Guilty as Sin - chapter 18 (Patreon)

I think it makes more sense to post this today rather than tomorrow. A little Sutton and Charlotte for a pre-Valentine's Day celebration...

--------Guilty as Sin---------

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte was trying very hard in this moment to not act like her world had been completely rocked.

Which was difficult, because it had, in fact, been completely rocked.

She’d come so hard the first time – like, had been made completely unaware of reality, awash in pleasure to the point that she couldn’t even hear anything else – she’d been forced to wonder if it was some sort of fluke.

After all, she’d had a very active sex life for over a decade, and had gone cold-turkey for a year.

For all she knew, any woman – that she was attracted to, who had a clue what she was doing, of course – could make her come like that.

… and then she and Sutton had fucked again.

And again.

And now, hours later, she was forced to admit: it wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t like the cork had popped, and everything after had been subpar. Not even close to subpar.

Even now, after they’d dragged themselves from the bed and come downstairs for sustenance, she still felt her thigh quake and could feel herself clench slightly from the lingering sensation of her last orgasm. In which she’d come into Sutton’s mouth, gasping, as Sutton’s blue eyes had stared up her body.

God.

Yep, there was that clenching again. Honestly, she was getting a little sore, so she really needed to cool it for a little while. Hence the putting on clothing and coming downstairs for a break.

She blew out a long, shaky exhale.

Physically, she needed a little break.

Mentally – emotionally – she wasn’t sure what she needed.

“I should have checked on the generator,” she muttered, tsking at herself as she approached the living area.

She’d done her best to preserve the chill in the fridge, having mentally prepared to take everything she needed out as quickly as possible. But… yeah, that generator was going to be an issue if the power remained a problem into tomorrow.

And then she came to a pause, not having really connected the dots to what she was seeing.

Namely, that she was seeing light that wasn’t coming from the flashlights on their phones.

“You got the fireplace to work,” she stated the obvious.

Sutton was kneeling in front of said fireplace, and was carefully poking at it with the iron. When she seemed satisfied, she nodded, and carefully shifted back. “I told you I would,” she pointed out, looking up at Charlotte in amusement.

“You did,” she agreed. “But – given that the switch to start it is controlled by the electric panel – I didn’t think you were going to have much luck.”

Sutton reeled back, looking insulted. “Did you really think that I was going to try to flick the electric switch when the power is out?”

“We’ve both had our minds blown a bit in the last few hours; I wasn’t holding it against you,” she teased.

And, frankly, she hadn’t really thought about it.

Sutton had made mention of the fire, and Charlotte had gone over to the kitchen, entirely focused on her own task, on her own thoughts.

Sutton’s cheeks colored slightly, even as she rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I won’t let myself be insulted.” Her gaze drifted down to where Charlotte had placed food on the table, before those blue eyes widened. “Especially if you don’t take insult at the fact that I’m very impressed by how this looks.”

Charlotte, too, glanced at the charcuterie she’d put together, taking a little bit of pride in the presentation she’d accomplished. Still, she wryly looked back at Sutton, “Sure. I will refrain from being insulted by you being surprised that I can put together a decent-looking spread of already prepared food.”

Sutton smiled up at her, bright and sweet, and Charlotte felt winded by that smile. Blinded by it, even, as her heart fluttered in her chest.

Looking away, she cleared her throat. “Ah, I will let you know that putting together already-prepared dishes truly is the extent of the majority of my culinary knowledge.”

Sutton laughed, and the sound if it made Charlotte shiver. “Um, yes, Charlotte. I’ve spent about sixty hours a week with you for months; I am well aware.”

She felt herself swallow tightly at that reminder. Of how much time they’d spent together. Of Sutton being her assistant.

Granted, Sutton had announced that she was quitting, obviously. Which made Charlotte want to feel sick for a completely different reason.

Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head. Just once, vigorously, clearing her mind.

“We should eat,” she said, gesturing down at the table. “Can’t let my fabulous charcuterie go to waste. Especially because who knows when we should open the fridge again?”

