield of the car, even with the wipers moving as fast as possible.

Which, on one hand, made Charlotte grateful about the fact that they’d be pulling up to her apartment building shortly. Her career was still so young. She’d barely had the chance to make a mark on the world; she couldn’t die yet.

On the other hand, though, it was just after five o’clock in the evening. And – now, in a twist of events – there was no evening dinner or event to occupy their time. Which meant… she’d be alone, in her apartment, with Sutton, for hours. All night.

Despite the fact that it was now Thursday evening, and Sutton had been staying with her since Sunday, they’d barely spent any time alone together in her apartment. Excepting that first night, of course.

They left her apartment before eight in the morning every day, and starting Monday morning, they’d met up in the living area with about three minutes before the car was due to arrive. They’d both gotten ready in their respective bedrooms and bathrooms, as if by unspoken agreement.

Granted, that was Charlotte’s typical behavior. Given that she wasn’t a “morning person” her morning routine was as brief as possible, and all contained to her personal space.

Sutton was the wild card, here. But she hadn’t heard her puttering around in the kitchen or anything, so… it seemed they were on the same page, this week.

And this week had been packed so full of meetings and events; Charlotte really had wanted Sutton to come to D.C. to have her taking notes, fielding calls and emails, managing her schedule. It was the first real time she’d been putting Sutton to the test of the grind in D.C.

Unsurprisingly, she’d sailed through. She’d managed everything as if she’d been born for it, and having Sutton by her side had taken a weight off of Charlotte that she hadn’t realized she’d still been carrying.

They were so busy, though, that they’d had dinner out – either at events or just grabbing something on the go – every day. They didn’t get home until after eight every night, which made it very easy to say their goodnights within minutes of entering her apartment.

Charlotte couldn’t say it was all down to good fortune; she’d certainly taken a hard look at her schedule to finagle the most out-of-home time this week that she could manage after Sunday night.

Sunday night, when Sutton had walked right into her kitchen like another one of Charlotte’s wet dreams.

Fine, no, she hadn’t been wearing anything that Charlotte’s dreams – the count now being up to three. Three! – summoned up for her.

But, somehow, seeing Sutton dressed in her casualwear on Sunday night had been just as attractive to her?

Perhaps that was a giant, neon sign that Charlotte had gone for far too long without the touch of another woman. That was likely the case. Because she’d never found someone sexy in their very simple, unassuming pajamas.

… then again, Charlotte didn’t really spend time with women she found attractive in their pajamas. It was either real clothing or no clothing.

Either way.

She hadn’t anticipated that she’d have found fucking sweatpants and a tank top so alluring. The fact that a few smooth inches of skin at Sutton’s waist and her collarbones had been on display surely had something to do with it.

She’d been wearing a robe for fuck’s sake.

Not even, like, a sheer and silky robe. But something that looked soft, made out of thin cotton, worn for comfort.

… yes. The fact that Charlotte had then gone to bed and had another dream about Sutton that night? Could only be explained by the fact that her body was literally crying out for a release.

One that Charlotte wasn’t going to give her. Absolutely not with Sutton in her apartment!

Other than Sunday night, though, the arrangement had worked out very well. If Sutton had been commuting an hour – or more – both ways every day, they would have both been displeased and stressed out about the situation.

Tonight – of course, the last night they were in D.C. – the luck seemed to have run out.

“I guess it’s really lucky that we had to miss the luncheon today where everyone got food poisoning?” Sutton said from where she sat next to Charlotte in the backseat of the car.

Successfully managing to pull Charlotte out of her thoughts, she turned to look at Sutton. Who was looking from back at her, a tentative smile tugging up the corners of her lips.

“… yes,” she haltingly agreed.

Charlotte had planned to attend a dinner tonight with five other people, four of whom had attended the ill-fated luncheon earlier today. And so, dinner had been postponed until the next time she’d be in the city.

“I mean, it would at least be lucky for us that your apartment has two bathrooms,” Sutton muttered, this time seemingly more to herself, as she turned to look back out the window.

