Page 4 of Je T'aime, Actually
Monroe glanced at her then. “And you? You actually like your job, don’t you?”
“I do,” Chloé admitted. “But I chose it for love, not logic. I’ve never been very sensible.”
“That sounds a lot more exhausting.”
“Sometimes,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s better than feeling stuck.”
Monroe let her gaze drift back to the clouds. “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck,” she murmured, “just…in a lane. One I know how to drive. It’s comfortable, I guess.”
Chloé turned slightly, studying her. “You could always switch lanes.”
Monroe smiled faintly. “I think I’m past the age for reinvention.”
Chloé’s eyes softened. “There’s no age limit on starting over.”
Monroe met her gaze, a quiet challenge in her eyes. “Maybe not.”
They fell into a peaceful silence.
Then Chloé glanced over with a teasing grin. “You know, for someone who claims to keep out of trouble, you’re dangerously intriguing.”
Monroe raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Is that your way of keeping a conversation interesting?”
Chloé’s eyes sparkled. “Perhaps.”
Monroe chuckled softly, relaxing a little more into her seat. “Well, I do like a challenge.”
Chloé leant in just slightly, voice just above a whisper. “Good. Because I’m not known for playing it safe.”
Monroe met her gaze, the flicker of a smile lingering. “Now,thatsounds like trouble.”
Chloé’s grin deepened. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”
Monroe looked out the window again, the clouds drifting past. “Maybe I’m not quite ready for that kind of trouble.”
Chloé’s smile softened, understanding. “Fair enough. But sometimes…the best things happen when you least expect them.”
Monroe glanced back at her, a glimmer of optimism in Chloé’s eyes. “Maybe.”
three
The plane began its descent, the patchwork of fields and rooftops growing clearer beneath them. Monroe shifted in her seat, trying not to overthink the flutter in her chest.
An hour ago, she hadn’t expected anything more than a quiet flight. Now she was aware of every small movement Chloé made beside her: the way her fingers rested lightly on the armrest, how her perfume still lingered—warm, clean, and unfamiliar.
She was striking. Monroe had noticed that straight away; effortlessly put together without trying too hard, with a kind of easy confidence that drew the eye. There was something in her voice, too—measured, but playful.
And those eyes.
Steady.
Curious.
Dangerous, Monroe reminded herself. But still...
As the wheels touched down smoothly, Chloé turned to her, voice soft but clear, “So, when we get off this plane…maybe we swap numbers? And, if you’re up for it, go for a drink?”
Monroe looked at her, surprised and a little caught out. For a second, she thought about declining, stepping back into the neatly guarded life she’d carefully rebuilt.
