Page 26 of Je T'aime, Actually

“I’ve been called worse,” Chloé replied, smiling softly.

The woman smiled too and stepped forward, giving Chloé a quick once-over. “Ignore my nosy child. I’m Poppy—Monroe’s long-suffering best friend.” She warmly offered her hand.

Chloé shook it, noting the familiar, kind energy in her eyes. “Lovely to meet you. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, we’re just heading off. You’ve got her all to yourself now,” Poppy said with a wink.

The front door opened again, and this time Monroe appeared. Her eyes flicked between Poppy and Chloé, then down to Kitty, whose small face was lit with excitement at meeting Chloé so soon.

“Hey,” Monroe said, stepping outside. The path was short—just two more steps and she’d reached Chloé. “You may leave now,” she said to Poppy, who grinned back at her.

“Don’t worry, we’re off,” Poppy called, turning as she shouted over her shoulder, “Benjamin, you’ll be cleaning that when we get home!”

They stood side by side and waited until Poppy and the kids drove off.

“Hi,” Monroe said again, this time leaning in to place a quick kiss on Chloé’s lips.

“Bonsoir,” Chloé whispered. Their hands found each other without searching, and she followed Monroe inside the cottage.

“You’ve had a busy day?” Chloé asked as Monroe closed the door behind them.

“Yes,” Monroe replied, then turned, her gaze locking with Chloé’s. “And all I’ve thought about is the last time we stood here...and you kissed me.”

“Is that so?” Chloé said, her voice tinged with playful mischief. She stepped a little closer. “So it would be alright if…I did it again?”

“I would think so, yes.”

This time, when their lips met, there was urgency. Something reactive. Where curiosity had once lingered, there was now intent. A spark.

Chloé still kept her movements measured—she didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to push Monroe too far, too soon.

Monroe smiled as they pulled apart—a soft, open smile that lit something deep in Chloé. She’d caused that. Her kiss had made that happen.

“Shall we?” Monroe gestured down the hall towards the kitchen. “I was thinking bubble and squeak.”

“Bubble and squeak?” Chloé laughed. “Alright, you’ll have to explain that.”

Monroe laughed too. “Of course. It’s sort of a tradition with Sunday roast leftovers. You mash up the potatoes and veg, bind them with an egg, then shallow fry until they’re nice and crispy.” She grinned. “You’ll love it.”

“Okay, I’m all in for traditions. Shall I pour the wine, or would you prefer something more traditional with this bubble and squeak?”

“Hm, that’s a good question. I don’t think I’ve ever had it with wine. It’s more...” She scrunched her nose. “Tea?”

Chloé raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “Alright, tea it is.”

Chloé watched Monroe move through the kitchen like it was second nature, pulling things from the fridge, checking the heat under the pan, while humming something tuneless under her breath. There was a calm to her, something settled, that made Chloé want to take root in the moment.

They chatted easily as dinner took shape. Monroe talked about Kitty again—how seriously she took her new colouring book,choosing only the “proper” colours, and staying perfectly within the lines.

“She told me she only colours outside the lines if she’s trying to annoy her brother,” Monroe said with a fond smirk, placing a couple of perfectly rounded patties of mashed vegetables into the pan. “Otherwise, it’s all neat and careful. She says it ‘looks more grown-up.’”

Chloé smiled. “Sounds like she takes after someone I know.”

Monroe reached for the pepper mill and asked, “So, how did the meeting go?”

Chloé blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

She could brush it off. Say it was fine, talk about the weather, or ask about Kitty again.