Sutton nodded, glancing out the large windows to her left.

It was dark out now not because of the clouds but because they’d been upstairs in bed long enough for the sun to have set. So visibility wasn’t great.

Still, Sutton’s bottom lip poked out in a contemplative pout. “I think that the wind and the rain are calming down a little bit. So there’s that.”

Charlotte glanced out the window for the first time, herself.

Honestly, she could have cared less about the weather in the wake of Sutton’s arrival. She had far bigger fish to fry, way more important things that wanted to come barging into her mind now.

But Sutton was right. The storm wasn’t raging and angry anymore, as far as she could tell. The power would likely come back on soon.

Charlotte wasn’t even sure she wanted the power to return tonight. Tonight, being with Sutton in the cabin felt surreal. And having the lights not on for it, having Sutton only bathed in the light from the fireplace, it only added to this feeling.

Like they were completely removed from reality. Like they didn’t need to be concerned with anyone or anything else, if they were here, under the cover of darkness. No electricity bringing them to the light.

Shaking her head, she sat on the couch, sitting cross-legged on the wide, comfortable cushion. “For drinks, you may have noticed, we have water and wine.”

“Quite the selection,” Sutton joked, as she sat next to her. She tilted her head, before nodding decisively. “I’ll have a glass of wine.”

“Excellent choice.” Charlotte leaned forward, taking both of the wine glasses from the tray, before offering one to Sutton, and taking a sip from one herself.

Sutton sipped, staring at Charlotte over the rim. Those crystal clear blue eyes were piercing, especially in this lighting, and – god, not the clenching again.

Sutton lowered her glass, licking her lips slowly. “It is an excellent choice.”

Because, of course, Sutton wasn’t deliberately teasing her. She was tasting the wine.

Sutton didn’t need to tease her right now. She could simply… have her.

“You already poured two glasses, though?” Sutton asked, glancing from hers to Charlotte’s.

“Mm,” she hummed. “If you didn’t have yours, I’d have had them both.”

A smile flit over Sutton’s face. “Other than Caleb’s birthday, I’ve never seen you have more than one glass.”

“Yes, well, I’m on a break from reality this weekend. I can have all the wine I want.” And she’d made sure the cabin was prepared for her arrival in that respect, far more diligently than she’d prepared the generator.

Sutton leaned forward to grab a cheese cube from the tray, and Charlotte momentarily found herself mesmerized, staring at her.

Sutton was wearing her clothes.

Obviously, because she’d arrived at the cabin with nothing other than herself in a sopping wet outfit and a brazen personality.

Charlotte had never admired someone in her own clothing before.

She chuckled to herself as she sipped at her own wine. No woman had ever worn her clothing before, because if they’d tried, she’d have believed they were certifiable. If any woman she’d slept with before had slipped on Charlotte’s clothing while they were getting a glass of water or something, she’d have either ended the night there or – if she deemed that they truly had no other notions about what that might mean – she’d take it right back off of them.

But not right now.

Her long-sleeved shirt wasn’t the best fit on Sutton, really. It did fit, but it was older and worn in from Charlotte, and Sutton was taller and leaner than she was. And the end result was entirely too appealing.

Clearing her throat, she took another sip of her wine and gestured to the fire. “Where did these hidden survival skills come from?”

Sutton finished chewing the cheese, meat, and cracker mini-sandwich she’d made for herself, glancing between the fireplace and Charlotte. “Survival skills?” She echoed, laughter in her voice. “I would hardly call lighting a fire survival skills, not when I was able to use the matches that were on the mantle. Now, if I’d done it from scratch, yes.”

She waved her hand. “If it had been up to me, I’d have just used the blankets and my phone’s flashlight and waited for the power to return. So.”

Sutton arched her a look. “What would you have done when the flashlight on your phone went out?”

Shrugging, Charlotte blew out a breath. “Decided to go to bed, I suppose.”

