Page 121 of Je T'aime, Actually

Chloé’s hands roamed too, fingers dancing over Monroe’s back and hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their mouths met again, deeper this time—urgent, messy, full of want and knowing.

Monroe shifted, sliding her thigh higher between Chloé’s legs, and the low moan Chloé let out was all the encouragement Monroe needed. Her lips found Chloé’s again. Chloé’s hands gripped her waist, anchoring them together as she rocked, need building in small, breathless waves.

The room filled with the sound of them—soft gasps, whispered names, the rustle of sheets. Time blurred.

Their breaths gradually evened out, bodies still warm and tangled beneath the sheets. Monroe lay with her head resting on Chloé’s shoulder, one leg draped over her, fingers lazily tracing circles on her stomach.

“So,” Monroe murmured, her voice hushed in the quiet room, “how long can you realistically stay? And when will you need to be back?”

Chloé turned her head, pressing a kiss to Monroe’s hair. “I don’t have any plans to leave.”

Monroe tilted her chin up, searching Chloé’s eyes.

“I mean it,” Chloé said, brushing a strand of hair behind Monroe’s ear. “Right now, I’m here. I’ll go back when Ineedto, maybe when we make space for me here and I go to bring my things back, but I’m not counting days or setting a return flight. I just want to be here. With you.”

Monroe smiled, something settling in her chest. Hope, maybe? Or peace? “Good,” she said softly, curling closer. “Stay as long as you want.”

Chloé tightened her arms around Monroe. “That might be forever, you know.”

Monroe closed her eyes and let the words settle like a promise. “I can live with that.”

Epilogue

The late-afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the French summer house garden, where laughter and shouts carried lightly on the warm breeze.

Frank, healed and steady on his feet, chased after Benji with a wide grin, expertly passing the football back and forth. The two of them darted across the grass like a well-practised team, their playful competitiveness filling the air.

Nearby, Poppy reclined comfortably on a soft blanket spread over the lawn, a glass of rosé in hand. She watched the game with a contented smile, the gentle hum of conversation and the warmth of the sun wrapping around her like a hug.

At the wooden garden table, Kitty sat engrossed in her drawing, her small hands moving quickly as she sketched with joyful focus. Every so often, she glanced up at the players, then back down at her paper, a look of satisfaction blooming on her face.

Monroe and Chloé lounged together on a bench just beyond the table, their fingers intertwined. They shared quiet smiles, eyes bright with the simple happiness of the moment.

Kitty suddenly stood and carried her drawing over to Monroe, holding it out proudly. “It’s for your fridge.”

Monroe gently took the picture, eyes sparkling as she examined it. “It’s too good for the fridge,” she said softly. “It needs a frame. We need to hang it somewhere special.”

Chloé smiled, watching Monroe with affectionate warmth. “You always make everything feel special. Even the little things.”

Monroe shifted slightly, leaning her head against Chloé’s shoulder. “It’s easier when I have you with me. When we have all of this…them, us, it makes everything feel right.”

Chloé kissed the top of Monroe’s head. “I never imagined it could be like this: family, happiness…peace.”

“To think, this time last year, I was here getting over an idiot.”

Chloé laughed. “Her loss, my gain.”

Monroe’s eyes scanned the garden, landing on Frank chasing after Benji, Poppy’s relaxed figure on the blanket, and Kitty’s concentration at the table. “We fought for this—every hard day, every difficult choice—but look at it now. It’s perfect.”

Chloé smiled. “Funny how everything falls into place…when you’re finally where you belong.”

Monroe smiled too, a soft laugh escaping her. “With you…I’m ready foreverything.”

Chloé’s hand tightened around hers. “Then let’s have everything.”

They leant into each other; the hum of laughter and distant shouts filling the quiet. In that moment—hearts steady—they knew: The life they’d built wasn’t just perfect...

It wastheirs.