Charlotte wrinkled her eyebrows together in disgust at the visual, even as a surprised laugh worked out of her throat. “Sutton, that’s… ew.”

Sutton turned back to face her, her grin turning mischievous with a glint in her blue eyes.

Entirely too appealing.

Still, though, Charlotte continued to laugh. More because of how surprised she was at that comment from Sutton Spencer of all people than how funny she found it.

Sutton did sober a second later, giving her a slightly apologetic look. “I grew up with three brothers and a sister that has done things much cruder than all of the boys combined; sometimes, I guess, that fact rears its head.”

Obviously Charlotte was well-aware of Sutton’s family size, though Sutton typically didn’t bring it up much. Typically, the comments that Sutton would let slip out during their work days revolved around her daily life. Which was how Charlotte had, subconsciously, already built a character profile for Sutton’s best friend/roommate.

“Here. I hope you ladies have an umbrella,” their driver said with a grim encouragement as he came to a stop.

“We do not,” Charlotte murmured, turning her attention back out the window, where the summer downpour continued to rage.

The driver had pulled up to the small but well-manicured lawn area just outside the perimeter of the building – something that was supposed to give the slightest bit of a façade about the fact that these apartments did not, in fact, have any natural greenery given their location.

They had about twenty feet between them and the entrance to the building, and Charlotte took a deep breath, reaching her arm over her bag as protectively as she could manage, as she looked at Sutton.

“Ready?”

Sutton had secured her bag as well, as she nodded dutifully right back. “Ready.”

“Thank you for the ride,” Charlotte addressed to the driver, bracing herself as she gripped the door handle.

“Be safe in this weather,” Sutton added, so sincerely.

They glanced at one another again, a silent communication passing between them, as they both opened their doors in unison and left the car.

Immediately – literally, within seconds of stepping out of the safety of the car – the rain pelted down against Charlotte so hard, it felt like little pinpricks even through her clothing. Her clothing that was already stuck right to her skin.

Even as the wind blew her hair in front of her face and the rain washed over her, she turned to make sure Sutton hadn’t fallen into a puddle or anything; after all, she’d gotten out of the side of the car farther from the door.

Only to see Sutton dart past her, a flash of color in the otherwise dreary evening.

Charlotte followed suit, grimacing at the wet, soggy feeling in her heels as she went.

They were technically under the protection of the awning within thirty seconds, and yet Charlotte was soaked to the bone. Her hair was dripping as if she’d just gotten out of the shower, she could feel that the rain had seeped completely through her clothing to her skin.

She set her jaw at the feeling, quickly punching in her security code and holding the door for Sutton.

Once inside, they both paused, turning to look dismally out at the weather.

“Sorry,” Sutton stated after a few seconds.

“Because… you control some sort of weather-controlling power that I’m not yet aware of?” Charlotte drawled in confusion, turning to look at her.

There was a rueful frown on Sutton’s face as she rolled her eyes. “Obviously not. But I should have bought an umbrella earlier today,” she explained, shaking her head with obvious disappointment in herself. “While you were in your closed-door meeting before lunch.”

Charlotte arched her a look. “Sutton, I, too, am capable of reading a weather report. We were expecting a drizzle tonight. This is the furthest thing from a drizzle. If anything, I should have an umbrella that we could have taken with us.”

She paused, then, getting a good look at Sutton.

Who was just as soaking wet as Charlotte was. Meaning her clothing clung to her tall, lithe body in ways that were fucking sinful.

Clearing her throat, Charlotte pointedly turned and headed toward the elevator. “Come on. I think we should both change into some dry clothes before any potential sickness catches up to us, too.”

“Good idea,” Sutton agreed. She waited until they were in the elevator before asking, “So… what do you want to do for dinner?”

Charlotte froze. “Together?” She asked, lightly.

She could see how Sutton frowned, then flushed. “I mean, that makes the most sense, right? We’ll both be here. Together. Unless you have other plans that weren’t on your schedule?”

