Page 47 of Je T'aime, Actually

It hit like a punch. The disappointment was sharp, sudden. Monroe swallowed hard. She wanted to say something light, something understanding. She also wanted to cry.

“Of course,” she said after a beat. “I’m not going to pretend I like it…” Her attempt at a smile wavered as she caught her own reflection in the screen. She looked exactly how she felt—let down. “But I get it. I do.”

“I’m so sorry. I feel like I let you down at the first hurdle.”

Now Monroe did smile—genuinely, this time. “Strangely, it makes you even more attractive to me. You’re putting your own needs to one side to do what’s right for your staff. That’s admirable. It’s the decent thing to do.”

“Thank you.” Chloé’s eyes softened. “I’m glad you feel that way, because…well, the good news is—”

She hesitated, the moment stretching.

“I’ve accepted a position with Shutler Fitch,” she said finally. “And as part of that, I negotiated a flexible setup. I’m not attached to any one office. Which means I can work from France…or London.”

Monroe sat up straighter. “So…you’ll be moving to England?”

Chloé laughed at the excitement in her voice. “Not exactly moving. But I’ll be able to come and go as much as we want. No more waiting for perfect weekends.”

Her smile turned more thoughtful. “Actually, I was thinking…if things keep going the way they’re going, we might both enjoy the back and forth...together. You work from home most of the time—you could come here for the summer.”

“I like that idea,” Monroe said softly.

They held each other’s gaze through the screen, the silence charged with everything they weren’t saying, and everything they felt.

Chloé’s voice was quiet, sincere, “By the way…I didn’t mention it earlier, but you look beautiful.”

Monroe blushed, her smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

“Really,” Chloé added, “I wish I was right there beside you. Holding you. Kissing you.”

“I wish you were here doing all of that too,” Monroe said, her voice low. “It’s not the same without you.”

Chloé shifted on her screen, propping her head in her hand. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How quickly this became…necessary. You. This.”

Monroe nodded. “It is. And I don’t want to question it. I’ve spent so much of my life second-guessing things that felt good, and I’m tired of doing that.”

Chloé smiled, a softness in her eyes that made Monroe’s chest tighten. “Then let’s not question it.”

They both fell quiet again—not awkwardly, just present; connected despite the miles.

Monroe reached for her pillow, adjusting it behind her back as she leant in a little closer to the screen. “Tell me something small. Something about your day.”

Chloé laughed gently. “Hmm… I spilled coffee on my blouse right before a meeting and had to pretend it was part of the pattern. No one questioned it.”

Monroe grinned. “That’s impressive. And very stylish of you.”

“I try,” Chloé said. “What about you?”

“I got into a minor argument with Poppy’s youngest because I wouldn’t let her eat three chocolate biscuits before dinner. She told me I was cruel, and then five minutes later she fell asleep on my lap.”

“Sounds like love.”

Monroe smiled, her expression blooming. “Yeah, it does.”

They stayed like that, sharing little nothings, letting the conversation drift wherever it wanted to go, until eyes grew heavier, voices slowed, and goodbyes were whispered like a promise.

“Sleep well, baby,” Chloé murmured.

“You too. Call you tomorrow?”