24. Sutton
— ? —
Sutton
Charlotte’s hand was warm in mine as I turned her across the dance floor.
She was laughing at something I had said, her head tipped back, her whole face open and bright with it. I pulled her closer and we kept moving, easy and slow, like we had been doing this together our whole lives.
“I like you like this,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Carefree.” I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “You look so pretty when you’re not worried about anything. When you’re just here, with me, letting yourself have a good time.”
“Maybe I’m just a good actress.”
“You’re a terrible actress. I can always tell when you’re faking it.” I leaned down and kissed her temple. “This isn’t fake. I can feel it.”
She didn’t argue. Just smiled and let me hold her closer as the music shifted into something slower.
We danced through two more songs, maybe three. I lost count. I lost track of everything except the warmth of her against me, the way she fit perfectly in my arms, the way she kept looking up at me like she was finally letting herself believe this was real.
I caught Spencer across the room and almost didn’t recognize him.
He was standing near the bar with a drink in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking it. He was watching the dance floor with an expression I knew too well. That hollow, hungry look. That particular stillness of a man who wants something he can’t have.
I followed his gaze and found a woman in a silver gown dancing with someone else. Dark hair, bright laugh, completely unaware that Spencer was watching her like she was the only person in the room.
Charlotte noticed me looking. “What is it?”
“Spencer.” I tilted my head toward the bar. “He’s been standing there for the last three songs watching that woman dance with another man.”
Charlotte glanced over. “Isn’t that Emery Vaughn?”
“I don’t know. But I know that look on his face.” I turned back to her and pulled her closer. “I used to wear it every time I saw you.”
“That’s a sad look.”
“It’s a hopeless look. The kind you get when you want someone and you’re too afraid to do anything about it.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m glad I’m not wearing it anymore.”
“Are you going to say something to him?”
“Not tonight.” I spun her gently as the music swelled. “Tonight I’m dancing with you. Spencer can figure out his own problems tomorrow.”
She laughed and let me pull her back into the rhythm, and I filed the image away for later.
I knew exactly how that felt. I also knew it didn’t have to end that way. But that was a conversation for another night.
I was about to suggest we find champagne when I felt her go rigid against me.
Her whole body changed in an instant. The softness gone, the laughter gone, every muscle tight and braced like she was expecting a blow.
“Charlotte.” I stopped moving. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on something across the room, and I followed her gaze to the cluster of people near the terrace doors.
An older couple in expensive evening wear. The woman had Charlotte’s cheekbones and the same way of holding herself, like she was aware of being watched at all times. The man beside her looked uncomfortable in his tuxedo, his smile too wide, his laugh too loud.
The Walthams. Her parents. I recognized them from photographs Charlotte had shown me years ago, back when we were still learning each other’s histories.
And standing next to them, drinks in hand like they owned the room, were Baron and Myra Smith. Old money and older grudges. I had met them at half a dozen events over the years and always found them calculating beneath the charm.
Then I saw him.
Reynolds Smith. Taller than I expected, broader, with the kind of easy confidence that came from never being told no. He was laughing at something his mother had said, one hand in his pocket, completely relaxed.
Charlotte’s ex-fiancé. The man she had almost married in my absence. The man she had run from six months ago.
Standing thirty feet away in the same room, surrounded by both their families, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Charlotte’s hand tightened in mine so hard I could feel her nails digging into my palm.
“I didn’t know they would be here,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Business connections.” I kept my voice steady even though my blood was starting to run hot. “Spencer does real estate. So do the Smiths. Nobody from his staff would have thought twice about adding them to the list.”
“My parents are here. My parents are standing next to his parents like nothing happened. Like we’re all just going to pretend everything is fine.”
Her breathing was getting shallow. I could see the panic starting to climb up her throat, could feel it in the tremor of her hand.
I turned her gently so her back was to them. So all she could see was me.
“Look at me,” I said. “Right here. Just look at me.”
Her eyes found mine. Wide and scared and so unlike the woman who had been laughing in my arms two minutes ago.
“Breathe,” I said. “Nice and slow. I’ve got you.”
“I can’t do this. I can’t be in the same room with all of them. I thought I was ready but I’m not ready. I need to leave.”
“You don’t have to leave.” I cupped her face in my hands. “You don’t have to run. You’re not doing this alone. Not this time.”
“Sutton, you don’t understand. I can’t just stand here and pretend none of that happened.”
