Page 50 of Je T'aime, Actually
“Oui?” the woman asked.
Monroe blinked. Thrown. Her brain scrambled. Who was this? Why was she here? And where was Chloé?
“Bonsoir…Je… je suis Monroe. Uh… je cherche Chloé?”
Recognition flickered across the woman’s face, and then a polite smile followed. “Ah, oui.Chloé…she is…how you say…” She mimed turning a steering wheel. “Rennes. She is…”
“Driving?” Monroe offered.
“Oui, oui. Driving.En voiturefromRennes.She is…one hour, maybe less.”
The woman stepped aside and ushered Monroe in. “Please…come, come.”
Confused, but relieved not to be heading straight back to the airport with her tail between her legs, Monroe stepped inside Chloé’s home and followed her.
“Moi, Cécile,” the woman said, extending a hand. “Je…” She gave a small laugh at the language gap between them. “I…work…Chloé.”
“Oh, you work with Chloé? AtLa Fée du Livre?”
“Oui. La Fée du Livre. Oui.”
An awkward pause stretched between them. Neither quite sure why the other was here, or how to ask without overstepping.
“Coffee?” Cécile offered.
“Sure, yes.Oui. Au lait, sans sucre,” Monroe managed with a smile.
Cécile disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Monroe alone in the hallway, unsure what to do next.
Her eyes drifted down to her bag. Decision made, she picked it up and climbed the stairs, the familiar creak of the steps oddly comforting.
In the bedroom, she dropped the bag onto the bed and unzipped it, slowly unpacking. Clothes were folded intoherdrawer—a small but meaningful space carved out just for her.
Still, unease lingered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. WhywasCécile here? Chloé didn’t have pets or houseplants that needed tending, and she hadn’t said anything about guests, especially not overnight ones.
She paused, hand hovering over the last item in her bag. No. Whatever was going on, it didn’t matter. She had her own drawer; had a permanent place here.
This was nothing to worry about.
As she pushed the drawer closed, Monroe heard voices drifting up from downstairs. Quick, fluid French was spoken too fast for her to catch. Still, the tone was light, familiar.
She stepped out of the bedroom and made her way halfway down the stairs, just in time for her eyes to meet Chloé’s at the bottom.
“Monroe…” Chloé breathed, as if unsure she was seeing her properly, “you’re here.”
“I thought it might be a nice surprise,” Monroe said, biting her lip as she paused mid-step.
“It’s more than nice,” Chloé said, a smile blooming across her face. One foot on the stair, she hesitated, caught between running up or letting Monroe come down. They both laughed at the awkward, wonderful indecision.
“Coffee!” Cécile called from the kitchen, her timing unintentionally perfect.
It was the nudge they needed. Monroe descended the rest of the way and Chloé met her at the bottom, arms wrapping tight around her.
“I missed you,” Monroe whispered as Chloé leant in, closing the gap with a soft kiss.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Chloé whispered back.
forty-one
