Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  More than that, it had made her realize exactly how goddamn hard it was to truly get distance, when the woman who broke her heart was quite literally at the focal point of the city she was living in. She was everywhere.

  So she’d finished the very last of the work she’d had to do before spring break, faked the flu to her professors for the first time in her life, and hopped on a flight home a week earlier than planned.

  Her forehead furrowed as she bit her lip and tried to tamp down on the tears that threatened to break as she felt her mom’s gaze on her. When she felt her mom’s warm, comforting touch rubbing her back, it was useless.

  “I can’t escape her. Charlotte. She’s – she was everywhere. Out in the world and in here.” She tapped her fingers at her chest before using her sleeve to wipe at her eyes. “I told her I love her and she told me she – she can’t risk her career. And I just thought,” she took in a shuddering breath. “I thought she loved me, too. But I was so wrong. It’s never hurt so badly being wrong.”

  “Honey.” Her mom shifted closer to wrap her arm around Sutton.

  She buried her head in her hands. “She’s in my head all the time. It’s so distracting, I can’t even write this Best Man speech. A speech about love! I can’t write about love for the first time because all I do is draw on my own experience and I . . .”

  Sutton trailed off, uselessly wiping at her cheeks, as she stared miserably down at the papers in front of her. She managed to resist leaning into her mom for all of three seconds before she melted into her, against the comfort she offered.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, with her mom’s fingers combing through her hair, not offering any platitudes. She just knew that she finally – finally – felt like everything was totally in the open and it was a weight from her shoulders.

  “Don’t shy away from writing about it.” Katherine pushed the pen toward Sutton. “You love to write and you are so good at it so now you can experience this: writing through the pain can make some of the most beautiful of words.”

  Chapter 24

  Charlotte had come out to her grandmother the summer she’d turned seventeen.

  She’d gotten her first internship in D.C. and had subsequently spent the summer living with her grandmother, and even though she’d been busy as hell, it had made her so hungry for more.

  And, for the first time since she’d determined what she wanted to do with her life, worried.

  It’d been easy for her to accept her own sexuality; even as a teenager, she’d had enough confidence in herself to feel no shame in her attraction to women. It was less easy to swallow when she was in the thick of things, able to see how underhanded everyone could be, and how much gossip there was.

  Her grandmother had taken her confession in with a few moments of thoughtful silence, giving Charlotte an inscrutable look that she loved. It just proved to her that unlike almost everyone else in her life, her grandmother took her seriously. She never pulled punches. She never treated her like a child.

  She’d said, “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re right to think this will make the future more complicated.” She lifted an eyebrow at her, before holding her gaze, “And you’ll already have to be fighting harder for what you want than all of the men here, regardless of who you’re attracted to.”

  Her grandmother held her gaze, her eyes alight with what Charlotte believed was all of the wisdom in the world, as she’d told her, “The world wants to sell the lie, especially to beautiful young women like you, that love is the pinnacle of what you should aspire to. But know, my dear, that there’s so much more for you to look forward to than that. In the grand scheme of this life, you have all the power to control your fate if you make the smart choices.”

  She’d been thinking about that conversation with her grandmother a lot lately. The words, the advice, had stuck with her for years and had given her strength, especially in the past whenever she’d ever had fleeting moments of doubt.

  She’d tried to draw strength from them in the last three and a half weeks.

  Especially now, as she sat in her office after hours, across from her grandmother, having a light lunch before her final interview.

  In ten days, she’d either be taking a step forward or a step backward from her future.

  Her grandmother triumphantly put her phone down after having been furiously typing. “Perfect. That journalist –”

  “Imani?”

  “Of course.” She waved a hand. “Are you expecting another one this evening?”

  It was easy, thankfully, to curb the emotional spiral she’d been potentially falling down with her grandmother’s frank attitude. “Obviously not.”

  “That journalist is getting her photographer and intern through security downstairs, so we don’t have much time to discuss the matter, but I’ve just gotten word of the final pre-polling numbers.” She cast her eyes around Charlotte’s office, as if someone could possibly be hiding there.

  Her heart pounded as she tried to discern whether the intensity was good or bad. “And?”

  “And, my dear girl, you’re leading the poll at an outstanding twenty-two percent.” The gleam in Elizabeth’s eyes wasn’t one that many were privy to see. “Four points down from the poll a couple of months ago, but that’s hardly more than an error margin.”

  God, but Charlotte almost wanted to collapse with the relief that coursed through her. Her legs suddenly didn’t feel as strong and she let her head fall back as a weight left her shoulders.

  Of course, she knew that there was still over a week left and that numbers could change on a dime – she’d be a fool to ever let herself believe otherwise and become complacent. But still.

  She blew out a deep breath, her hand reaching for and squeezing her grandmother’s without thought. She took comfort in her grandmother’s strong grip squeezing back.

  “I had no doubt, naturally, but with all of the things Naomi Young wants to try to spread around, the reassurance is always necessary,” her voice was strong, almost terse in her annoyance, and she found comfort in that as well.