“Ah, no. I don’t,” she confirmed, swiftly stepping off of the elevator, trying to think of how best to avoid spending the night with Sutton without making anything feel awkward.

It didn’t really seem there was a way around it, though.

As she entered the code to unlock her front door, Sutton smiled at her. All warm and sweet and sunny.

“Okay, so we’ll meet in the living room to figure out what’s for dinner, after we change?” She proposed, sounding so hopeful.

Charlotte stared back for a few conflicted seconds, before she found herself agreeing, “I suppose we will.”

And since when was Sutton the one between the two of them making the plan?

***

A half hour later, Charlotte had taken a quick shower and changed into dry clothes.

It had taken her far more debate as to what to where than it ever should, when it came to spending a night in her own home.

But she was going to be spending a night in her own home with Sutton.

If she emerged wearing actual clothing – clothing she’d wear to go out – it would certainly transmit the signal that she felt uncomfortable. But she obviously couldn’t wear the short-shorts she’d put on if she was alone.

She pulled on one of her old Yale t-shirts, and a pair of joggers. It still felt far too casual, but not inappropriate.

She frowned at herself, annoyed at the uncertainty that continued to sit heavily inside of her around the idea of spending an evening with Sutton.

She was Charlotte fucking Thompson; what did she have to be afraid of by spending a few hours with her assistant? Just because it wasn’t something she was used to didn’t mean she should fear it.

Had she really become so… entrenched in her work, so out-of-touch with being with other people, socially, that it had come to this? That she only felt ease and comfort in work situations? Where she was able to wield a veneer over her actual self?

God, that was alarming.

And in this moment, she decided that she was not going to be that person.

Sutton was kind and diligent and trustworthy; she was someone Charlotte was learning to trust.

With that, Charlotte exited her bedroom.

Only to find Sutton already sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone.

Sutton had already changed into her own loungewear for the evening – apparently, an oversized blue button-down and a pair of shorts that at least went to her mid-thigh. Her hair had clearly been mostly blown dry, but she’d left it down, pulled to the side over one of her shoulders. The ends were still slightly wet, dripping onto her shirt.

Shaking herself out of it, Charlotte dropped her hands to her hips, and cleared her throat to get Sutton’s attention.

“I want you to know that…” How was she supposed to say this? “That I hope you’ll want to keep working together, for the foreseeable future. Which means that we’ll be spending more and more time together. And the only logical conclusion from that is that we’ll become… closer,” she settled on, even as the idea made her stomach twist with nerves.

“But I,” she paused, needing to push away those nerves and center herself. “The truth, Sutton, is that I truly don’t let many people in. I know that we discussed how small my trust-tree is when it comes to my sexuality, but the reality is that I’m not sure the last time I – conscientiously – made anything resembling a friend.”

How embarrassing to say aloud. But Charlotte wouldn’t let herself feel embarrassed by it; she stood tall.

Sutton’s crystal-clear blue eyes widened, obviously surprised. “Dean?”

Charlotte couldn’t help but fondly roll her eyes, waving her hand. “Yes, there is Dean. But… he and I became close because of work. Because, eventually, we realized we had a lot in common.”

Plus, he’d started fucking her brother. There was also that.

“I supposed, perhaps, that you and I are in a similar situation,” she mused, and –

Huh.

All right. Thinking about Sutton like that gave Charlotte pause.

Sutton, at the root of it all, wasn’t all that different than Dean, in terms of forming a closer bond. They were both friendships born in the workplace. Sutton was her subordinate, but she’d, technically, been Dean’s. And that hadn’t hindered them from growing close. In fact, she’d argue that their working relationship was all the better for it.

Feeling bolstered by that, she refocused her attention on Sutton, who was staring up at her waiting for whatever Charlotte would say next.

“Honestly, Sutton, as you know from the last month – my work is my life. I have very big plans,” she murmured, meaningfully. Though she and Sutton hadn’t ever discussed the fact that Charlotte intended to – at the pinnacle of her career – run for the presidency. “I always have. And those plans have been my focus for the last ten years of my life. Pursuing that has superseded everything else in my life, including friendships.”

