Page 102 of Je T'aime, Actually
“I mean, I think we all do.” Monroe grabbed some paper towel and began drying their hands. When she was done, she said, “There, that’s much better. Now you can hold Daddy’s hand.”
Kitty ran to the door. “Come on, before Benji gets the best seat.”
Monroe shook her head. “Okay, but I’m pretty sure Mummy will have bagged it.”
“Uh uh…I’m small…I can get on the bed.”
“Kitty, I’m not sure that’s—” The kid was running, and in the grand scheme of things, Monroe considered it was probably exactly where she’d want to be if she were eight and it was her dad laying in a hospital bed.
eighty-seven
The house was quiet; the kind of stillness that settled only once both children were asleep, tucked under blankets and dreams. Monroe lay on her side, one hand curled beneath her cheek, the other stretched across the bed, grazing Chloé’s arm.
“Poppy must be shattered,” Monroe murmured.
Chloé nodded, her voice soft. “She didn’t stop all day. Just...held it together for everyone else.”
Monroe sighed. “I don’t know how she’s doing it. I honestly don’t. The kids were amazing, though. Benji, especially. He really stepped up.”
“And Kitty. She’s got more courage in her pinkie than most people have, full-grown.”
They lay in silence for a moment, breathing in the comfort of clean sheets and a room that was finally theirs again, for a few hours at least.
Chloé turned to her, brushing her fingers lightly over Monroe’s wrist. “You were amazing too, you know.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“You did exactly what was needed. For all of them.”
Monroe shifted, rolling onto her back, and blinked at the ceiling, tiredness catching up to her all at once. “It’s been so much lately. The hospital, the waiting, trying to keep things normal for the kids. I feel like we’ve barely had a moment to breathe.”
“I know. But we’re here now.”
“That’s just it,” Monroe said quietly. “You’re here, and I keep wondering how long I’ve got you for.” She glanced sideways. “Aren’t they pulling you back to France?”
Chloé gave a small shrug. “They’ll survive without me for a little while longer.”
Monroe tried to smile, but her brow furrowed. “You don’t have to stay just because it’s a mess here.”
“I’m staying because I want to.” Chloé’s voice was steady, no hesitation. “This…being here with you, helping Poppy, being with the kids…it matters.Youmatter.”
Monroe’s throat tightened. She turned, inching closer until their foreheads nearly touched. “I miss you,” she whispered, “even when you’re right here.”
“I miss us, too,” Chloé replied, fingers threading with Monroe’s.
Their kiss was slow; a quiet tether between them, a moment carved out of the chaos, something soft and steady. Chloé’s hand moved to Monroe’s side, warm against the fabric of her shirt.
“I just needed to be reminded,” Monroe murmured, “that we’re still…this.”
“We are,” Chloé said. “Always.”
Chloé’s fingers slid lightly over Monroe’s hip, easing up under the hem of her shirt. “You’re so tense,” she whispered, her voice low and coaxing. “Let me help you let some of it go.”
Monroe closed her eyes, her breath catching. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way Chloé said them. Soft. Certain. As though she already knew where Monroe was aching.
“I don’t want to fall apart,” Monroe murmured.
“You won’t,” Chloé promised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then another just below her jaw. “You’ll just feel. With me.”
