Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  After all, given who Charlotte was in terms of family status and her own political designs at the moment . . . it made sense.

  But it was – weird. She froze again, even as she gamely tried to keep the uncertain smile on her face. The cameras flashing and the general sounds happening made everything feel a little jumbled.

  Her body relaxed slightly when Charlotte squeezed at her waist. She could feel in the touch that it was there for comfort and it worked.

  No, she wasn’t used to this but it was sort of thrilling in a way. In a way that made her flush a bit in excitement, her smile easing. She was here with Charlotte Thompson, who was the most gorgeous woman she’d probably ever met, with her arm around her.

  She was still grateful, though, when Charlotte started to guide them up the stairs, murmuring, “Sorry. I should have warned you it can be somewhat of a mad house.”

  Though she was still blinking away the last of the flashes still going off behind her eyes, Sutton shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Yeah, I was surprised, but it was . . . sort of interesting.”

  Charlotte lifted an eyebrow at her and Sutton saw the small questioning smile on her face as they entered the ornate entryway. “Yeah?”

  Sutton handed her jacket to an attendant, biting her lip in uncertainty as she looked at Charlotte. “As long as you don’t mind, um, then it was kind of nice.”

  Especially when Charlotte’s arm around her had felt safe.

  The bit of nerves in her stomach buzzed as Charlotte’s look seemed to minutely pause, all of the little tells Sutton had learned seeming to be closed off.

  “No. I don’t mind.” Her voice was soft before she cleared her throat. “After all, you’re a brilliant and beautiful woman. Anyone would be lucky to be associated with you.”

  She would give almost anything to be able to know exactly what was on Charlotte’s mind in those moments. Still, she let it go as Charlotte’s hand landed on her lower back, guiding her down toward the party. It was impossible to not feel a pleasant warmth at the touch.

  Her eyes widened as they entered the main hall, taking in what she could only describe as splendor. “Wow. This looks – amazing. Even more amazing than it ever does during the day. Do you think the new exhibit on French Modernism is up?”

  Charlotte murmured, “I have it on good authority that it will be open to the public next week.”

  As they approached the doorway she felt Charlotte’s hand fall from her lower back, and she had to bite back her disappointment; it was just . . . colder.

  Which, she told herself, was silly. Because it wasn’t as if she could expect those touches throughout the night. Not like they’d done at her family’s party. They didn’t need to work as a team here, Charlotte didn’t need her by her side in this crowd. She’d known going into this that Charlotte would probably go off to socialize on her own throughout the night.

  And that was okay, even though Regan’s words from earlier echoed, unbidden, in her head.

  “Come on.” Charlotte easily pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m going to introduce you to my grandmother before I get swept up in any business talk.”

  Her eyes widened – now that was an effective way to get Sutton to stop overthinking. “What? Now?”

  Charlotte lifted an eyebrow at her, amusement written all over her face. “I thought you wanted to meet her?”

  An anxious excitement settled heavily in her stomach. “I do,” she was quick to reassure, because who wouldn’t? “It’s just, well, I’m sure she’s probably busy, and has so many other people to talk to right now. I mean, the night’s only just beginning; there must be tons of people here who are vying to talk to her.”

  Sutton wasn’t one to typically be nervous around powerful people. But this was different.

  “You’re not wrong. But you have quite the advantage over everyone else here.” Charlotte tossed a wink at her as they weaved through the crowd. “Me.”

  The words – you have me – delighted her even as she wondered how much of Charlotte she really had.

  There was no time to ruminate on that when Charlotte was leading her over to where Elizabeth was standing, drink in hand, staring critically at the older man speaking to her.

  He was someone Sutton didn’t recognize and as if reading her mind, Charlotte leaned in to tell her, “Maxwell Tatro. He’s an up-and-coming architect in the city.” Her eyes met Sutton, twinkling with mischief. “Grandmother isn’t exactly a fan.”

  Getting this seemingly inside scoop from Charlotte made her relax a bit more. It was a strange sort of pride; pride in how much Charlotte knew, who she knew, all of the ins and outs of this world that she was determined to figure out.

  She took a deep breath as they approached one of the most powerful women in the world, keeping her amused expression in check as Charlotte swept in and interrupted Maxwell with a smile so disarmingly charming anyone would be enthralled by it.

  As he walked away, Charlotte’s smile went from calculatedly appealing to one of pure warmth. The admiration in her eyes was clear as day as she looked at her grandmother, with a rare expression free of pretense. And Charlotte in return received a look full of pride.

  It was actually pretty heartwarming and Sutton found herself smiling, even as nerves skittered up her spine when Charlotte turned to her.

  “And this is my friend, Sutton Spencer,” she tilted her head a bit, inclining toward Elizabeth, and Sutton thought that Charlotte looked a little excited herself.

  She shifted her gaze to Elizabeth and her stomach dipped again as they came face to face. She was giving her a critical look, questioning almost, the expression that had been there only moments before when she’d been looking at her granddaughter completely gone.

  “Right. Your friend,” Elizabeth muttered, cutting an indecipherable look to Charlotte. For only a moment, though, before she tilted her head and beckoned Sutton to come closer. “So, you’re the Spencer girl.”