Where did adults even make friends, Charlotte wondered, if not for work?

“I’m telling you this because I’m finding it a strange situation, you and I,” she confessed, honestly. “One that I’m not used to. If you and I hadn’t met because of work, then I likely wouldn’t feel as though us talking as… friends… would be something so foreign to me.”

Then again, if they hadn’t met because of work – as she’d just thought – then, how would they have met at all?

“I think it would be odd – of course – if we were both here, and we spent the entire night in our own respective bedrooms, ignoring one another. I just, also, am unsure of how to proceed if we aren’t doing something work-related. I realize that this,” she gestured between them, “Isn’t going to be a typical friendship given that I’m your boss, but I also realize that, given the nature of how much time we spend together, not having a friendship would be just as atypical.”

She let out a deep sigh, finding that she felt… better, having laid all of her cards on the table.

Even if admitting to her assistant that she didn’t know how to go about making a fucking friend made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.

That discomfort fled, though, in the face of Sutton’s bright, thrilled smile.

“I think that you’re going to realize being friends with me is a lot easier than you might think,” Sutton stated, sounding very sure of herself. “I’m a pretty good friend. I have references.”

Charlotte blanched, holding up a hand. “You can keep Regan’s reference.”

Sutton laughed, the sound of it making Charlotte smile.

There. She’d made Sutton laugh, because she could do that. And not just as her political-veneer-self, but as her real self. The one, she realized, she wanted to be around Sutton.

She didn’t want to lose this part of herself, she thought, in the face of Sutton’s honest, encouraging smile.

And maybe that was the value Sutton brought to her life that Charlotte couldn’t have possibly understood until this moment.

“How do you feel about Indian for dinner?” She suggested. “There’s a great place only a block away, so we needn’t be concerned that someone will need to be driving across the city to deliver anything in this weather.”

“That sounds great,” Sutton responded, seeming like she was trying to bite back her full smile. “How do you feel about starting a puzzle while we wait?”

“A… puzzle,” she slowly echoed in confusion.

Sutton nodded, enthusiastically, as she pointed at the coffee table. Charlotte followed where she pointed, realizing that there was, indeed, a box for a new five thousand piece puzzle sitting there that she hadn’t yet noticed.

Her confusion only grew, as she walked closer to get a better look.

The picture of the puzzle was stunning – lush, thriving garden, complete with so many bursts of color, and Charlotte found herself smiling slightly.

“I love puzzles,” she murmured, unthinkingly.

“I know,” Sutton answered, just as quietly, as she leaned forward where she sat on the couch.

When Charlotte cut her a confused look, Sutton blushed.

“I mean, I heard Caleb make a comment a few weeks ago.”

She rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in a reproach aimed at her brother. Charlotte remembered the comment, as Caleb had talked out of her office – past Sutton’s desk – remarking that he hoped she’d go and do something a little more exciting that weekend than a mind-numbing jigsaw puzzle suited to someone their grandmother’s age.

“When did you buy this?” She asked, realizing that she certainly hadn’t had this lying around.

 Sutton dug her perfect teeth into her bottom lip. “Earlier today, when I ran out to the store during your closed-door meeting. I wasn’t even thinking that we’d do it together; I just figured I’d get it and leave it here for you to do…” She trailed off, looking around Charlotte’s apartment as her eyebrows furrowed.

She looked around, as well, seeing her apartment through – what she believed – was Sutton’s gaze.

Given the way Sutton had swept into her office and made it so personal and warm, she imagined that Sutton brought that same touch wherever she lived.

And though this apartment did exactly what Charlotte needed it to do – function as a home base close to work – she certainly hadn’t added any personal touches to the décor side of things. Even less than she had in her condo in Manhattan.

“Not very many personal touches,” she wryly stated, bringing Sutton’s attention right back to her.

Those blue eyes widened in alarm as Sutton shook her head. “No, no, that’s not… I wasn’t…” She grimaced, apologetic. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

Charlotte chuckled, genuinely just so tickled by Sutton’s blatant honesty, as she moved to sit on the couch next to her. Not too close, but… friendly.

