Page 80 of Je T'aime, Actually
“Absolutely.”
sixty-six
It turned out cupcakes, lemonade, and bouncy castles were not a match made in heaven. After her fifth jumping session, Monroe collapsed into a garden chair and rubbed her stomach with exaggerated drama.
“Okay, I need a break,” she groaned, though her smile remained bright as she glanced at Kitty and her friends.
They all looked at one another, shrugged in unison, and darted back towards the inflatable, already giggling as they launched into more somersaults.
“Be careful!” Poppy called out, shielding her eyes from the unexpected sun.
One particularly brash, overconfident child—Victoria, who absolutely refused to answer to Vicky—shouted back, “We’ll befine!”
“Impending screaming in three, two…” Poppy muttered as she dropped into the seat beside Monroe. “Someone’s bound to roll off the edge eventually.”
Monroe chuckled, watching the chaos unfold. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. I need a nap and I’ve only been here a few hours.”
“I think it must be something chemical that happens to a pregnant woman’s brain,” Poppy said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Sleep stops being a necessity, despite how much you crave it. And after the second one, it ramps up to include this built-in filter where anything terrifying just becomes aninevitablewaiting game.”
Poppy lifted her glass. Before taking a sip, she asked, “So, how’s things with you? How’s Chloé? France?”
Monroe smiled, but said nothing. Her gaze drifted to the children, still screaming with delight—nothing foreboding about it, just joy.
“I’m trying to decide if maybe we made a mistake,” she said at last.
Poppy sat up straighter, setting her glass down. She turned fully towards Monroe, brows knitting together. “What’s happened?”
Monroe hesitated. “It’s nothing dramatic. No betrayal. No big fight. Just…this slow, creeping sense maybe we weren’t ready.”
Poppy nodded slowly, staying quiet.
“We were so happy, you know? Weekends together, visits, long texts and phone calls. It felt easy. But living together… It’s like we suddenly forgot how to make space for each other. Or worse, only one of us is trying.”
“And it’s not Chloé?”
Monroe nodded. “She’s completely consumed by work. I knew it was important to her. I admired it—still do—but I guess I thought I’d matter more. I’m working from home, alone most days, and when she comes back, she’s either still working or exhausted. And I clean up, I cook, I do everything I can tokeep things running smoothly. But I didn’t move countries to become…background.”
Poppy winced. “Oof. That’s a horrible feeling.”
“I don’t want to resent her,” Monroe said, her voice lower. “And I definitely don’t want to beg for her attention. But I don’t know how to fix something if she won’t even admit it’s broken.”
Poppy was quiet for a moment, then said, “So you came home.”
“I came home for your daughter’s birthday,” Monroe said, but her voice lacked conviction. “Not to escape.”
Poppy gave her a look. “And maybe to breathe.”
Monroe looked at her, eyes soft. “Yeah. Maybe that too.”
“Well,” Poppy said, reaching for her glass again, “when things get hard, we’re not supposed to run. We’re supposed to work harder. You taught me that, you know.”
Monroe raised an eyebrow. “I did?”
“You did,” Poppy said firmly. “You don’t have to fix everything today. Just…don’t throw it away unless you’re absolutely sure. You and Chloé are too good to give up without a fight.”
Monroe smiled faintly, her eyes shining. “Thanks, Pops.”
“Anytime.”