  Rolling out her shoulders, Charlotte shook her head, “This is really good news to start my interview off with.” She sighed before giving her grandmother’s hands one more squeeze and then let go.

  When she opened her eyes, she expected to be met with that same determined smile on her grandmother’s face that she’d been wearing a minute ago. Instead, she was met with a speculative frown.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Elizabeth scoffed. “That’s all you have to say? Christ, I had this expedited to my office before the numbers break on tonight’s news, running on my elderly bones down to your department –”

  She couldn’t have rolled her eyes any harder. “Don’t try to make it sound like you don’t power walk every morning for an hour.”

  Her grandmother ignored her. “And your response to leading a poll at twenty-two percent is that it’s great news to start your interview off with?”

  Charlotte stared at her for a beat wondering if there was more forthcoming before repeating, “It is a great way to start my profile.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at her and with the close look, Charlotte very nearly wilted. She maintained her posture though, wondering what exactly it was that her grandmother was trying to read from her. Or, was reading from her; Elizabeth Thompson’s perception was never a trying game.

  “Yes, it is,” her grandmother’s tone was clipped and dismissive and comforting in how typical it was. Then it softened, “But you aren’t happy.”

  Pulling back in surprise, Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh. “What? Of course I’m happy.”

  The polling numbers did make her happy and she lifted her eyebrows in question at her grandmother.

  Who huffed out an impatient breath. “There’s a difference between being happy about something and being happy. One of them is fleeting.”

  The words weren’t said sharply but she
felt them as if they were, panging in her chest.

  Elizabeth pursed her lips, observing her. “You make it sound as if I wouldn’t recognize when my own granddaughter is happy. If I had told you that you would have this lead on Naomi at the very beginning of this election, your eyes would have lit up. You’d have had trouble hiding exactly how damn happy you’d have been and don’t even try to deny it to me.”

  She . . . was right. Charlotte couldn’t deny it, not to the woman who saw it all.

  Her grandmother took a step forward, her eyes critical and as always, watching. “And don’t try to deny that you’ve been spending less time with me in the last few weeks, either. Do you think my memory is going or did you believe I wouldn’t have noticed that you canceled our Sunday plans for two weeks in a row?”

  “As if your memory will ever go.” She side-stepped, biting her cheek against the guilt.

  Because of course her grandmother was right; she had canceled on her for two weeks in a row. She’d made sure to stop in and see her grandmother several times throughout the week, as was normal. They’d talked and had tea and touched base. But always – always – for short periods of time.

  It was easier that way, for now. Just until she was over this heartache and was back to normal. Where there would be nothing for her astute grandmother to notice about her emotional state.

  In all honesty, Charlotte wasn’t sure exactly how much she could handle her grandmother, of all people, noticing just how much pain she was feeling right now.

  Elizabeth crossed her arms. “You’ve been off for weeks, and I thought at first it was because of election stress.”

  Charlotte sighed, not letting herself reach up and rub her temples at the headache that seemed to be brewing nonstop. If she allowed herself that, she might not be able to stop herself from dropping her head into her hands and hiding there. For just a few moments.

  “But it’s not the election at all. It’s the Spencer girl; you miss her.”

  At her grandmother’s frank assessment Charlotte’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

  That was about as much as she’d heard anyone in her life mention Sutton in the last few weeks. Which was probably for the best, she knew. Because she certainly hadn’t wanted to talk about her. Wasn’t even sure if she could.

  About how Sutton had crashed through every rule. How she had been so brave and reckless and beautiful and damning, denouncing their friendship and their rules and declaring her feelings before walking away from her.

  About how Charlotte hadn’t known just how long her heart could ache like this.

  She felt caught, somehow, with her grandmother’s knowing eyes on hers, knowing she could read everything Charlotte was feeling. Everything she’d been pulling a curtain over for the last few weeks and trying to get over.

  And this time she had to break the eye contact, taking in a sharp breath as she stared just over Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  Those irritating tears, the ones that she’d been swallowing back every day, burned at the back of her eyes as she shrugged. “Well. That’s neither here nor there, is it?”

  It hurt to admit, but living that truth silently wasn’t helping her in the least. It wasn’t making her miss Sutton any less.

  They sat in deafening silence for a few seconds while Charlotte knit back her composure inch by inch. This place, her work, was no place for – all of this.

  Yet she couldn’t help but rub her hands over her thighs, watching her own hands intently, as she murmured, “Don’t worry. I’m doing the smartest thing for both of us.”

  Her words sounded hoarse and vulnerable even to herself, because they were. But it was the truth, she reminded herself. This was the smartest course of action and if anything, her grandmother would appreciate that.

  After all, how many times in her life had she heard her grandmother talk about how glad she was that Charlotte wasn’t just like the other young people – idiots – who went looking for love when there was so much more out there? How proud she was of Charlotte for having such a level head?