“It’s okay. I’m well-aware that my interior design skills leave a lot to be desired.” Honestly, it wasn’t even that she didn’t have any eye for design; she simply lacked the time and energy. She shrugged, admitting, “It’s just not a priority for me. You’ve seen what my time is like here. And in general.”

“I guess that’s true,” Sutton admitted, though she was frowning slightly at Charlotte. She opened her mouth, as if about to say something else after a moment, then  snapped it shut, holding whatever had popped into her mind, in.

Sutton then averted her gaze and leaned forward, reaching for the puzzle as she changed the subject, “Let’s get into this, then. First friendship activity – er,” she quickly cut Charlotte a tentative, questioning look. “Friend-like activity?”

“Sure,” she agreed without clarifying what word she meant.

Because, honestly, she didn’t even really know; this was also new for her.

As Sutton carefully dumped the puzzle pieces out of the box, though, Charlotte stared at her profile, wondering what it was that Sutton had been thinking a minute ago. What she’d stopped herself from saying.

And, what the hell? If they were going to be friends-ish, she wasn’t going to be left wondering.

“Did you have another remark about my décor skills?” She pressed, her tone light and teasing.

Sutton paused, though, and worried at her bottom lip as she shot Charlotte a look, and –

Oh. Interesting.

She could tell just by the hesitant expression on Sutton’s face that she’d been off-base before Sutton slowly answered, “Um. No. That wasn’t what I’d been thinking about.”

Even more intrigued, Charlotte arched a sharp look at Sutton. “Color me intrigued.”

But Sutton shook her head, her cheeks coloring a dark red as she intently leaned forward and started sifting through the pieces, turning them all puzzle-side up. “It’s nothing. None of my business.”

Charlotte mirrored her, also leaning forward to mindlessly start turning the puzzle pieces over. Their shoulders brushed lightly together as they moved, sometimes their thighs as well. Every time, a very aware warmth buzzed through Charlotte.

She steeled herself against it, though, focusing more on Sutton’s words. Which, frankly, she didn’t appreciate. “First and foremost, you don’t have to say anything you don’t feel comfortable bringing up. However, if what’s holding you back is a boundary… well, I did just inform you that I don’t have any friends. We’re trying something different here. Something friendly. So, you can speak freely. If you want to.”

This wasn’t wrong, right? She kept trying to imagine what her grandmother had brought up, about Cynthia. And, if pressed, Charlotte would say that Cynthia was her grandmother’s only real friend. Charlotte had met many acquaintances through her grandmother, of course, some more frequently, more familiar and casual than others.

But her grandmother had been the one to truly show Charlotte that the ties made in politics were so often not genuine. That everyone had an agenda, and you could so rarely really know where you were someone else’s totem pole.

It stood to reason that the person her grandmother had actually trusted and confided in – and, in all reality, one of the people whose advice her grandmother sought – was Cynthia. An assistant that also doubled as a close friend and confidante.

No, she hadn’t imagined Sutton in that role for her when hiring her.

But the idea of it was appealing.

“I do want to,” Sutton said, softly, darting another look at Charlotte. She let out a sigh, before shrugging, as if giving in to her thoughts. “I just – I understand why you haven’t come out,” she assured Charlotte, giving her a wide-eyed, warm look.

Something… comforting. Understanding, even.

It made Charlotte feel at once peaceful and a little nervous. The softness in that look…

Sutton continued, her generous lips pulling into a frown. “I guess something I’ve been thinking about since last weekend is: if you don’t plan on coming out, what are you going to for, uh,” she blushed, deeply.

It surprised Charlotte how absurdly adorable she found that.

Sutton took a deep, heavy breath, rolling her eyes at herself. “I’m just wondering what, um, your plan is for dating.”

Incredulous amusement worked through her. “You started thinking about that from the conversation about interior design?”

An exasperated laugh escaped Sutton’s throat as she leaned in against Charlotte, jostling her with her shoulder.

Huh.

Odd.

