Page 85 of Catching Trouble

Chloe looked at me from under her eyelashes, a faint pink kissing her cheeks. “ThemilkMaxime.”

She grinned and turned away, twisting the knob on the machine until it roared like a rocket. With practiced swirls, she frothed the milk, then poured it into the coffee with a steady hand. Using a thin metal stick and a bit of darker foam she’d set aside, she drew a giant diamond ring—tiny hearts floating around it like confetti.

Finished, she took a step back, almost colliding with me, admiring her work. “There. What do you think?”

I thought it was amazing. “Aren’t you going to include words?”

She drew her brows. “Like what?”

“’Marry me’?”

When I spoke, her smile returned. “I don’t think I can, Maxime. We hardly know each other.”

My heart skipped. But with the infectious grin on her face, I knew she was only joking.

“I think I’ll leave it just like this. I don’t know the words in French.”

She handed the cup to the waiter and turned to face me, our chests almost touching. A peel of laughter made its way across the club from Luc and his friends. Chloe pulled her brows together just enough to form a faint line between them.

I brought my fingers to her wrist, wrapping them around her skin. “Are you okay? I couldn’t help but notice you seemed surprised by Iris’s news.”

Her throat bobbed as she blinked up at me. “I’m thrilled for her. But babies? Everyone’ssettling down around me. It feels like a big deal.”

I rubbed my thumb over her pulse point. “You want children?”

A small cheer rang out through the restaurant as she considered my question. We smiled at each other. Her ring must’ve done the trick.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But Iris’s news reminds me of something my mum always says. She constantly tells me I’m not getting any younger.” Chloe blinked again, her fair eyelashes brushing her cheeks. “I’ve made it to thirty-two and still haven’t worked out what I want to do with my life. I don’t know if Idowant children of my own. And I probably shouldn’t admit this, because I’m here as your nanny, but I struggle to organise just myself sometimes.”

I chuckled, thinking back to the glasses always left by the sink and the bra I’d found on the edge of the pool last week.

Chloe sighed. “I think I’m scared of being left behind. Kind of like life-progress FOMO. Does that make sense? It’s almost like I’m on the verge of buying something expensive, but I’m afraid I’ll get buyer’s remorse.”

I slid my fingers down her wrist and laced them through hers. “I know I’m no shining example on the parenthood front,but I also know having kids isn’t for everyone. Don’t pressure yourself.”

She huffed a quiet breath. “Tell that to my mother.”

Maybe one day I would.

“It’s not just that, Maxime. Everyone knew about Iris and Luc’s baby before I did. I’m glad Iris told me in person. But I still feel left out. Like I’m on the edge of things. When I was travelling, that distance made sense. But now I’m back, I want to feel part of the groupagain. I want to belong.”

At the tremble in Chloe’s lips, I sighed. I glanced over to check if Sophie was still awake. She wasn’t. She was fast asleep, curled in her chair, with Matteo’s jacket draped over her.

Something thudded in my chest. Another quiet reminder: letting people in came with its own kind of reward.

I snaked my hand around Chloe’s waist and kissed the side of her head, burying my nose in her hair. “I understand. More than you know.”

We stood together for what felt like forever, thoughts darting around my brain. I wanted to tell her shedidbelong. That she’d always have a place with Sophie and me here in Furze. How I couldn’t imagine the club without her. But it wasn’t a conversation to have behind a coffee machine on the busiest night of the week.

Finally, I let go, and she blinked up at me.

“I have to froth,” she choked out.

“Sorry?”

“I want to make something for Iris.”

I nodded and stepped back, watching her at the machine, tongue tucked between her teeth, fully in the zone. She heated a jug of milk and poured it into a cup, then added a swirl of cocoa. With a steady hand and hermetal skewer, she coaxed a stork into life, finishing it with a bundle hanging from its beak.