Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  He lifted his eyebrows in question, and it was only then that she realized he hadn’t exactly told her who he was.

  Feeling herself blush, she was seconds away from excusing herself, before he offered his hand. “Should I bother introducing myself as William Thompson? You don’t look like a member of the press, with the lack of a notebook or a pass.”

  “No, no, I’m not. I’m just –” Cutting herself off, she started over. “I’m Sutton Spencer. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She shook his hand as he gave her a considering look. Charlotte had only mentioned him offhandedly a few times in the last months. That he was a veterinarian, quieter than she and Caleb were, shyer. But with that thoughtful look, she recognized the resemblance.

  A charming, crooked smile stole over his face. “Spencer, yeah, I see your family resemblance.” He cleared his throat. “I met your mother once, at a book signing. She was amazing.”

  The in love chorus in her mind slowed with something real to focus on, and she returned the smile for real. “Yeah, she is pretty awesome.”

  William tilted his head. “So, you’re Charlotte’s . . . friend?”

  The questioning tone made her freeze. He seemed genuinely inquisitive.

  But Sutton paused, because she really didn’t know what he knew. A large part of her wanted to make an intimation that they were more, and she held herself back.

  It wasn’t a bad thing to be known as Charlotte’s friend, at any rate.

  Her eyes found Charlotte again easily in the crowd, and this time Charlotte was in conversation with a politician Sutton vaguely recognized from around the mayor’s office the few times she’d been there.

  “Yes. She’s a good friend.” She mumbled, before she snapped her eyes back to William.

  He watched her for a few seconds, an unassuming smile on his face. “Good. My sister could use more good friends.”

  Wanting to steer clear of conversation about Charlotte before she said something dumb, she changed the subject, “So, you’re not a fan of all this? The parties and whatnot?”

  He scratched at the back of his head. “No, it’s not really . . .” He trailed off, shrugging sheepishly. “I prefer the company of animals to people, usually.”

  “I understand that, sometimes.” She imagined curling up with Grace and talking out all of these feelings to her best listener. “I have a dog, who lives back with my parents. She’s listened to many quandaries.”

  “Really? I have three dogs who have all listened to my own issues,” he informed her with a conspiratorial tone. “What breed is she?”

  “She – well, hold on.” She put down her plate, before reaching into her clutch to pull up a picture on her phone. “Here she is.”

  William leaned in, brushing his shoulder against hers as he took a close look. “She’s gorgeous. Belgian sheepdog?” His eyes were wide and excited as he turned to look at her.

  She laughed a bit at his eagerness. “Yeah.” She looked down at her phone fondly before tucking it away. “I got her when she was just a puppy, from the MSPCA.”

  “They’re one of the few breeds I’ve never had brought into my clinic,” he told her excitedly. “I’d love to see one in person. Their intelligence and loyalty is supposed to be incredible.”

  Sutton beamed. “It’s . . . well, probably true.” She couldn’t resist agreeing. “What dogs do you have?”

  “Oh, they’re all a bit of this, a bit of that; I typically rehab dogs that come into the clinic who don’t have homes. The three that stayed with me are a few who didn’t end up finding a family,” he told her, shrugging.

  It was nice to get to know Charlotte’s older brother, someone she’d mentioned in sparing stories but with affection in her eyes. It was like learning new pieces of the puzzle as to what really made Charlotte who she was.

  William was easy for her to get along with, for his own merit, as well, as he drew out his phone and maneuvered a little closer, showing her the lock screen. “That’s Duncan, Benji, and . . . well, Aurora.”

  A surprised laugh left her as she turned to look at him. “No! Did you really name your dog after –”

  “Your mom’s books, yes,” he finished, rubbing a hand at his jaw, clearly embarrassed. “I’m, uh, a big fan.”

  Grinning up at him, she nodded. “I should have gotten that from when you said you went to a book signing and all.”