The only person that did that to her in any recent memory was Caleb. Familiar, teasing. Friendly.

But Sutton certainly didn’t feel like Caleb. Though Charlotte slowly relaxed into the touch; she certainly didn’t dislike it.

“Not because of the interior design,” Sutton explained, rolling her eyes back at Charlotte. “I thought about it because you made the comment about your priorities. And you made it clear that – presently – your priorities also don’t include… company.”

Any reflection of embarrassment or exasperation fled, as Sutton aimed a searching, confused look in her direction. “I’m just wondering, I guess, what your plan is. Like, what about when you’re older?” She asked, before she groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t mean to sound like one of those ridiculous people that think oh, you’ll want kids when you’re older or oh, you’ll want to be married when you’re older. I believe that you can know yourself, now. That you, specifically, do know yourself. I just mean… um, clearly you do like, uh, companionship.”

Charlotte couldn’t help the smirk that slid over her face, tilting her head at Sutton. “Do go on.”

Sutton scrubbed her hands roughly over her cheeks. “Okay, I clearly don’t know how to say this correctly, without sounding like an absolute loser. But…” She inhaled, deeply, calmingly, rolling her shoulders back in an admirable show of regaining herself. “You do like… human connection… and even though you aren’t seeking it out right now, I assume you will in the future…?”

She trailed off, staring at Charlotte for confirmation.

And Charlotte nodded back, giving that confirmation. No, Charlotte didn’t intend to break her celibacy just yet. But someday – and given how sensitive her body was, how responsive, and how ridiculously, inappropriately active her subconscious was becoming, perhaps someday soon – she’d be seeking, as Sutton phrased it, human connection again.

Sutton held a puzzle piece between her fingers, sliding her fingertip over one of the edges in a movement that was entirely too mesmerizing to Charlotte, as she asked, “How do you know that you won’t want – more? And do you have a plan for that?”

Thankfully, Sutton’s question broke her out of any intensity. She looked into Sutton’s eyes, dubiously. “I won’t want more.”

Sutton’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead, as if unable to process Charlotte’s certainty.

“But what happens if you do?” She pressed. “Is there some sort of built-in failsafe in your plan?”

Charlotte scoffed out a laugh, shrugging. “I suppose that in the highly unlikely event that I fall madly in love with a woman, I have to believe that… that I’d be honest about my position from the start. And I’d have to believe she’d respect that.”

Sutton looked far more concerned by her response than Charlotte felt about it, herself. She looked far more doubtful, as well.

Charlotte reached out, unthinkingly, dropping her hand to Sutton’s thigh and squeezing comfortingly.

Okay, Sutton’s thighs were surprisingly, firmly muscular. All right then.

Dropping her hand away just as quickly, she assured Sutton, “But, Sutton, I’ve never fallen for someone, before.”

Unlike admitting she hadn’t made a fucking friend in her adult life, this admittance didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Sutton gaped. “Never?”

She laughed at the almost insulted look on Sutton’s face. “Never. It’s just not what I want.” She shook her head, amusement falling away as she held Sutton’s gaze with her own. Feeling the passion inside of her well up, the very familiar feeling when she thought about her goals, her plans.

“I’ve known what I want since I was a teenager, and I’ve been trying to make it happen since then. There’s this – this feeling, right here,” she gently pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the solid, slow, steady thrum of her own heartbeat. “That feels so peaceful. So certain. The only thing I’ve ever craved that I can’t have isn’t a person or a relationship; I crave the future. I have so many plans. So many things I want to do. And if staying single is the way to achieve these dreams, then so be it. I don’t see it as a loss. Especially not when I’m gaining so much.”

Sutton stared at her, those big, blue eyes so wide, so open. At the intensity in Sutton’s stare, she felt her heart beat a little faster.

“That’s the sort of thing I find really amazing about you,” Sutton murmured. “I mean… I think I’d be very lonely, if that were me. But that conviction is–” She drew in a deep breath, before pushing it out, shaking her head seemingly in wonder. “That’s what really gripped me, when you were campaigning. It’s why I wanted to get to know you better. To try to learn the way you see the world.”

