Page 57 of Je T'aime, Actually
He gave a small nod of acknowledgement.
“So,” Chloé continued, “I’ll be speaking with the bank about refinancing. But in the meantime, I need to know—who among us knows these genres best?”
Five hands went up.
“Will we still keep our niche?” someone asked.
“Oui.That doesn’t change,” Chloé replied. “We’re not abandoning anything—we’re simply adding. We’ll take advantage of the market.”
“I read romance,” one woman admitted, a little shyly, “and sometimes fantasy.”
“I love a good murder,” said Pascal, grinning as Cécile nodded in agreement. “We’ll learn what we need to learn. Books are books. Marketing just needs to shift slightly.”
“So…are we all on board to give it a go?” Chloé asked.
Heads nodded around the table.
“Yes. What else can we do?” came the general response.
With nothing further from anyone, Chloé said, “Then let’s get to work.” Her grin widening. “I want marketing ready to go, updates on the website, a newsletter out—whatever we need. If you’ve got an idea, share it. We’re going to need all-hands-on deck.”
forty-six
Her cottage was quiet when Monroe stepped inside. Too quiet. Her suitcase thudded against the wooden floor as she pulled it in behind her. She didn’t bother taking off her coat straightaway, she just stood there for a moment, letting the stillness settle around her like a sigh.
Everything felt slightly out of sync. The lights were too bright. The air too still. No scent of Chloé’s perfume; no trace of her laugh echoing from another room.
She kicked off her shoes, and padded through to the kitchen. She didn’t need anything—not really—just something to do with her hands. She poured a glass of water, leant on the counter, and stared at her phone.
It rang before she had the chance to call first.
Chloé.
Monroe’s lips curved into a smile as she swiped to answer. “Hey.”
“Salut,” Chloé said, her voice warm but quiet. “Did you get in alright?”
“Yeah. Just now. The cottage feels a bit… I don’t know—flat, I suppose.” She heard Chloé’s soft laugh.
“It’s always like this after I leave you. Like everything’s been turned down a notch.”
“I know the feeling,” Chloé murmured. “I kept reaching for your hand in the car. It’s so odd how fast we become used to someone else’s presence.”
There was a silence; not uncomfortable, just full.
“You alright?” Monroe asked.
“Yes, I’m…back at the office. Everyone’s in full swing. It’s chaos—but the good kind.”
Monroe grinned and let herself sink into the couch. “See? Didn’t take long for you all to find your rhythm.”
“Still wish you were here.”
“I wish that too,” Monroe said quietly. “But you don’t need me. You’ve got this, Chloé. You really have.”
“I know,” Chloé said. “But Iwantyou here. That’s different.”
Monroe’s chest ached in the nicest, strangest way.