Sutton was very clearly amused, but she didn’t needle Charlotte further. Instead she said, “The answer is: my parents. When we went away, our cabin wasn’t like this…” She trailed off, looking around them at the high arched ceiling and large windows and modern finished that were simply styled to look rustic.

Utterly intrigued, she asked, “What did that look like, then?”

Though she knew a lot about Sutton’s life, most of her knowledge was about Sutton’s current, adult life. And even though they were… friends… Charlotte still rarely took the initiative of asking Sutton questions about things that had no possible correlation to work or whatever it was that they were discussing.

Because she’d always kept herself cognizant of their respective jobs.

She certainly didn’t often ask about Sutton’s parents because that felt like this entire other minefield in her brain. Sutton’s parents who were adjacent to Charlotte’s world. Who were in Charlotte’s world.

She quelled those thoughts as she chewed on another cheese cube. Because those “boundaries” she’d worked to maintain were really shot to hell now, weren’t they? She’d just made Sutton Spencer come in her mouth, on her fingers, she’d kissed and nipped and licked all over her body.

Sutton shrugged, a thoughtful but very peaceful expression on her face. “We didn’t get away often, as a whole family unit. My dad’s schedule has always been very busy, and there’s over a twelve year age gap between Oliver and Ethan, so by the time we were going on trips that Ethan could enjoy and partake in, Oliver was going to college. But we’d go skiing a lot. And sometimes just… away. Up to the mountains, to a lake. Away from the city.”

She deeply enjoyed that expression on Sutton’s face, she found. Her heart flip-flopped from it. Something so happy and serene. She’d very much like for Sutton to have that feeling all of the time.

Sutton, blissfully unaware of Charlotte’s internal thoughts, let out a sweet little sigh. “And if we were getting away, then my parents wanted us to really be getting away. Unplugging. If we were watching tv, then we were going to be doing it in the evening and as a family. No video games. Nothing internet-based. No sitting around on phones.”

Charlotte scoffed, darkly, as she feigned a shudder. Admittedly, it wasn’t difficult to feign. “That sounds… nice. If you enjoyed spending so much time with your family, I suppose.”

It didn’t sound nice to Charlotte, not at all. God, she couldn’t imagine being a teenager and having been stuck somewhere with her brothers and parents without anything to use as a distraction. Whenever they’d gone anywhere “as a family” – a rarity – it had never been to a remote cabin for bonding time.

They’d go on luxury vacations, where everyone was off doing their own thing.

“It was nice,” Sutton confirmed. “And we never stayed anywhere with electric fireplaces. But we did have big fires outside at night, and I was my dad’s preferred helper, thank you very much.”

“I can imagine that,” she conceded.

And she could, very clearly. She could see little Sutton being very proud about being a useful helper, and the mental image was utterly adorable.

Even with the fire that Sutton had gotten started, there was a chill in the air, and Charlotte pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down, tugging it over her shoulders.

She caught Sutton’s eye as she adjusted the blanket, her arm up as she was tugging the blanket down, and then realized this was the only blanket she’d brought down this morning, in preparation for her evening here. The evening she’d planned for alone.

She was about to offer to get another one, but the words zipped away from her vocabulary when Sutton simply slid over, pressing herself right up against Charlotte.

Even though she was taller by several inches, she scooched down enough so that her shoulders were tucked under Charlotte’s arm. She curled into Charlotte’s side so easily, as if – as if she’d done it a million times before. As if she just knew that she’d fit so well against her.

Which, she did.

Charlotte slowly lowered her arm around Sutton, encasing her under the blanket as well. Getting used to the warm weight of Sutton against her.

For several long moments, they just… stayed there. Silently. Letting the fire crackle in the quiet between them.

Sutton felt good.

She smelled good.

And she fit perfectly against Charlotte, something that Charlotte really couldn’t stop thinking about.

It made her stomach quiver with nerves, the anxiety nipping at her in small bites, trying to remind her that it existed and it wasn’t going away. She wondered if Sutton could feel how her heartbeat started pounding a little faster, with how close they were.