“Then don’t pretend.” I stroked my thumb across her cheek. “Be yourself. Be the woman who rebuilt her whole life without any of them. And let me stand next to you while you do it.”
Her breathing slowed. Her grip on my hand loosened just slightly.
“I’m right here,” I said. “Whatever happens.”
***
I turned to get us both a drink and when I turned back she was gone.
I scanned the crowd and found her near the edge of the dance floor, and my stomach dropped because Reynolds was already there.
He had cut her out of the crowd like a wolf separating a lamb from the herd. By the time I started moving toward them he already had her backed against a column, his body blocking her from the rest of the room.
I pushed through the crowd, not caring who I jostled, not caring about the looks I got. All I could see was Charlotte’s face.
I was ten feet away when I heard his voice.
“You have some nerve showing up here.” Reynolds’s tone was pleasant, almost conversational, but there was poison underneath it. “Looking like that. Back on the arm of the husband you already threw away once. Like you didn’t blow up your entire life and everyone else’s along with it.”
“I don’t owe you a conversation, Reynolds. Move.”
“You owe me a lot more than a conversation.” He stepped closer. “Do you know what your little runaway act cost your family? Do you have any idea what your father still owes mine?”
“I know exactly what he owes. I knew when I left.” Charlotte’s voice was hard and flat. “I knew about the debt. I knew about the deal. I knew I was supposed to be the payment that made it all go away. And I left anyway.”
Reynolds’s face twisted. “You knew and you still walked out.”
“I walked out because I’m not a transaction.
I’m not collateral. I’m not some prize to be traded between families to settle a debt I had nothing to do with.
” She stepped toward him instead of away.
He hadn’t expected her to push back. “My father made his choices. Your father made his. None of that was ever my responsibility.”
“Your parents are going to lose everything.”
“Then they lose everything. That’s not my fault. That’s theirs for thinking they could sell their daughter to fix their mistakes.”
“You selfish little…”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.” Charlotte’s voice rose, drawing glances from nearby. “I’m not going to be some prize passed between men.”
Reynolds’s face went red. His hand shot out and closed hard on her arm, fingers digging into her skin.
“You’re going to listen to me,” he said through his teeth. “You’re going to stand here and hear exactly what you’ve done to the people who raised you.”
“Let go of me.”
“Or what?”
I reached them.
I closed my hand around Reynolds’s wrist and squeezed until I felt the bones shift under my grip.
His fingers opened and Charlotte pulled free, stepping back from him, rubbing the marks his grip had left on her skin. Red crescents where his nails had dug in. The sight of them made something cold and precise settle into my chest.
I didn’t let go of his wrist. I stepped between them, putting my body in front of hers, and I looked at Reynolds Smith for the first time up close.
He was handsome in that generic country club way. Square jaw, good teeth, the kind of face that had never been told no.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Reynolds tried to pull his wrist free.
I tightened my grip and watched the color drain from his face. “I’m the man she was married to,” I said. “Which is more than you’ll ever get to say. I’m going to break every bone in this hand if you don’t listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”
“This is none of your business. This is between me and Charlotte.”
“There is no you and Charlotte.” I kept my voice low. “She walked out on you. She chose not to marry you. Whatever you think she owes you, whatever you think her family owes yours, none of it gives you the right to put your hands on her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” I pulled him closer, close enough that our faces were inches apart. “I am giving you one chance to walk away before this gets ugly.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s a promise.” I released his wrist and watched him stumble back a step. “Touch her again and I will end you. Not your family. Not your business. You. Touch her and die.”
Reynolds looked at me. Then at Charlotte. Then at the circle of people who had stopped pretending not to watch and were now openly staring.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said. “Both of you. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“I know exactly what I’m getting into.” I held his gaze until he looked away. “Now leave. Before I decide one warning wasn’t enough.”
He straightened his jacket. Tried to pull together some shred of dignity. Failed. His face was flushed and his hands were shaking and everyone in that corner of the room had seen it happen.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
“Yes, it is.” Charlotte stepped up beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “It’s been over since the day I walked out of that church. The only person who hasn’t figured that out is you.”
Reynolds opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Looked between us one more time.
Then he turned and walked away, pushing through the crowd toward the terrace doors, and I watched him go with my hands still shaking with the urge to follow him and finish what I’d started.
Charlotte’s hand slipped into mine.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You don’t have to thank me.” I turned to look at her. “You held your own. I just made sure he knew what would happen if he touched you again.”
“He knows now.” She squeezed my hand. “Everyone knows now.”