Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  With a decidedly friendly smile, she shook her head. “As I’m sure you’re fully aware, I have no scandals to hide. Though, I’m not entirely sure bringing scandals into the conversation would make for a conversation you would want.”

  She’d be willing to bet that certain talk about multiple extra-marital affairs, including one with an underage gardener, would ring a lot of bells. Let alone the fact that the timeline of those affairs called into question the parentage of her children. And she’d thought it was somewhat of an unspoken agreement that they were purposefully not directly bringing these matters up in the election.

  The bit of a teasing tone was purposeful, to make it light enough that the audience tittered in amusement. But she saw the way Naomi inhaled a sharp breath, feeling victorious when that haughty mask slipped.

  It made her feel like she was back and steady. “To conclude my answer to the proposed question: I view my youth as an advantage in this current atmosphere, rather than a hindrance as my opponent seems to believe. The fact of the matter is that the amount of people in my generation who are politically knowledgeable and passionate about the future of this country is at an all-time high. Despite that, the amount of people from that demographic involved in politics is extremely low. I may be young, but youth also speaks to innovation and change, to progression. The voice of my generation is the voice of the future of this country, and it deserves to be heard.”

  She knew easily in the deafening applause that erupted that the feeling of victory coursing through her wasn’t unfounded, and this time the smile on her face was wholly genuine.

  The feeling thrummed through her through the remainder of the debate, into the short meet-and-greet afterwards, and followed her backstage.

  It quieted from a roar to a buzz, but it was impossible to not be giddy from it. Because she had officially completed two out of the three debates of the first campaign she’d ever been in, and she’d won them both.

  The big, celebratory message from Sutton with too many emojis – so ridiculous, but they made her want to sweep Sutton into her arms – made her only feel that much brighter.

  Really the only thing that could be better would be if she could see Sutton tonight. Now. It could have happened, because before she’d gone to her meeting Sutton had eagerly offered to reschedule her plans to see a movie with Emma in order to celebrate with her. Charlotte had known that, assuming things went well, she’d very possibly be feeling this craving to be with Sutton and celebrate.

  Which was precisely why she’d forced a smile and insisted Sutton go out with Emma and that she would see her later this week.

  More distance between them right now, even when she damningly didn’t want it, could only be a good thing. It helped her keep her focus.

  The other messages from family and friends and acquaintances on her phone . . . were nice, too.

  The grin only grew at the short knock on her door. Assuming it was Dean and Caleb, there to take her out for dinner, she opened it without thinking.

  But her spirits and her smile dipped when it was Naomi standing there, a few inches taller than Charlotte, her immaculate blonde hair still done up perfectly.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Did you come to congratulate me? I have to say this is unexpected.”

  “Oh, please. As if congratulations are in order.”

  Okay, so this was what they were doing – no pretense. Then again, when was there much pretense with Naomi?

  “You coming to congratulate me would be less unexpected than your, say, bringing up scandals at the end of the debate. You were making quite the reach.” Charlotte purposefully kept her voice light.

  “A reach?” Naomi frowned in faux-contemplation. “Not a reach in the least; quite the contrary, you placed that topic right in my lap.”

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, all of the previous buzz disappearing dizzyingly quickly. “You can comb through my entire professional history, every public word I’ve spoken –”

  Naomi waved her hand, imperiously cutting her off. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have said this: you placed this topic right in my lap, in the shape of Sutton Spencer.”

  Her stomach clenched so hard, lurched so uncomfortably, that it took all of her self-control not to outwardly show it. Her face remained challengingly impassive and she lifted an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that having a friend was a scandal.”

  Naomi’s smile was slow and lethal, condescending and victorious at once. The combination was one of the most unsettling things Charlotte had ever seen. “I wasn’t aware that adult friendships involved sleepovers and such familiar touches.”

  The words only built on the sickening foreboding lodged at the pit of her stomach. But she forced as patronizing a smile as she could onto her face, trying to calm any overzealous thoughts that were jumping to conclusions. Naomi Young was nothing if not a manipulator; this was a scare tactic.

  “You’re right. I’m quite sure you wouldn’t realize anything that an actual friendship entails.”

  Scare tactic or no, it was disconcerting, right to the bone, the way Naomi was smiling easily at her. That her eyes hadn’t sharpened in that agitated way. That her jaw hadn’t set.

  It was the way all of those little things mingled together that told Charlotte that Naomi was still playing a little game with her.

  She hated it.

  The smile on her face seemed to sharpen, as she tapped her fingers against her hip, “That picture, the one in the Post the morning after your grandmother’s little party? With you two standing on the steps outside of the Guggenheim, your arm around her waist – painted quite the picture,” she mused, tilting her head. “I’m sure there are very few friends who would look so off-guardedly . . . intimate.”

  Charlotte took as deep a breath as she could, as her thoughts seemed to be going in a circle of fuck, fuck, fuck. She did her best to look composed, and she shrugged. “A politician, good friends with the daughter of another politician. Not quite the scandal you’re looking for there. I’m afraid you’ll have to figure something else out.”