A surprising sense of pride filled her. Alarming, almost.

“I’m happy I can live up to it.”

“You do,” Sutton was quick to assure.

Charlotte could feel how wide her smile was, even as she tried to tamp it down.

Sutton returned it, though, with her own big, brilliant grin, even as she turned – a little sheepishly – to look back down at the puzzle.

Charlotte followed suit, moving through the pieces once more before she said, “And you don’t sound like a loser. For the record.”

“Hmm?” Sutton hummed, giving Charlotte a quizzical stare.

“You asked how to discuss your philosophies on love without sounding like a loser,” Charlotte quoted back to her. “And I just want you to know that you don’t.”

She sounded a little naïve, maybe. A lot like a hopeless romantic. Far too idealistic, in Charlotte’s opinion. She could very easily see Sutton, all dreamy eyes and sweeping notions, getting caught up in a love Charlotte couldn’t even fathom.

Perhaps, though, if they were friends, Charlotte could at least give some realistic advice for Sutton, and help vet some of the men that would undoubtedly come around.

***

She’d never solved a puzzle with another person, before.

At the very least, not since her adolescence. Even back then, maybe once or twice with her grandmother and one of her nannies.

But she found over the next couple of hours that it was enjoyable, working with Sutton to solve something.

Something that put them on more even footing.

Though they’d worked together now for about six weeks, she hadn’t really had the opportunity to see how Sutton took on problem solving.

She was pleased to find that it didn’t conflict with Charlotte’s own methods.

She also found that it was a very easy and casual way to learn more about Sutton.

Like when Sutton’s phone buzzed with a text from her mom –

Sutton put down the puzzle piece in her hand, quickly sending a text back, before she offered Charlotte a small smile. “My mom just wanted to make sure that I’m not out in this weather.”

Slowly, Charlotte tilted her head at Sutton, confused and entertained by the very idea of her own mother… texting her to check in about the weather? Charlotte didn’t know the last time she’d talked to her mother. “You’re close,” she surmised.

Sutton looked at Charlotte, dead seriously, as she nodded. “Yes, very.”

As if the very idea of not being close to her mother was unimaginable.

The idea struck her, and Charlotte pondered for a moment before deciding – this was the time to ask, right? “Does she – do your parents – know that you’re staying here?”

Sutton nodded the affirmative. “Yes, the day after I arrived.”

It was only now that it dawned on Charlotte – Sutton’s parents. Their money and their connections… “Why didn’t you reach out to them for help? When you couldn’t find somewhere to stay? Surely, they could have pulled a string with someone…?”

She was certain that Jack knew someone that would have been able to accommodate Sutton in D.C.

Sutton frowned, instantly. “I don’t want to have to rely on my parents to solve my problems,” she immediately answered, before her posture deflated slightly. “I mean, I love my parents. And they do a lot for me, in terms of support. And I’m so lucky, I know that. But… I need to do things for myself.”

“I understand,” Charlotte quietly assured her.

Because… Sutton had been right, that first day they’d met for her interview. Though they were different people, the connections and privilege in their upbringings had largely been the same. And while Charlotte was appreciative of her grandmother, she didn’t want to live in her shadow or rely on her name.

Before she could elaborate on that, though, a stab of panic shot through her.

She hadn’t quite thought about this. About the implications of Sutton’s parents. Not at all, actually, and that was disquieting.

Sutton knew about her sexuality. Sutton’s father was very much embedded in her professional world. Sutton was close to her parents…

The alarm bell started ringing in the back of her mind.

“Sutton,” her throat felt a little tight. “Have you… told your parents… about…?”

God, if they knew she was not only their daughter’s boss but also a lesbian that had invited Sutton to stay with her. Her stomach twisted painfully.

There were a lot of implications there, and none of it good.

Sutton shot her a confused look, before the dawning landed. “No!” She vehemently shook her head. “No, I haven’t said anything about your sexuality or anything personal you’ve told me. To them or anyone.”

