Page 91 of Sex Positive

Rebecca leans forward. “Oh yes. Tell me more about that.”

A surge of warmth blooms across her skin at the obvious interest in Rebecca’s voice. So used to trying to convince people to care about sex ed, Charlie sometimes worries she comes across as shrill and reductive, but she’s proud of everything she’s worked so hard for, if only to be able to give a detailed explanation to this important US senator. Once a week for twelve weeks starting in September, she and her team will teach an hour-long lesson at a high school outside of Baltimore on an array of subjects—anatomy, sexual desire, contraception and pregnancy, STIs, and respect, consent, and bodily autonomy.

“That’s phenomenal, Charlie,” Rebecca replies with a proud smile. “Your parents must be so proud.”

Her stomach churns at the mention of her parents, and she can’t help thinking about how strained her relationship with them is regardless of her achievements. She smiles tightly, pinching the stem of her wineglass before catching Wes’s eye. She’s not sure if she’s imagining the trace of reassurance in his smile. “Unfortunately, it won’t happen if the clinic closes.”

“It was Charlie’s idea for Theo to bring that doctor on his show, Mom,” Emilia chimes in. “She’s planning a huge fundraiser to keep her clinic open.”

Charlie straightens in her seat. Emilia grins encouragingly while Wes continues to regard her in a way that makes her blood hum.

“It’s in April—the Great Sexpectations Expo.” She smiles sheepishly. “It’s a big task, but my colleagues are phenomenal, and I feel hopeful.”

Over the rim of his glass, Gabriel observes her with renewed interest. Her skin prickles under his assessing gaze.

“Quite the ambitious young woman you are,” he muses.

Charlie smiles politely.

Rebecca covers her hand. “What you’re doing is truly significant. I commend you for trying to keep this important clinic open.”

Charlie’s throat tightens; she didn’t realize until then how much it meant to hear someone recognize what she’s trying to achieve. “Thank you.”

“She made some excellent connections at your holiday party.” Wes waves a hand at Charlie, his eyes slightly glassy. He’s already on his second glass of wine.

“That’s right.” Gabriel’s gaze flickers with sudden recognition. “Youwerethere. I remember you now.”

A flush erupts across her face as she remembers exactly how he found her. Wes’s hair, neat when they arrived, is back to its usual disheveled state. She doesn’t know when it happened; she’s been too focused on choosing careful answers to his parents’ questions to notice. His cheeks are pink, though whether it’s from embarrassment at his dad not remembering her or the alcohol, she can’t be sure.

When their food arrives, the conversation descends into more personal family exchanges, and Charlie breathes a silent sigh of relief. Spinning her fettuccine Alfredo around her fork, she only half pays attention to the conversation, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking. She’s rarely scrutinized this closely, and with Wes’s family—while they seem well-intentioned—she feels she is under interrogation.

Rebecca exudes poise and self-possession that Charlie admires, and her warmth toward her children is something she’s always craved from her own mother.

Gabriel, on the other hand—

“Charlotte,” he says, slicing through her thoughts with that single word. There’s a calculating glint in his eye.

“It’sCharlie, Dad,” Wes mutters before draining his second glass of wine. She can’t help examining the pull of his throat as he drinks.

Gabriel ignores him. “What type of law do you intend to practice?”

Charlie swallows her bite of pasta. “I haven’t thought too much about it. But I’d like to do something with civil rights or immigration.”

He claps his son on the shoulder. “Wesley, we must get her up to the office and show her around.”

A moment of silence passes, and Wes focuses on the deep burgundy liquid flowing into his third glass. He tips the bottle upside down to get every last drop, then exchanges another glance with Charlie.

Setting the empty bottle on the table and picking up his glass, he says, “Charlie has seen the office.” He shoots his father a sidelong glance. “You were too preoccupied with bribing Benjamin Hardy to join the firm with a seven-hundred-dollar meal to notice.”

Gabriel’s hand tightens on his son’s shoulder, his smile placating.

“Ah.” He turns that same smile on Charlie. “My apologies, Charlotte. We’ll have you visit again, of course. Give you apropertour. The view from my office is spectacular.”

Wes laughs under his breath, his fingers tapping the base of his wine glass.

“I bet I can persuade you to join our firm with the view alone,” Gabriel adds with a wink.

“No,” Wes says in a quiet but firm tone. “Charlie doesn’t want to join your firm, Dad. She has much higher standards for herself.”