Page 83 of Je T'aime, Actually
Something unspoken passed between them: a soft understanding. A willingness to keep trying.
sixty-nine
Chloé’s office was sleek and modern, all glass walls and warm wood. The low drone of conversation and clacking keyboards filled the space. Monroe walked just a step behind her, clutching a reusable coffee cup, doing her best to mask the nerves still fluttering in her stomach.
They stopped at the open-plan workspace and several heads turned. Chloé offered a bright smile.
“Bonjour, tout le monde,” she began, then switched to English, “You might remember, this is Monroe. She’ll be joining us here for a little while. She works remotely, but she’s living in France now, so we thought it would be nice if she had a desk here, just to feel a bit more connected.”
Monroe gave a small wave, trying not to look too awkward as someone translated to those not quite so fluent in English.
“She’s going to be working quietly from the corner desk near the window, and she’s starting French lessons soon, but for now, if you speak English and you can help her feel a little less lost, please do.”
There were smiles and a few greetings in both languages.
A woman in her early thirties with soft curls pinned at the nape of her neck came over and extended her hand.
“I’m Elise,” she said with a slight accent, pushing oversized glasses back up her nose. “I speak English…and I love to talk, so you’ve been warned.”
Monroe laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Perfect. I’m very okay with that.”
Chloé touched the small of Monroe’s back. “See? You’ll be fine here.”
Monroe set her laptop down on the desk by the window and slid into the chair, taking a moment to breathe. It was a good spot, tucked just out of the way enough to observe without feeling on display, but not so isolated she’d be forgotten. She pulled out her notebook, arranged her pens, and took a final sip of her now-lukewarm coffee.
As people passed by, she noticed the occasional glance sent her way. Nothing unkind, just curiosity; the kind that came with someone new in their familiar space. She offered a few smiles, and most were returned.
With her laptop open, she waited for the screen to load, her fingers hovering over the keys. Figures and spreadsheets lingered in a file she’d bookmarked earlier, but before she could start pulling them up, Elise reappeared.
She casually leant against the desk and nodded at the empty mug Monroe had brought from home.
“Need a refill?” she asked. “The coffee’s not bad here, as long as you don’t go for the decaf. It’s basically brown water. Nobody drinks it.”
Monroe chuckled. “Good to know.”
“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Milk, tea, coffee, mugs—we all share. And,” she added, lowering her voice like itwas a secret, “we take turns bringing in pastries. Thursday is kind of the unofficial croissant day.”
“Croissant day?” Monroe raised her eyebrows. “Now that is a workplace tradition I can get behind.”
Elise grinned. “See? You’re settling in already.”
She gave Monroe a quick wink before heading off, her heels clicking gently against the floor. Monroe looked around again, a little more at ease now. It wasn’t her world, not yet, but maybe it didn’t have to feel quite so foreign after all.
Monroe’s fingers hovered once more above the keyboard, but she didn’t quite start typing. Instead, her gaze drifted across the open office, towards the glass-walled meeting room where Chloé stood at the head of a long table.
She wasn’t doing anything dramatic—no raised voice or grand gestures—but even from a distance, it was obvious she had the room. People leant in when she spoke. They nodded along, took notes, and waited for her cue before moving on. She moved with that quiet confidence Monroe had always admired—measured, composed, capable. There was an elegance to the way she held herself in professional spaces, and seeing her like this, outside of their home, reminded Monroe exactly why she’d fallen so hard in the first place.
Chloé glanced towards the window and caught her eye through the glass. She didn’t wave, just smiled—small, private, knowing. Monroe returned it, warmth creeping into her chest.
Monroe turned back to her screen, the quiet buzz of the office around her grounding her more than she’d expected. It was nice being out among people, having a place to go, a rhythm to follow, a reason to put on actual trousers before noon. After weeks of solitude, this was…good.
Chloé had been right. Even just one day in, and already Monroe could feel something settling in her bones.
She opened her spreadsheet and began to work.
It was only the sudden movement that drew her attention. Chairs scraped back, quiet chatter lifting across the office as people grabbed coats, phones, and wallets. It was a kind of gentle exodus. Monroe blinked, checking the time in the corner of her screen: lunchtime. Of course.
She stretched slightly in her seat and glanced towards the meeting rooms. Chloé was still occupied, though the team from earlier had been replaced by a single colleague. This meeting seemed quieter, more intense. Chloé leant in, listening closely, her expression unreadable.