  Despite the butterflies in her stomach, her hand was steady when she offered it. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth gave her hand a firm shake, still giving her that considering look. “The woman who likes my granddaughter so much, your parents invited her to that elusive party that I myself have never been invited to.”

  Her cheeks burned and before she could even stutter over her response, Charlotte shot a look at Elizabeth, hissing, “Grandmother!”

  If anything, Elizabeth looked more satisfied than chastised, as she continued, “I don’t know why you’re blushing when it’s my granddaughter who likes you enough to have attended.”

  Even though she could still feel that she was blushing, she had to bite her lip to attempt to stop her pleased smile. If Charlotte’s grandmother thought she liked her all that much . . . well, the butterflies in her stomach seemed to bump up just a bit.

  “Grandmother,” Charlotte gritted out.

  Looking at Charlotte killed some of those butterflies. Charlotte certainly wasn’t smiling; in fact, if the tense, rigid way she had her jaw clenched was any indication as to how she was feeling, it was decidedly not good.

  She kept her smile plastered on, though, because . . . what was she supposed to say to that?

  She certainly didn’t expect Elizabeth to narrow her eyes at Sutton, as if reading her inside and out, before turning to Charlotte. “The Lancaster girl, the socialite, arrived while you were outside. You may want to talk to her before she gets swept up by someone else.”

  Her tone was both firm and encouraging, and it was easy for Sutton to imagine the many years of mentorship. Easy to imagine a young Charlotte eagerly taking her grandmother’s direction.

  Charlotte shot her an unreadable look before she turned back to her grandmother. “I’m sure I’ll manage later.”

  Elizabeth gave a placid smile that was deceptively sweet. “You don’t want to squander your time at events like these. Give me a moment to get to know your friend.”

  Sutton was beginning to feel like she was witnessing
something she wasn’t supposed to see when the two women in front of her made and maintained eye contact. They didn’t say a word but she swore there was an entire conversation in that look. It was a mastery of silent communication, and she would have marveled at it if it didn’t make her anxious.

  She wasn’t so certain she wanted to be the sole focus of that look. Especially when she could see that Charlotte clearly didn’t want her to be here alone with her grandmother, either.

  She didn’t know if she should be grateful that Charlotte was looking out for her or worried that Charlotte had planned on introducing her to her grandmother but didn’t want her to actually talk with her.

  Refusing the urge to shuffle her feet, she cleared her throat to get their attention. “I can make myself busy. It’s clearly a busy night for you – the both of you. I don’t want to take up your time when there are so many other people here hoping for the same opportunity.”

  She had no idea what to make of that considering gleam in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You stay. You, go.” She nodded pointedly across the room.

  Charlotte took a deep breath and shook her head before searching out Sutton’s gaze. “I’ll find you, later.”

  The words were soft and imploring, despite being a statement rather than a question. That confusing but endearing Charlotte softness struck again.

  Before she could say anything, Elizabeth sighed impatiently. “Christ – no one is going off to war.”

  Charlotte set her jaw. “Be nice.”

  As she walked by Sutton she squeezed her arm, and Sutton knew Elizabeth noticed. She could feel her face heat up and resolutely did not let herself turn to watch Charlotte go.

  “For such a bright woman, my granddaughter has her moments of being slow on the uptake.” Affection colored her abrasive tone.

  Even so, Sutton couldn’t help but shake her head. “I think she’s brilliant.”

  Sharp eyes turned to focus entirely on her and she gulped. It was very easy to see the shrewd intelligence there. “I’m sure you do.”

  God, did Sutton have a sign on her forehead that announced her feelings for Charlotte?

  She let out a small breath of relief when instead of asking her anything about Charlotte, she switched topics. “Given who your father is, and your family history, can I assume you’ve designs on politics yourself?”

  A scoffing laugh shot out of her before she could stop it. “Oh, no. Definitely not.”

  “What is it that you do, then?” Elizabeth asked, and her straightforward manner reminded Sutton of the many speeches and interviews she’d watched this woman give.

  “I’m in grad school, for literature,” she hesitated to add on, mentally bracing herself. She was used to people in this setting – her father and brother’s colleagues in particular – judging that.

  Elizabeth pursed her lips in thought, before giving a small nod. Reserving judgment, Sutton supposed. “And what is it that you intend to do with that?”

  She felt like an idiot for not preparing ahead of time something she could say to impress her. By this point in her own life, Elizabeth Thompson was already a trailblazer as a woman in politics. That same ambition was a part of Charlotte too.

  Feeling a bit embarrassed, she shrugged. “I’m, um, leaning toward going into academia. Right now, I work for Dr. Nicholas Martin as his TA. Getting into writing in the future would be a dream, but I know it can be difficult.”

  She almost wanted to bring up the internship in Rome, but – well, she wouldn’t hear back from that for another couple of weeks. And she still wasn’t sure if she would go, if she even got in, regardless of how impressive it was.

  “No doubt your mother would like to see that, then,” she intoned, her voice almost bored, even as her eyes bore into Sutton.