  The gleam in Naomi’s eyes as she leaned forward made her teeth clench in anxiety and annoyance even before she spoke, “But the scandal that comes along with fucking that same-sex good friend is absolutely the kind of scandal that, I daresay, ruins campaigns . . . and careers.”

  It was as though all of the air had left her lungs and she had to look beyond Naomi to make sure there was no one else in the hall who could overhear.

  It was more relieving than she would ever care to admit that there was no one else around, and she drew back to meet Naomi’s gaze, drawing her back straight up. “And I daresay I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Naomi’s smile was positively glowing. “You don’t?” She brought a hand up, glibly tapping at her chin for a moment, and Charlotte’s hand tightened where it still remained on the doorknob. “I believe that French Modernism exhibit would dare to disagree.”

  For a long moment, all Charlotte could hear was the blood rushing in her ears as she felt like her heart dropped right out of her chest.

  She knew.

  It was one thing to know that there was quiet speculation, to know there were rumors whispering around on the far reaches of the sidelines. Things that were ultimately too quiet and removed to have real consequences. It was another to have it confronted right to her face.

  Despite maintaining her composure, she could feel the blood drain from her cheeks. All of the tension inside her made her spine snap so straight it hurt. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Her voice was as offhand as she could make it, but she was still painfully aware that it wasn’t much. Because Naomi referencing a specific, public sexual interaction she’d had with Sutton . . . it was the closest Charlotte could ever remember to completely losing it.

  “But I do.” All smiles had fallen, eyes and voice were sharp. “You see, your grandmother might be a fucking trailblazer, and you may think that give
s you all of the connections you need. But I also have friends, who know many, many things. Friends who see many things. Who hear many things.”

  It was the knowing tone that made Charlotte’s stomach cramp, even as she outwardly only managed to clench her jaw when it clicked together.

  David fucking Verbeck.

  Not that she’d thought he had just been oh-so-curious about the exhibit at the museum that night; she wasn’t naïve. But she . . . they’d finished before he had been close enough to them. She was sure of it.

  She knew at this point that flat-out denial truly was pointless and Charlotte didn’t play a fool’s game. She blew out her breath as slowly as she could. She flexed the hand Naomi couldn’t see that was still behind the door as an outlet for this overwhelming feeling that was threatening to make her dizzy.

  Narrowing her eyes, she cut to the point as she asked, “What do you want?”

  Inwardly, though, she also cursed herself. What had she been thinking that night? She’d never made such an unthinking, emotionally-steeped choice that could truly mess something up; in fact, she’d spent years deliberately avoiding situations like that.

  She’d been jealous of her own brother for talking to Sutton and having so much in common with her, that it had been that easy for all of her carefully deliberated, smart plans to be shot to nothing.

  For her to forget that one lapse in judgment could ruin her.

  Naomi having that information was really a nightmare come true, and the utter dread that clawed at her made her feel sick.

  “Just one little shred of proof to any reputable media outlet and it seems your chances at this election – and future ones – will depend on far more than a good debate,” Naomi finished, and Charlotte could only describe the look on her face as gleefully hateful.

  It was the closest to a panic she’d ever come, and she had to force herself to take a deep breath. Then another, and ignore the look on Naomi’s face, as she steeled herself.

  Panic was not an option for her. It just wasn’t; the only option was to try to find a solution –

  The realization hit her, and the relief with it was so fast she almost got a headrush. “Just one little shred of proof could be devastating,” she acknowledged, finally able to take the breath that she needed. “But you don’t have any evidence of my hypothetical affairs.”

  Naomi’s eyes finally narrowed in that way, the one that spoke of losing an upper hand. “Quite fascinating that you’re so sure.”

  Flexing her hand one last time on the doorknob, Charlotte let it go; it was no time for anything that could make her look weak, especially when she finally found proper footing in an ambush.

  “The party happened nearly three weeks ago. If you had any evidence at all, it would have been to every news source the next day. You have nothing.”

  Because Naomi Young did not play a carefully calculated game, she was not playing this for the long-game. There was little subtlety in her tactics; there was no way any substantial proof of Charlotte’s sexuality, of her relationship with Sutton, was in Naomi’s hands, without her having already outed it.

  She recognized this for what it was: a last resort.

  She held onto that thought and let it breathe the life back into her.

  Naomi, however, didn’t look fazed or as disappointed as Charlotte would have thought she should. She shrugged before she crossed her arms. “Perhaps I don’t.”

  “You don’t. So, it appears this conversation is much like many endeavors you take on. Improperly planned with unreliable follow-through.” She took pleasure in the way Naomi’s eyes flashed in agitation.

  “Perhaps I have no proof yet. From what I’ve put together, this little romance of yours is still young. It’s only been a few months, and already you’ve jeopardized much more than I thought you would. I don’t want to play my hand too much . . .” The flash of her smile made Charlotte’s stomach cramp again. “But I feel more than comfortable knowing that I have intel on handfuls of mornings with young Ms. Spencer staying the night at your home. Pictures of her leaving in the early morning, in different clothes than ones she’s arrived in, with quite the glow about her.”

  That steady footing she’d thought she’d gained slipped from under her.