Still, though, she turned her head slightly, so she could inhale the scent of Sutton’s hair. God, after so long of not being able to be this close to her, not having to stop herself from doing something like that felt so damn good.

Freeing.

How was it possible to feel so good and so not-good at the same time?

Sutton murmured, “I can feel you thinking, you know.”

There was something so soft in her tone. Not rebuking, not quite teasing, but maybe a little bit of both. Gently, too, like she was hand-holding Charlotte into this intimacy between them.

Charlotte heaved a sigh, reaching the hand of the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Sutton up to rub at her eyes. “Yes. It’s an affliction I’ve been affected by my entire life. Thinking too much.”

Sutton didn’t move right away. She felt Sutton take a long inhale, before she leaned up just enough to be able to turn and look at Charlotte, studying her face.

Sutton asked, “Is it the cuddling?”

She gestured to the few inches that were now between them, but hadn’t been only moments before, and it was only then that it hit Charlotte.

They’d been cuddling.

Jesus, that was what that was!

She blinked widely at Sutton for several beats, taking that in. Cuddling.

“I – that’s a part of it, yes,” she acknowledged. Because she wasn’t going to lie to Sutton. Especially not now. They were far beyond that, now.

Sutton frowned slightly, nodding as she seemed to let that land inside of her. “Okay. I… I guess it’s really different for, um, us. Because of our relationship dynamic and–”

Charlotte reached out, lightly pressing her fingertips to Sutton’s lips. Mostly because she wanted to feel the softness of them, and because she could. Right here, right now, sequestered from everyone else in the world, she could.

“It’s not because of our… dynamic. It’s because,” she paused, looking into Sutton’s eyes, hoping Sutton could do that thing she’d become so incredible at over these last several months, where she could just understand her. “Sutton, I’ve never done this with anyone.”

She could tell that, at first, what she was saying did not compute to Sutton.

And she could see in the way her eyes widened, and her head tilted in confusion the moment the dawning hit her.

“You’ve never cuddled with someone?” Incredulity dripped from her voice. “But you’ve…”

She trailed off, her cheeks turning adorably pink for someone who’d made Charlotte come so hard she was still feeling the effects of it.

“Fucking someone does not equate to cuddling,” she pointed out, wryly.

“In my world, it does. Or, it should,” Sutton’s frown was etched into her expression as she slightly shook her head, like the idea of sex without any softer intimacy was just so incredibly unappealing to her.

Yet another reason to add to the column of why the two of them didn’t make sense. Not only because of their jobs, not only because of Charlotte’s closeted status, but because – fundamentally – they were so different.

She lifted her eyebrows at Sutton, as she explained, “You see, normally, if a woman I’d just slept with said that to me, I’d be heading for the door already.”

Sutton was silent, staring at her, and Charlotte could see the uncertainty creeping in on her expression, even before she asked, “But… not with me?”

“No,” she confirmed, quietly, stroking her hand over Sutton’s jawline.

She was going to allow herself every touch she’d thought about over the last few months. For tonight, she might as well.

And, god, it felt so fucking good. It made her nerve-endings sing, like her senses were rejoicing because they knew that they were touching Sutton.

“Not with you,” she murmured, feeling that terrified tingle in the pit of her stomach, as she slowly lowered her hand back to her lap.

Terrified or not, she couldn’t imagine telling Sutton that she didn’t have these softer, vulnerable feelings for her. Not only because it was a lie, but because she couldn’t imagine causing Sutton the kind of stinging pain that would make her feel.

“And… not just because there’s a storm outside?” Sutton asked, an edge of humor in her voice, even as it mixed with the insecurity there.

A laugh bubbled up inside of her. “Correct.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, as she curled her hands into fists in her lap. Gathering her courage to say, “Sutton, you are the only woman that has ever been so… well, darling to me.”

It was scary to admit something like that. Both to Sutton and even aloud to herself.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever been with who wasn’t a one-night stand,” she pressed, holding Sutton’s gaze with her own.