  “Someone had to step up and try to get Charlotte to enjoy reading.” He rolled his eyes, full of warmth. “Never could get her into the romantics, though, not even when I would read them to her at bedtime.”

  The image of little Charlotte being read to like that was impossible to resist, and she leaned in a bit to whisper, “I think it might have worked the tiniest bit.”

  While, no, romantic tales weren’t Charlotte’s favorites the way they were Sutton’s, she’d caught Charlotte with big, soft eyes a few times when it had been her turn to choose a movie.

  He chuckled. “So, you’re a fan too? I’ll never get over the teasing I got from Charlotte and Caleb for how much I love Casablanca.”

  “That’s one of my favorites!” She’d ruined the VHS tape when she’d been a child, and she was about to tell him so when she felt a warm hand press lightly at the small of her back.

  Her body relaxed into the touch easily, even before she could smell Charlotte’s faint, luxurious perfume. She swore she could feel the light touch all the way down to her toes – did that go along with being in love? This electricity?

  Charlotte had purposefully dropped her hand from this same spot when they’d entered the room earlier. Now, she pressed close enough that Sutton could feel her body heat completely against her side. She shivered, giving Charlotte a curious look.

  “Sorry to interrupt; I just need a bit of a break from talking about what to expect from the next debate with Naomi; as if I’ll be revealing anything to these people.” She smiled at her brother, and Sutton narrowed her eyes because . . . it looked like something was off.

  She felt like she was onto something even as Charlotte stepped forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “William, it’s always strange to see you north of the Mason-Dixon line. The one time a year that it happens,” she teased, leaning back to stand next to Sutton, her hand now falling to her hip.

  “And as always, I’m already ready to go home,” he tossed back, a smile on his face.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What did I miss over here?”

  It felt like Charlotte was studiously avoiding her gaze, and she stared at the side of her face.

  William shrugged. “Nothing much. We were actually just talking about Casablanca, and how it’s apparently a mutual favorite.”

  She could feel more than observe the deep breath Charlotte took, before she finally looked at Sutton. “Oh, really? I should have known the two of you and your commonalities would hit it off.”

  Sutton tilted her head at the smile that seemed a fraction too tight at the edges.

  Still, she smiled back, her body far too relaxed and responsive at Charlotte’s closeness. “It’s actually a bit funny that you say that, because we were just talking about our dogs; you never told me William named a dog after Aurora?”

  Charlotte’s smile looked a little more strained even as William’s was easygoing. “I have to say, I was eaten up with jealousy when I saw that Charlotte had an advanced copy of the newest book.”

  “Friends in high places,” Charlotte deadpanned. “Speaking of which, you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Sutton, would you?”

  He lifted an eyebrow to give them a curious look, before shrugging. “Not at all. It was great to meet you.”

  The hand Charlotte had slung around her hips was already applying a gentle pressure to lead her away. She looked at William over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you too!”

  Confused, she easily followed Charlotte, unable to look away from her profile, even as Charlotte gave seemingly light grins and nods to some people as they passed.

>   “Are you okay?” She couldn’t resist asking, especially as Charlotte led them into a quiet hallway, away from the party. Her confusion kicked into high gear, nerves tangling in her stomach. “Don’t you have a lot of people to talk to?”

  “The night is young,” Charlotte said, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. At what, Sutton couldn’t tell. “And I need . . . some space.”

  “With me?” She couldn’t stop the words before they escaped, cringing at herself.

  Sutton accepted the way Charlotte’s fingers intertwined with her own easily, naturally, as they slid from her back. “Of course with you, darling. Who else?”

  Any number of people in the room, she didn’t say. The pretty socialite who was enjoying your company.

  She trailed her eyes over the art on the walls, taking it in as quickly as she could as Charlotte led her down into a closed-off area, their footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

  She reeled back, her voice a hissing whisper, “Are we allowed to be here?”

  “Darling, it’s my grandmother’s party. We can go wherever we want . . . as long as we’re quiet.” She threw a wink at Sutton.

  Whose heart beat faster at the risk. “Right. Okay.”