  Something about it made her hackles rise. “She . . . would want me to be happy, yes. Both of my parents would.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. And, God, it took so much for her to not fidget, but she channeled her mother as much as she could, and held still. She lifted her chin and wondered what this crazy powerful woman thought about her.

  And if it would mean anything – either positively or negatively – to Charlotte.

  Elizabeth shook her head slightly, chuckling in a manner that Sutton didn’t quite think sounded like she found anything particularly funny. “I’m sure your parents would quite like for you to be happy, yes.” The words already sounded like a patronizing dismissal even before she said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, young lady, I must make some rounds.”

  Her hand was given a firm squeeze before Elizabeth brushed by her, and Sutton found herself flabbergasted, turning to watch her go.

  Was that . . . Had she failed some sort of test? They’d only spoken for two minutes! How could she have possibly done so badly in two minutes? And what had Elizabeth been searching for? She lamented silently, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands as she walked to a refreshment table toward the back wall.

  Letting out a sigh, Sutton arranged herself a small plate and uncertainly looked around the room. As if magnetized, she sought out Charlotte in the crowd. She found her easily, despite being all the way across the room from her.

  It was almost painful how beautiful Charlotte was as she laughed with the woman she was talking to. She recognized her as Payton Lancaster, someone she’d only seen in magazines.

  A young and gorgeous socialite, full of social causes, and despite never having seen her in person before this, that wasn’t necessary to know how gorgeous she was. It was clear as day in the way she smiled back at Charlotte.

  Charlotte laughed with her, and it wasn’t really jealousy that burned low in her stomach at their exchange. Because she knew that the more people Charlotte talked to, the more connections she made, and it was a good thing for her. People with money and influence; Charlotte needed as many of those people in her corner as she could find.

  And Charlotte was utterly captivating, and should use that to her advantage whenever possible. It made sense. Sutton couldn’t expect anyone else to not fall for everything Charlotte projected the same way she had.

  Worrying at her bottom lip, Sutton cut her gaze from the pair. Only to look back a few seconds later.

  It wasn’t jealousy . . . Only it was. Jealousy and something else, a little deeper.

  It wasn’t like Charlotte was sleeping with other women. It had been Charlotte’s idea for them to be exclusive in the first place, and that thought gave her an alarming feeling of satisfaction still.

  Besides, Charlotte wouldn’t want to hook up with someone in this world, anyway.

  Not that Sutton would have any right to care if she did.

  That thought wasn’t comforting in the least and she barely suppressed a groan. Because it was jealousy and this damning insecurity.

  She isn’t going to see beyond herself to see how good you are and what an amazing girlfriend you would be. She didn’t realize how tightly she’d been holding onto her plate until she looked down and saw how white her knuckles had turned.

  Patience, she reminded herself, with a deep breath, as she turned slightly so that she was facing the displayed art instead of the crowd. She just had to be a bit more patient with the whole situation.

  Pushing someone into something they weren’t ready for, when did that ever work out well? Sutton wasn’t built for that.

  Brow furrowed, she stared down at the food on her plate. She just needed to focus on something other than jealousy of the woman she was in love with –

  Her eyes widened at the thought, the bite of a finger sandwich she’d just taken going down the entirely wrong way, making her cough.

  Was she in love with Charlotte? She knew . . . God, she knew she had feelings for her, serious feelings, but, there was a difference between having feelings and being in love.

  Right?

  Still coughing, she rubbed her hand over her cheeks. She’d had feelings for men before, but she knew at this point in
her life that she hadn’t been in love with them. Even when she’d thought she’d been at the time.

  Suddenly, she wished she wasn’t here at all. She wished she stayed home tonight, wished she could have some time to herself to really think about everything the way she needed to.

  She needed – she needed to write this out, or to lay in bed and let herself really think, or to talk it all out to decipher everything she was feeling, to pick apart all of the swarming feelings in her stomach.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but you look the way I feel about all of this socialization tonight,” a voice came from behind her, and she jumped.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed and turned to face him. She tried her best to slow her heart because this was not the time or the place to be having, um, those sort of thoughts. “Am I in your way?”

  She awkwardly gestured to the food behind her, quickly stepping to the side.

  “No! No, you can, uh, you don’t have to – I was just saying that you don’t seem like you’re having a particularly good time tonight.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Not that you don’t look nice.”

  She closed her eyes tightly for a second, trying to rid the chorus in her head – in love, in love, in love – and made herself focus. This was so not the time and place for this.

  She blew out a deep breath and looked at him. Tall, leanly muscular, with short but slightly curling light brown hair and golden brown eyes, it was easy enough to recognize him as a Thompson.

  The picture in Charlotte’s apartment told her that he was William.

  “Oh.” Forcing a small smile, she shrugged. “No, I’m all right. I’ve been to events like this before.”

  Perhaps not quite to this magnitude, but still. How did she explain that the reason she was looking like she was freaking out was because she was freaking out, about maybe, possibly, probably being in love with his sister?

  “Runs in the family, then?” He asked, eyebrows lifting in what appeared to be genuine interest.

  Sutton nodded, before huffing out a quick laugh. “Not to the same scale as yours, clearly.” She gestured to the room.