There was a firm, honest truth to her tone. Something undoubtable.

Something that – miraculously – Charlotte felt calmed by.

There wasn’t an inch of deceit in Sutton Spencer’s body, she decided, and that was the thing about her that felt so… grounding.

***

“Dinner’s here,” Charlotte announced, glancing down at her phone at the alert.

Sutton looked ready to hop right up, dropping the piece of the puzzle she’d been holding. “I can go–”

Charlotte placed a hand on Sutton’s shoulder, firmly, making sure she stayed where she was, while also using it to help leverage herself to stand up. She braced her hands on her lower back, stretching and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh as she did so.

“You might want to have a stretch, yourself, after we’ve been hunched over doing this puzzle, though,” she advised, straightening back out.

Sutton was looking up at here, blue eyes dark and wide. “I… ah. Okay,” she breathed back. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I should – I mean, I’m the assistant. I should go get the food.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “All right, if there’s something that’s going to make me feel more like a dictator, it’s you believing that I would refuse to pick up dinner when we’re off the clock.”

When she heard her phone buzzing, she assumed it was the delivery driver.

But when she picked it up, she could see that it was Caleb, Facetiming her.

“I’ll be right back,” she informed Sutton, starting to walk down the hall toward her apartment door. She’d need to go down to the lobby to meet the driver, as one of the security rules for the building was not to give any delivery personnel access codes to the elevator.

When she was far enough away, she answered Caleb’s call. “Yes?”

Her brother frowned at her. “Yes? What kind of greeting is that for your favorite brother?”

“Charlotte? Did you say something?” Sutton called from the living room.

Charlotte stumbled in her stride. Just as she arrived at the door, too. She should have fucking waited another few seconds before answering.

“No,” she called back, quickly, before she left the apartment.

She kept her phone pressed against her shoulder, rather than let Caleb see the self-flagellating look on her face.

“Who was that!” Caleb’s voice called out, loud and insistent. “What woman is in your apartment?! You little–”

Sharply, Charlotte looked around to make sure no one else was in the hall, before she lifted her phone back up and hissed, “Shut up. I’m not in my apartment, anymore, so watch whatever you say very carefully.”

Caleb was undeterred, an excitement on his face. Still he kept his voice down. “Who is there?!”

“It’s just–” Ugh. “It’s just Sutton. We’re having dinner.”

“Sutton,” he repeated with a whisper. “Sutton. Your gorgeous assistant. While you’re wearing casual clothing. In your apartment. Charlotte!”

She stabbed the button on the elevator with more force then need be, but she was wishing it was her brother’s shoulder; he was a baby whenever she jabbed him sharply. It was satisfying. “The weather is abysmal,” she grit out.

“And your event tonight got cancelled, yeah, Dean told me. Which was why I was calling. I thought you’d be all alone.” He was entirely too gleeful.

She glared at him as she stepped onto the elevator. “People can have friendships,” she sniffed. “Even with their assistants.”

“Uh, sure, maybe. People can. But you?” He challenged, barking out a laugh. “Having a friendship with a beautiful, young–”

“Sutton is two years younger than I am. Don’t try to make this scandalous,” she cut him off, leveling him with a look.

There was a reason she hadn’t told Caleb that Sutton was staying with her, even though she’d texted both him and Dean multiple times this week. Because she knew her brother would get the absolutely wrong, inappropriate idea. An idea Charlotte didn’t need or want existing out in the world.

“Me? I’m making this scandalous?” He parroted, incredulously. “You’re the one–”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. “I have to go and grab dinner.” She gave him a steely glare. “I’ll see you back in the city, and I won’t be answering any calls until then. Bye.”

With that, she hung up.

Because – no.

She was enjoying this. She was tentatively letting herself enjoy having something resembling a friendship with Sutton.

Her attraction for Sutton was entirely moot, as were her dreams.

In fact, the dreams were almost funny; she imagined how scandalized Sutton would be – so… sweet. So innocent – if she even had a hint about being the star of a lesbian sex dream. Almost.

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