Yes, she’d essentially said this to Sutton before. Sutton knew this about her.

But it was different, wasn’t it? When Sutton knew this about her as a theoretical truth, rather than knowing it in this very personal manner, now.

And she found that she really wanted Sutton to understand the gravity of this for her. Not only because of the work aspects, but because of who Charlotte was.

“The only reason I want to know last names of women I have sex with is to make sure they’re spelled correctly on the NDA,” she stated, her lips quirking into a small, not-very-humorous smile.

Because for the first time, she was hearing that from Sutton’s perspective.

Charlotte wasn’t ashamed of her sex life; everything she’d ever partaken in was safe and consensual.

But it was in no way what Sutton wanted from a partner, or what Sutton would ever seek out from someone. In fact, Charlotte was certain that if she’d met Sutton as one of her one-night-stand prospects, she’d have been very much not into what Charlotte would have offered her.

Sutton’s eyes were on her, deep and intense, taking in every word Charlotte said.

She dug her hands into her thighs until she felt a slight ache, but it gave her the push to admit, “And I’m terrified.”

Sutton turned to look at her more fully, searchingly. “Terrified?” She echoed, seeming baffled by Charlotte. “Of… me?” She pointed at herself.

“Yes,” she breathed out, doing everything she could to contain the tremor that wanted to work out of her throat and into her words. “Right now, at this moment, I feel like I’m at a crossroads, and both options are less than ideal.”

Drawing in a long, deep breath, she hoped it would help calm her. Help her rationalize these concerns eating at her.

It didn’t.

So, she pushed through it.

“On one hand, there’s the unknown.” She gestured between them. “There’s the cuddling. And the fact that you make me feel things I’ve never felt, and I don’t know what to do with those feelings. And with that, comes all of the other unknowns. The… nexts.”

What happens next? Where did they go from here? There would always be a next step, and Charlotte – frankly – had no idea what that could look like in her personal life.

Sutton’s eyes were so luminous, staying focused on Charlotte, not straying for a single moment. Taking in everything she said, until she paused, and Sutton asked quietly, “What’s on the other hand?”

Charlotte felt her breath leave her in a rush, felt her heart pound, and anxiety zipped through her in a way she simply never felt. Along with it, she felt emotional. Like, unduly, ridiculously emotional. Nervous and sad and overwhelmed by it.

Or, she could be overwhelmed, if she allowed herself to.

And amidst it, was Sutton.

Who was staring at her, patiently. Understandingly. Waiting.

“On the other hand, I – I don’t know that I can let you go,” the confession left her in an unexpectedly anguished exhale. “Especially now. I already felt that way before tonight, before we crossed this line. But now, I…”

She trailed off, unable to figure out how to put it into words any more than she already had.

That sentence, that sentiment, shouldn’t feel so big – so humongous, so altering – but it did. She didn’t know how to let Sutton go. She didn’t want to not have Sutton at her side as her assistant. She certainly didn’t want to not have Sutton in her life at all.

Sutton pulled Charlotte into her, and Charlotte went willingly.

She tucked her head against Sutton in a way that, absurdly, made her feel like Sutton was the one in charge, here. Like Sutton was the one protecting her somehow, as she felt Sutton stroke her hands through her hair. Those long, dexterous fingers soothing her in a touch Charlotte had never in her life experienced. She’d had massages, but those were never personal. And she’d been touched sexually, but never so softly.

It felt so good.

She felt like she could melt right into Sutton, right here, right now. Like… like maybe she could – maybe she should – just allow herself to fall into Sutton’s touch and let her carry some of the weight on her shoulders.

And that thought scared the hell out of her, hitting her just as the lights flickered and came back on.

Which – was great.

Charlotte used it as a reason to pull back from Sutton, to pull herself back together.

But, hell, they’d just had sex for the first time, and she was melting into Sutton like that, feeling like Sutton was going to help her carry any burdens?

That… that wasn’t Charlotte. And she wasn’t ready to meet whoever that was.

