Monroe hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to drop her bombshell right here, outside the school gates.
“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” she said softly. “But I do have something I want to talk to you about.”
Kitty huffed a little, lips pursed in mild protest at not getting the info instantly, but she nodded and followed as Monroe led the way along the path to where her car was parked.
The short drive wasn’t silent. Kitty immediately took command of the radio, skipping through static until she found a station playing something familiar. Within seconds, she was singing, off-key but full of enthusiasm. Monroe laughed and joined in for the parts she knew.
She was going to miss this: The way Kitty filled a space without even trying.
And somehow, knowing all that made what she had to say even harder.
Nicoletta’s was busy when they walked in. Monroe spotted a free booth and pointed it out. Kitty darted ahead, jumping into the seat before anyone else could steal it. She grinned over at Monroe and shot both thumbs up, triumphant.
While Monroe queued and ordered two chocolate milkshakes, the nerves began to twist tighter in her stomach. Twice, she had to remind herself she was the adult, and Kitty was only seven. Somehow, that didn’t help.
She carried the drinks over like a woman heading to the gallows.
“Here you go,” she said, summoning as much confidence as she could manage.
Kitty reached for hers with a quick, “Ta,” before slurping down a mouthful.
“Slow down,” Monroe warned. “Remember last time?”
Kitty paused, lips pursed again, then pushed the glass slightly away. Her eyes narrowed.
“Are you gonna tell me something I don’t want to hear?”
Monroe looked at her, steady and honest, and gave a single nod. “Yes.”
“I knew it. Nobody buys chocolate milkshakes on a school night unless it’s bad news.” Kitty leant back against the bench, arms folded. “Go on then. Say it.”
“Okay.” Monroe pushed her drink aside and placed both hands flat on the table, steadying herself. “I’m going to move to France for a little while.”
Kitty’s brow furrowed. “How long is a little while?”
“I’m not sure,” Monroe said. “Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months—”
“Maybe forever?” Kitty cut in, her voice suddenly small and trembling. Her eyes shimmered and she blinked hard.
“It’s okay to be upset,” Monroe said gently. “I’m not expecting it to be forever. But I can’t promise it won’t be…because, sweetheart, I just don’t know yet.”
Kitty’s chin wobbled, and a single tear escaped. She wiped it quickly with her sleeve, her little jaw tightening in that brave, heartbreaking way kids have when they’re trying not to fall apart.
“I love Chloé, and—”
“More than me?” Kitty interrupted, her voice breaking. This time, she couldn’t hold it in. The tears came hard and fast.
Monroe moved without hesitation, sliding out of her seat to join Kitty on her side of the booth, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “Never,” she whispered fiercely. “Never more than you. It’s different. I love you more than anything in the whole world. But when you’re a grown-up, there are different kinds of love.”
“I hate her,” Kitty sobbed into Monroe’s shoulder.
“No, you don’t,” Monroe said softly, brushing the hair back from Kitty’s wet cheek. “You like her too. You know you do. She’s fun and kind, and she makes me happy.”
Kitty sniffled, wiping at her face. Monroe handed her a serviette, and she blew her nose loudly before speaking again. “I don’t hate her,” she mumbled. “I just… Why can’t she live here?”
“Because right now, she needs to be in France to take care of her business,” Monroe said gently. “But once things settle down, I hope we’ll be able to come back and live in England again. That’s the plan…just not right away.”
“Can I come and visit?”