  Instead of responding though, telling her how proud she was of her, she just looked at her for a few long moments. Before delivering some of her least used words. “I’m sorry.”

  Charlotte snorted in derision, a sound that surprised them both. “Please don’t pretend that you even liked her, Grandmother. I know you didn’t.” It made her chest ache to even think back to that night. She rubbed at her throat for a moment, wishing her voice wasn’t going so hoarse. “You only met her the one time and you barely spoke to her for ten minutes.”

  She wasn’t even necessarily upset about that. She knew Sutton had so much more to offer than her grandmother could see in her initial assessment, that her grandmother was critical of her children and grandchildren, of their spouses, of trusted coworkers, of heads of state. She didn’t begrudge her grandmother that.

  But it didn’t mean she wanted to hear it right now.

  She took a deep breath, as deep as she could when her throat was feeling so tight, and the words came out before she thought them all the way through. “She’s in love with me.”

  Saying it . . . hearing herself acknowledge it aloud hurt more than she’d thought it would. She blinked a few times, shaking her head as if it would shake away any possible tears.

  “Or she was, at least.”

  It had been almost a month since Charlotte had just stared at her in silence and let her walk away from her, after all.

  Her hand clenched into a fist and it felt good to have her nails digging into her palm. It gave her enough strength to clear her throat and allow herself to shrug. “It’s probably for the best if she’s realized she isn’t in love with me or if that’s all stopped now because she realized who I’ve been all along.” The thoughts she’d had during those moments where she was utterly alone with herself and nothing to occupy her mind rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Too career-oriented or too driven, too ambitious. And maybe just a bit too selfish for her to be in love with.”

  She made herself straighten her spine, even as she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.

  “I know you’re disappointed in me. It wasn’t what I planned.” She tipped her head back to look up at the ceiling and blinked away her tears. “It all . . . got so out of control without my even realizing it.”

  Which Charlotte hated admitting. She hated knowing that she had a feeling that this entire friends with benefits thing would spiral out of control from the start and against her better judgment she did it anyway.

  And it cost her much more than she’d expected.

  Her breath came out trembling as she felt her grandmother’s fingertips under her chin, tilting her head back to look at her. “First of all, my girl, your head should always be held high,” she tapped her fingers lightly at Charlotte’s chin as if it was a command, and Charlotte’s lips twitched even as she had to reach up to wipe under her eyes.

  One of the last things she wanted was to be judged by her grandmother for being in this situation; it was already hard enough.

  Elizabeth’s eyes held hers as she let out a long sigh and leaned back against Charlotte’s desk. “I was never in love with your grandfather.”

  Surprised – and curious – it took Charlotte a moment to catch up to the non sequitur. “What?”

  She shrugged, looking pensive as she repeated, “I was never in love with your grandfather. He was a kind man. Good-looking,” she mused with a small, conspiratorial grin. “Not unintelligent. He quite enjoyed getting lost in his own world and was just fine with letting me take the lead in our relationship, in our family, and in public. Which, as you know, was not commonly the case fifty years ago. I saw my chance to marry a man that would let me be independent and I knew that would be to my biggest advantage, so I took it.”

  Charlotte nodded slowly, absorbing everything. It wasn’t often that her grandmother spoke candidly about her grandfather; she hardly spoke of him at all. Not in a way like she wished to forget about
him, but in the way that . . . well, it was clear that he simply wasn’t on her mind all that often. Especially not now, not when he’d been gone for twenty years.

  But whenever she mentioned him in public statements or even to Charlotte’s father – to her memory, in any case – it was never so honest.

  “I never regretted that decision. I never wished I got lost in all of that nonsense. I was never wishing I found someone I fell in love with. I was in love with my career, with navigating this journey, difficult as it was. And I’ve always been proud to have you following in my footsteps,” she continued.

  Charlotte’s stomach lurched because the very last thing she could handle right now was her grandmother telling her that she was no longer proud of her for making this misstep. “Grandmother –”

  Elizabeth cut her off with a look. “But I’ve never been proud because of you choosing to be like me, Charlotte. I’ve been proud because of who you are and what you want. And right now, I’ve never seen you so unhappy in all your life. You might think I’m disappointed in you for this development but what I want for you the most is for you to be happy.”

  A tangled web of gratefulness, love, and hopelessness hit her hard. “But what else can I do without losing . . . everything?”

  Her grandmother sighed after a beat. “I wish I had all of the answers for you. But you know I’m not one to lie; we both know there could be serious consequences in this world for living your truth. As much as I wish I could always guide you, you’re the only one who can determine what exactly the right path is in this case.”

  It shook her, more than a bit, to even hear that she should possibly think of deviating from this plan. From this life she’d cultivated for years, to take a chance at all with the high stakes she was playing with. It was nerve-wracking and unsettling and . . .

  Charlotte slowly blew out a deep breath, viscerally feeling the heavy weight on her shoulders. “I’ve never been so conflicted in my life.”