  “And you did say you wanted to see the French Modernism exhibit. The last man who’d been talking to me happened to be on the board for the museum, and I may have slipped in a question about where it was . . .”

  Sutton’s jaw dropped, surprised excitement coursing through her as she squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “Really?”

  Charlotte didn’t say anything, but she squeezed her hand back.

  In love, in love, in love echoed in the back of her mind and made her heart stutter in her chest. But it was still not the time to think of it. Not yet.

  They came to a pause outside of a door a moment later, and she found herself giggling quietly as Charlotte quickly dropped her hand to usher her through. “Shh.”

  Despite the fact that they didn’t flip on the lights, and what she was seeing was only highlighted in the low lighting that reflected under the displays, she gaped at what was in front of her.

  It was almost surreal. This entire past hour felt surreal. She wondered again if this was what being in love really felt like. Surreal.

  They stood in companionable silence, the museum around them so quiet she was certain they could hear a pin drop, before Charlotte cleared her throat. “So . . . my brother seemed quite taken with you.”

  “William?” She questioned, incredulously, as she turned to face her.

  Charlotte’s expression was back to seeming almost strained, even as she tried to smile. “Well, Caleb is gay and you were only talking to the one.”

  “Well, even though that is true, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. We were just talking about our dogs.”

  Charlotte’s mouth pursed. “Darling, I know my brother. He sought you out to talk; do you know how often he does that at these functions?”

  “I’m going to guess not too often?” Her eyebrows drew together, thinking about the way William had asked about her friendship with Charlotte.

  “Never.” Charlotte stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel how warm she was in the still air, and she couldn’t stop her shiver.

  It took Sutton embarrassingly long to put it together: Charlotte coming to interrupt, the hand on Sutton’s back, the stilted conversation and pinched smile . . .

  Her mouth fell open with the realization. “You were jealous.”

  Charlotte’s advances halted, the stilted pause probably the most uncoordinated thing Sutton had ever seen from her. Those big, doe eyes blinked once, then twice. “What? No.”

  She’d heard Charlotte reframe statements, refute points, swiftly step around what she didn’t want to discuss. She’d never heard Charlotte say anything so unconvincingly.

  Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes and felt nothing but sure. “You saw me talking to William, you knew we would get along. And you found this information out about the exhibit, because . . . you were jealous.”

  As it clicked into place, Sutton wondered if she should feel any certain way about this. In the past, she’d had boyfriends who had been jealous; it had been frustrating and sometimes frightening.

  But here was Charlotte Thompson, standing in front of her and having these feelings for her – enough that she might not be jumping to tell Sutton she wanted them to be together but she didn’t want Sutton to be interested in anyone else, either – and . . .

  And it sent a heady rush through her. Giddy, but with this edge to it.

  Charlotte wanted her. Not just her body, but her, and it settled heavily in Sutton’s stomach. She could feel it spreading through her veins, and she bit at her bottom lip.

  Charlotte huffed out a quick breath of impatience. “No.” With a deep breath, she folded her arms. “I found out the information to show you the exhibit before seeing how good of a time you were having with William.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed anything with me when you were talking to Payton Lancaster,” she muttered, the words surprising even herself, and she could feel her cheeks heat.

  Embarrassing, perhaps, but it had an effect on Charlotte. Her posture relaxed and that languid easiness that made the way she moved seem almost sensual returned, her eyebrow quirking up.

  “So, I’m not the only one of us who was . . . jealous,” she murmured, taking a step closer to Sutton.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard, glad that Charlotte had admitted to it, first. It made it easier to say, knowing it was allowed.

  “Well. She is very pretty,” she whispered, “And, um, dedicated. Wealthy. Influential,” she listed only the highlights of what she could remember from articles she’d read, but it was a bit difficult to think when Charlotte was so close to her now that she could feel her warmth through her dress.

