Page 31 of Je T'aime, Actually
Monroe gave her a quick squeeze. “Alright, you. That’s enough truth for one evening.”
“I can go to bed now,” Kitty declared grandly. “I’ve said what I needed to say.”
She turned and padded back up the stairs, pausing halfway. “Tell Chloé I said hi. And that she can come to our house if she wants. We’ve got crayons.”
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, Poppy looked at Monroe, her smile fading into something warmer. “She really likes you happy, you know.”
Monroe’s voice softened. “I like me happy too.”
Poppy reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Good. Let’s hope Chloé doesn’t mess it up.”
She turned and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ve got wine, or…” she let the word stretch out until they were both in the kitchen, “I’ve got this…” She held up a bottle of Prosecco.
“Actually, I’d love a cup of tea.”
“Tea? Okay, fine, I can do tea.”
“You can have wine, I’m just… Three nights on the trot, I think it’s wise to have a break.”
Poppy laughed. “If dating French women means more wine, I might be swayed.”
Monroe chuckled, easing herself onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “You? Swayed by anything other than Frank and a quiet night in with a jigsaw puzzle?”
Poppy shot her a look as she filled the kettle. “Don’t mock it. Jigsaws are keeping me from a prison sentence some days. But yes—French women, more wine—I could be tempted.”
Monroe smiled into her hands, elbows on the counter. “She is lovely, though.”
“I can tell,” Poppy said, grabbing two mugs down from the cupboard. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“That‘I’ve been kissed senseless and now my brain’s gone quiet’look. It suits you.”
Monroe laughed. “Shut up.”
“No, really.” Poppy glanced over her shoulder as the kettle began to rumble. “You just seem…lighter. Like you’re not waiting for the next disaster.”
There was a pause—not uncomfortable—just long enough for Monroe to absorb the words.
“You’re right. I didn’t think I would ever feel like this again. It feels good,” she said eventually. “But it also feels slightly terrifying.”
“Good,” Poppy said simply. “You need a bit of terrifying. You’ve been walking around half-asleep for ages. It’s about time something shook you up.”
Monroe accepted the tea as it was slid across the counter. “I’m trying not to overthink it.”
Poppy raised her mug. “To not overthinking.”
Monroe raised her mug in response. “To terrifying French women and staying hydrated.”
Poppy snorted into her tea. “That should be embroidered on a tea towel.”
twenty-four
Chloé had periodically glanced at her phone since waking. She’d sent a late-night text to Monroe—one that still hadn’t been read.
Chloé:How flexible is your work for taking time off?
Leah was working the rest of the week. They’d catch up over breakfasts and late dinners, but her friend had been very clear: If time with Monroe was an option, take it.