  “Dozens of moments where you’ve been far too close for merely friends, including a lovely photo of you trying her ice cream while wearing what I believe is her sweater, if my sources are correct. Somewhat blurry, as it’s through that bay window of hers, but it’s still quite the sweet image, if you ever want a copy.”

  Charlotte swallowed hard, and for a moment, she swore she wasn’t breathing. She could feel bile burning the back of her throat at not only the fact that Naomi knew everything, but the fact that they’d undeniably been followed.

  These weren’t moments that had been in the public eye, ones she’d had up on the board at her meeting earlier. These were private, detailed, purposeful photos. Moments that she’d thought were only between herself and Sutton had been spied on and exploited. The photo with the ice cream had been in Sutton’s apartment, for Christ’s sake.

  Naomi continued on, more joyful with every word, “If rumor is to be believed, you’ve even shared some moments at the Spencer party that you were so conspicuously invited to. Perhaps I have not found irrefutable proof that could sink a political career. Yet.”

  “And you won’t,” her voice was lower than she’d intended, rough with the way her throat felt too tight with all of this worry and anger and – and too much tangling together.

  “It also makes you wonder about Sutton. I hope she’s ready to take this on her shoulders as well; she’s not quite as versed in masks as you are.”

  She snapped her eyes to Naomi’s, anger flaring. “Leave Sutton out of this.”

  “Me? You brought her into it.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she had to fold her arms to stop her hands from shaking as her nerves felt so jangled. “It must be so lonely to have so very little in your life that you find all of your focus on mine. So absolutely sad that the only way you know you would have any chance at winning an election against me is by trying to scare me. I have news for you, Naomi: it will be a cold day in hell before you democratically rise to any high governing position in this country. The fact that you had to resort to around-the-clock surveillance on me just for a scrap of blackmail to use to be able to win is incredibly telling, and pathetic, and very you.”

  She could tell her words affected her in the way Naomi swallowed, then glared, but Charlotte got no sense of enjoyment out of it this time. It was impossible, especially as Naomi hissed back, “Yes, I would feel threatened if I were you, too. After all, it’s only a matter of time before everything inevitably comes out.”

  Her heart skipped at a beat at the very deliberate phrasing. “If this is all you had to discuss with me, I think we’re done.”

  “Mm,” Naomi hummed, running her gaze up and down Charlotte. “Yes, you do have quite the victory to celebrate, don’t you?”

  She kept the door open, making sure to watch until Naomi was at the end of the hallway – just in case – before shutting it quietly. Barely restraining herself from slamming it like she wanted to. Her arms were shaking from the fear and anger and frustration and guilt and –

  Gritting her teeth, she pressed her forehead against the door, coaching herself on taking deep breaths, in a manner which she hadn’t had to utilize since she was a teenager. Clenching her hands into fists, she took in a breath and held it, trying to calm the racing of her heart. And repeated.

  It took too long to get her strength back, because she’d never felt a fear like that before. A fear where she could see how it would all play out if Naomi really did have proof of her arrangement with Sutton. Where she could see the downfall of her career before it really even began, and the ripple effects of it through her life.

  Everything in her wanted to rage, wanted to rave about the fact that Naomi had just gone too far – which, she had. That she was r
esorting to ugly, pathetic tactics – which, she was. That she was wrong, that she wouldn’t end up finding evidence of herself and Sutton engaging in their relationship – and that was where she got tripped up.

  Because she wasn’t wrong.

  And it chilled her to the bone.

  ***

  She ducked out of the celebration dinner with Caleb and Dean, and instead went directly home. She couldn’t celebrate when she kept hearing the conversation over and over in her head. Hearing the thinly-veiled threats, thinking about that abject fear that had never before felt so real.

  She’d never been someone who dragged her feet on doing anything. Her nanny would always say she walked before she could crawl; there was a video to prove it. Yet, she’d been finding every reason to put off ending things with Sutton.

  Those excuses had run out, officially. She had to break it off – soon – and her stomach was in knots.

  For once, she let her shoulders slump as she walked down the hallway to her apartment. She needed a bath and maybe to watch highlights from her debate to pick herself up and keep her focused, and eventually figure out how she was going to go about this whole conversation with –

  “Sutton?” The name left her in a whisper, far more reverent than she intended. “What are you doing here?”

  It was so incredibly messed up, she realized, as she felt her heart thud in her chest. Because seeing Sutton usually, somehow, made her feel soothed. Like she forgot all of the reasons she shouldn’t feel soothed.

  But here, now, seeing Sutton standing there in front of her door, all that long, red hair falling over her black jacket, with her nose tinged adorably pink from the slight chill outside – it was all too much.

  Sutton’s face brightened, blossoming into one of her wide, gorgeous smiles. “Well, first of all, you were incredible tonight! Just like I knew you would be. And secondly.” She bit her lip, smile dimming as she tilted her head and gave Charlotte a questioning look. “Um, Caleb messaged me? Which was sort of weird. He said that you canceled on all your plans, and he wanted to know if you were going out with me.” She tangled her fingers together in front of her. “And, you know, I knew you weren’t. So. I got a little concerned, too. Now that I can see you, I’m even more concerned,” Sutton rambled, and it was something that normally made Charlotte smile.