  “True,” Charlotte agreed. She lifted her fingers and walked them over Sutton’s hip, trailing her eyes down Sutton’s body and then back up, her eyes hungry. “In all honesty, there’s no one who could quite distract all of my attention from you.”

  Her heart jumped, heat sliding through her at the admission. How did Charlotte make her feel this want with just a look? She could feel the fingers on her hip grip tighter and she pushed into it.

  “Yeah?” She could hear her own breathlessness, but she couldn’t control that. Not when Charlotte pressed even closer, her breasts brushing against Sutton’s, her breath hot against her jaw.

  She reached out to Charlotte’s waist, stroking over the curve there that was just barely highlighted in her dress.

  Charlotte leaned up, stopping just a breath away from Sutton. Her warm breath washed over Sutton’s mouth and she parted them, ducking her head to try to connect their lips.

  But Charlotte pulled back. Just a hair, just enough to evade her kiss. Her body pressed against Sutton’s, her hand tightening on her hip even more as her other stroked up Sutton’s bare shoulder. The soft touch made Sutton shiver, swallowing hard.

  She leaned in again, wanting so very much to feel Charlotte’s mouth on hers. To be able to kiss her the way she’d wanted to when she’d first seen her tonight. The way she always wanted to.

  To be able to taste Charlotte, to feel her panting into her mouth, making that damning insecurity about the what-ifs of this situation disappear. To remind herself that this was only between them, that she was the only one who got to know Charlotte in this way right now and that it had been Charlotte’s idea to make this exclusive.

  Their lips barely brushed, warm and soft and fleeting, before Charlotte pulled back just enough to evade her again, but pressing her body even closer.

  She ached with wanting.

  Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when Charlotte pressed their foreheads together, tilting her head just enough that her bottom lip grazed Sutton’s top one. Then she leaned back again when Sutton tried to connect them.

  “Do you want me, darling?” Charlotte’s voi
ce dipped, to the timbre she had when telling Sutton what she wanted during sex, when she cried out her name as she came.

  “Charlotte,” she breathed, a whimper falling from her mouth. “Kiss me.”

  Instead of kissing her, Charlotte traced her fingertip up Sutton’s neck, before she cupped her jaw. Charlotte’s thumb, warm and soft, rubbed at her bottom lip. The feeling sent a shudder down her spine, landing between her legs, and she could feel already how wet she was.

  Nail scratching lightly at her lip, Charlotte’s eyes locked onto hers. “Do you want me?”

  She wanted to tell Charlotte that she had nothing and no one to be jealous of. That Sutton would be with her, would be hers, if she only asked.

  That she already was.

  Her hands slid slowly around to meet at Charlotte’s lower back, feeling the fabric of her dress bunch as she went, loving the feeling of her curves under her hands. And the way Charlotte’s breath stuttered as she answered softly, “You know I do.”

  Charlotte dragged her thumb down over her chin, the touch guiding Sutton’s open mouth to hers.

  She’d expected the kiss to be soft, with the vulnerability in Charlotte’s voice. Instead, it was hard and ravenous. Charlotte’s tongue slid against hers, eliciting a full-body shudder so hard her hands fisted in the material of Charlotte’s dress, pulling her completely against her.

  Teeth nipped at her tongue then her lip, and she gasped, her hips jerking into Charlotte’s. The hand on her hip slid down to her ass, gripping hard, and she couldn’t stop the moan from falling from her mouth.

  It only got louder when Charlotte walked, forcing Sutton backward until her back hit the wall. She wanted so badly everything Charlotte had to give and when Charlotte slid her hand between her legs, she widened them as much as she could in this dress without thinking.

  Charlotte’s hand was hot as she stroked Sutton’s thighs, just under the hem of her dress, and her clit was pulsing already. Her head fell back against the wall on a gasp. “H-here?”

  The hand on her jaw held her still, Charlotte’s eyes on hers as she panted against Sutton’s neck. “Here. Now.” She lifted an eyebrow, her hands stilling, and she knew Charlotte was giving her the moment to say no.