She reached up and rubbed her hands over her face, uncharacteristically embarrassed to look at her while she felt like this. To face her after baring some of her soul.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, rolling her lips tightly. “I have no idea why I just was so…”

Emotional? What should she even say to describe herself?

She forced herself to woman up and look at Sutton directly, and there was no judgment. Not that she’d ever expect Sutton to judge her, not really, but even more than that, there was an understanding.

An understanding that Charlotte wasn’t even sure she understood right now, about herself.

But… somehow Sutton seemed to. Somehow.

“I don’t want you to let me go,” Sutton said, a quiet strength in her voice. A determination.

Charlotte swallowed hard at the words, but decided not to follow them down any other emotional or anxiety-inducing rabbit hole.

“But you’re quitting.” She sat up a little straighter, hope sparking through her. “Are you not doing that anymore?”

She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but desperately hoping Sutton would take it back.

At the same time, she needed Sutton to hold firm to it.

Fuck, she’d never been so torn in her life. She’d never had things both make no sense at all but also have everything make complete sense at the same time.

She was not a fan.

“I am,” Sutton didn’t hesitate, and Charlotte deflated all over again, even as she was relieved. “But… don’t completely, entirely let me go, Charlotte. It is that simple.”

She stared at Sutton, and tried to will herself to believe that. She wanted to believe it, so fucking badly.

But, “There’s nothing simple about this, Sutton,” she refuted, softly. Needing to keep in touch with reality for both of their sakes.

For her entire life up to this point, she’d thought very little of her sexuality as a barrier to her ambition. She’d really never cared. Never let herself care about someone like this, and because of her admittedly single-minded ambition, it hadn’t been difficult.

“Even if we continue this…” She trailed off.

Because that was just it – she didn’t know. She didn’t know what that looked like, and neither did Sutton.

“What if you did come out?” Sutton asked, quietly. She quickly shook her head, darting her eyes up to Charlotte’s. “And I’m not asking you to; this isn’t about us or me or anything like that. It’s just the hypothetical question. I mean… you’re already an elected official. And we live in New York. I know that the circumstances with Naomi – well, publicly, it seemed contentious.”

Charlotte scoffed, thinking about Naomi. Contentious was one way to put it. Mildly.

And then she focused on Sutton, and how much she wanted to tell Sutton about it. How much she wanted to share with Sutton not just the facts that everyone had, but her – her feelings about her congressional election, and any scoff died where it lay on her lips.

Especially at that questioning, earnest expression Sutton wore, as she continued, “I guess I’m just wondering if you think it really would be so terrible right now, to come out?”

Charlotte bit at her cheek, before answering honestly, “No. Right now, I don’t think it would be.”

Because it was, obviously, something she’d thought about many, many times. Not only throughout the election process, but since then. Since… meeting Sutton.

“But,” she muttered, those thoughts cutting off where they always did: right at the knees. “It’s not about my career right now,” she emphasized. “Being re-elected in Manhattan is – not very much of a risk,” she agreed, locking eyes with Sutton as she felt her stomach twist with the unfortunate reality.

Sutton was locked in on her, so focused that if Charlotte allowed herself, she could very easily get swept away.

She did her best to stay on track. “It’s the Dean of it all.”

Sutton blinked, leaning back slightly in obvious confusion, at what might seem like a non-sequitur. “Dean?”

“Yes. Dean. Dean, being gay, and low-key, but still out. And where he is, what he’s accomplished, is amazing,” she acknowledged, because it was. “But he and I both know that if he wanted to climb higher, it would be uphill. It would bring a lot more scrutiny, would take a lot more strategy. He doesn’t want that, and he’s fulfilled being where he’s at. Doing what he’s doing, at the level he’s doing it at.”

Which wasn’t nothing, and Charlotte very well knew that. She was genuinely grateful for his position in their city.

“But that’s not what I want.” And there was the crux of it all.

