Page 32 of Je T'aime, Actually

She had another meeting on Thursday with a different publisher, one she was even less inclined to sell to than Shutler Fitch. But she’d agreed to at least hear them out.

Still, with the sun shining and the weight of business pressing in from across the Channel, the idea of time with Monroe was more than just tempting, it was necessary—if Monroe could, or would, make space for her.

They’d barely communicated yesterday, which was fine. Both had been busy with their own things, and they’d caught up where they could.

“I like that she’s not someone who needs me to hold her hand constantly,” Chloé said to Leah that morning. “There’s nothing more unattractive than needy,non?”

And Monroe was far from that. She was the perfect balance of give and take. Interested, but entirely capable of giving space—whether literally, or just in the way she listened. She rarely jumped in and never rushed to fill silences. There was ease in that, and a confidence.

And that confidence was sexy.

When her phone finally beeped, Chloé felt herself lift, just a little, but noticeably.

Monroe:Good morning. Technically, I should be working from 9 – 4, but my boss is pretty lenient around that. As long as I’ve got everything done, I should be free around lunchtime—maybe one, if I can get hold of the file I’m waiting on. What did you have in mind? x

Chloé smiled at the small x. A very British thing—she knew that from Leah’s messages. It meant a kiss, but more than that, it meant you were considered. Important. They didn’t add an x to every text. It was quiet intimacy, unspoken fondness.

And she liked that. A lot.

Chloé:Morning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to spend some time with me on the beach? I could make us a picnic—cheese and wine, some sun, a swim… Maybe I get to kiss you a little more? X

She added her own x—a mutual understanding of its significance. A shared intimacy.

Monroe:That sounds lovely. Might be too cold to swim. Shall I meet you at the bottom of the hill from the station? I’ll text when I’m leaving. Anything I should bring? xx

Chloé:Just your beautiful smile… xx

Monroe:Charmer…

Chloé:Is that a bad thing? x

Monroe:No. I like it…don’t stop… xx

Chloé set her phone down, the smile lingering long after the screen went dark. Her heart felt lighter; the kind of light that came not from certainty, but from the quiet hope of something unfolding the way it should.

She stood, stretching, already picturing Monroe’s face when she arrived. Beach towel, wine, good bread and cheese—yes, she could make it perfect. She had four days left here, and she wasn’t going to waste them.

Today would be slow, sunny, and kissed with possibility.

Time to get ready.

twenty-five

Monroe spotted Chloé from halfway down the hill.

Chloé was easy to pick out—cool bag over one shoulder, a large blanket rolled neatly beneath one arm, her white shirt catching the breeze. She looked impossibly effortless. The gentle wind lifted strands of her hair as she walked, and when her eyes found Monroe, her whole face lit up.

She lifted one arm and waved. Monroe felt her stomach do that now-familiar little flip.

Chloé didn’t rush her pace and neither did Monroe, but there was something determined in Chloé’s stride, as if being closer to Monroe couldn’t come quickly enough.

“You look very pleased with yourself,” Monroe called as she reached her.

“I am. I have wine, cheese, and you. What else does a girl need?”

They kissed—soft and familiar, like they already belonged in this moment.

“Come on,” Monroe said, nodding towards the footpath. “Let’s find a good spot.”