Page 60 of Je T'aime, Actually
Chloé smiled as she pulled back, her fingers brushing Monroe’s cheek. “Does that answer your question?”
Monroe laughed softly, dizzy with relief and desire. “I want you. I want this. All of it.”
“I want you too,” Chloé said, eyes searching Monroe’s face. “I want so much to wake up every morning with you. I didn’t let myself dare to dream it.”
Monroe leant closer, her voice low, “Then take me home.”
Chloé slid the car into gear, grin tugging at her lips as she checked the road. “Oh, and by the way, Cécile’s moved out…”
Monroe turned her head, curious. “Oh?”
“So…” Chloé shot her a wicked glance, “we don’t have to go to bed.”
She winked, and Monroe’s soft, delighted laugh filled the car as they pulled away into the late-afternoon traffic.
forty-eight
The room was dark, lit only by the faint amber glow of a streetlamp filtering through the blinds. The covers were tangled at the foot of the bed, the air still warm with breath and skin.
Chloé lay on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other draped lazily around Monroe, who rested against her chest, fingers drawing soft circles on Chloé’s hip.
Neither of them had spoken for several long, satisfied minutes. There was just the occasional sigh, the shift of limbs, the soft sound of skin brushing skin.
“I think we might’ve broken the bed,” Monroe murmured, low and hazy with exhaustion.
Chloé chuckled, the sound vibrating against Monroe’s cheek. “This bed has seen worse. You’d have to try harder.”
“I’m not sure I have anything left in me,” Monroe said, smiling.
“Not tonight,” Chloé agreed, brushing her lips across Monroe’s forehead. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to finding out tomorrow.”
Monroe closed her eyes, listening to Chloé’s heartbeat beneath her. “I’ve never felt like this—safe and…completely wrecked.” She chuckled.
“You wrecked me too,” Chloé whispered, trailing her fingers down Monroe’s spine. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone to stay quite so much.”
“I meant what I said,” Monroe declared. “I want to move here. To stay a while. A proper while.”
Chloé turned slightly to look at her, surprised, though she shouldn’t have been. Her voice was a whisper, thick with something close to fear. “You’re really sure?”
Monroe nodded, chin brushing Chloé’s collarbone. “I’m sure. I don’t want to be a weekend visitor in your life anymore. I want to be in it, properly.”
Chloé swallowed, her throat tight. She brushed Monroe’s hair back from her face, eyes scanning hers in the dark.
“I want that too,” she said. “But I don’t want you to resent it if it gets hard.”
“I won’t,” Monroe said softly. “I fully expect a move like this to have its issues. I’ll miss my day-to-day, popping around to Poppy’s for instance. Also, seeing the kids…but they’re a few hours away, and I’ll have FaceTime and they can visit. I need to know if this can work before…” She swallowed. “I’m falling in love with you…”
Chloé leant down and kissed her, slow and searching. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
Monroe settled again, exhaling as her hand slid beneath the sheets to find Chloé’s.
Fingers intertwined.
Chloé squeezed, smiling softly as she said, “But you should know…I’m already there. I’m already in love with you.”
“Then you should probably know…when an English person says they’refallingin love with you…it generally means they already have, but they’re testing the waters…”
Chloé grinned. “So, you are saying you love me?”