Charlotte had her hands in her lap, fingers laced together, in a way that was typical for her to sit especially when she was with Sutton. She had to always be aware of where her hands were, when she was with Sutton. She didn’t know when it had started, but she’d found herself always wanting to touch her, and had found – most alarmingly – that it felt so natural whenever she did.

In this moment, though, she didn’t have to hold herself back. Not here. Not tonight.

She reached out, stroking her fingertips up the backs of Sutton’s hands, feeling the soft skin under her touch.

It almost made her feel crazy, because of what she was about to say:

“How many women presidents have we had?” She asked, tilting her head at Sutton, waiting for her to answer what they both knew.

Sutton indulged her, answering softly, “Just the one.”

“And how many gay presidents have we had?”

“Openly…?” Sutton asked, the corners of her lips ticking up into a small, cajoling smile, something that offered a little bit of lightness.

And it was that, both the lightness and these moments where Sutton said something that took her by surprise, that had Charlotte interlocking their fingers, squeezing them in joking reproach. It had Charlotte simply… yearning.

Yearning for the woman that she’d just had sex with. Just cuddled with. Who was sitting right in front of her, holding her hands.

Wasn’t that insane, she wondered? To feel this intensity, this longing for someone right in front of her?

“Yes, darling. Openly gay.” She flexed her hands again, simply reveling in the touch.

The smile slipped off of Sutton’s lips back into the seriousness of the moment as she answered, somewhat rhetorically, “None.”

“Right. As of this moment in time, there has been a single woman president. There have been zero openly gay presidents. And I’m both. It’s already going to be difficult enough to climb higher; I need it not to be impossible.”

She held Sutton’s gaze with her own, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.

“I’m never going to be someone that’s thinking about my career right now, Sutton. Day in and day out, while I’m at work, literally in the moment? Sure,” that was true. “But even then, in the back of my mind, I’m not thinking about how that decision is going to play out tomorrow. I’m not thinking about what I’m doing to get to the next meeting.”

She could even see it now in the web of her mind, as if it were a chess board.

When she made a choice, when she moved a piece on the board, she wasn’t playing for that next move. She saw the hundreds of possible moves that could come after that, and then after that. Every move she made, from the opening salvo, would matter once she got to the other side of the board, and she was always doing her best to make sure every single one counted.

“So, even if the possibility of coming out seems relatively small to my position right now,” she gently stroked her thumb over the soft skin of Sutton’s knuckles, unable to stop herself. “The reality is that it’s not about right now; it’s about the big picture. It’s about what the future landscape is going to look like.”

And for the first time in her life, regret ate at her.

That this was her life, this was her path.

But she couldn’t change it; she couldn’t change who she was. She didn’t even want to; she wanted everyone else to change. She wanted the circumstances to change. She wanted society to change, not her.

And she had to believe that Sutton wouldn’t want her to either. She supposed that she wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that her dogged determination and drive was a part of the reason Sutton had developed feelings for her.

So that she wouldn’t have to hate that part of herself when it came down to this.

“I understand that,” Sutton said, after a few moments beat by.

She was looking down at their hands, her eyebrows furrowed and focused, and Charlotte appreciated that Sutton really seemed to have taken several seconds to consider what she’d said, instead of simply accepting it immediately.

“Let’s table that, then. Just for this weekend,” Sutton suggested, lifting her gaze to meet Charlotte’s. “Let’s just… be. Together. We’re already here. What’s already done is done. And, for another day, we can not let anything outside of this cabin matter. Everything else is going to come after, anyway. We might as well enjoy our time right now.”

It sounded like both heaven and hell. Heaven for the weekend, heaven for the immediacy. The uncertainty, the wondering, the unknown of what to do after? Impossibly terrible.

But what else could they do? They’d already had sex. Sutton seemed firm in her decision to quit. They were here, right now.

And right now…

Charlotte used their interlaced fingers to pull Sutton forward, catching her off guard. Delighting in the way Sutton fell into her, pressing her down onto the couch.

Delighted in feeling Sutton’s body against hers, the way Sutton slotted so easily in against her.

“I would very much like to enjoy you, now.”

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