Page 68 of Je T'aime, Actually
She opened the door and stepped out.
Chloé didn’t move at first. She just looked at her.
“You really came,” she said tenderly.
Monroe’s smile blossomed. “Told you I would.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you staying over there, or are you going to help me drag all this in?”
The question snapped Chloé from her thoughts. “Of course—sorry. I was just…taking it all in. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life: The day you came home.” Chloé crossed the distance in just a few strides, her expression open, vulnerable in a way Monroe rarely saw.
Monroe leant against the car, watching her. “You okay?”
“I think so,” Chloé said, reaching out to rest a hand on Monroe’s waist. “You’re really here.”
“I am.”
“For good?”
Monroe wrapped her arms around her, drawing her close. “That’s the plan.”
Chloé exhaled, a laugh breaking through the emotion in her throat. “Then yes, I’ll help you drag your life out of this very large, very English car.”
Monroe smirked. “It’s mostly just clothes. And maybe a few dozen books.”
“I have seen it all, remember. Don’t try to trick me with ‘just a few books’. But I should work fast before I am good for nothing.”
Monroe grinned and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Romantic and practical. Lucky me.”
Chloé squeezed her hand. “No,bébé. Lucky me.”
fifty-six
With all of Monroe’s things now piled in the living room, they both stood for a moment, quietly taking it in.
“Not much, huh?” Monroe said, exhaling softly. “It’s strange to think you can condense your entire life into a few boxes and suitcases.”
Chloé stepped closer, wrapping her arms gently around Monroe’s waist from behind. “It’s not what you bring with you that matters,” she said quietly, resting her chin on Monroe’s shoulder. “It’s you.”
Monroe leant back into her, sighing contentedly. “Still…feels surreal.”
“We’ll unpack slowly,” Chloé murmured. “Make space. Not just in drawers and cupboards. In life.”
Monroe smiled, fingers lightly touching Chloé’s forearm. “You make it sound easy.”
“Not easy,” Chloé said, pressing a kiss behind her ear, “just worth it.”
Monroe turned and wrapped her arms around Chloé’s waist. “Thank you—for making space for me—in every way.”
Chloé kissed her slowly. “I didn’t have to make space. You just fit.”
They stood like that for a moment longer, surrounded by boxes and bags and a sense of quiet beginning. Then Chloé nudged her playfully.
“Come on,” she said. “We can unpack tomorrow. Tonight, I open the wine, you choose the music, and we see if the new sofa lives up to its online reviews.”
Monroe chuckled. “God, I love you.”
Chloé grinned. “I know. Now get comfy. I’ll be back with a corkscrew and glasses.”
Monroe couldn’t argue with that. She was exhausted. The early start, the nauseating ferry ride, and the three-hour drive that turned into almost five, fuelled by nothing more than some toast and a sandwich, had left her fit for nothing more than exactly what Chloé was offering.
