Page 98 of Je T'aime, Actually

Chloé navigated the kitchen like an orienteer without a map, opening cupboards with theatrical confusion and muttering in French under her breath.

Kitty knelt on a stool, elbows on the counter, watching like a tiny forewoman and pointing helpfully whenever Chloé asked where to find something.

“What are you making?” she asked, eyebrows scrunched as Chloé grumbled something unintelligible.

“Des oeufs en cocotte,” Chloé replied, triumphantly retrieving a ramekin from the wrong cupboard. “It’s like a very fancy egg. Only...not really.”

“Is it, like, boiled?”

Chloé wrinkled her nose. “Boiled is prison food. This is baked. With cream. And cheese. And dignity.”

Kitty giggled. “Can I have two?”

“We’ll see if the first one survives.”

Chloé cracked an egg with unnecessary flair and let it slide into the ramekin. She added a dash of cream, a sprinkle of gratedcheese, and a pinch of salt and pepper like she was casting a spell. She did the same with three more.

“What’s next?” Kitty asked.

Chloé opened the fridge, peered inside, and muttered, “Mon Dieu, your mother lives on hummus and hope.”

Kitty giggled. “You’re funny.”

Chloé straightened up, twisting to look at her with mock suspicion. “Oh, is that so?”

Kitty nodded seriously, but her eyes sparkled. “You talk to food. And you called eggs ‘fancy’.”

“Well, they areverysophisticated,” Chloé said, plucking a spoon and pretending to give the egg a tiny bow. “Monsieur Oeuf, ready for his hot bath.”

Kitty burst into another round of giggles. “You’re weird.”

“I preferenigmatic, thank you very much.” Chloé popped the ramekins into a dish of hot water and slid the tray into the oven. “Now we wait exactly ten minutes and hope the oven gods are kind.”

Kitty leant her chin on her hands, watching Chloé like she was the most interesting thing in the world. “You should cook all the time.”

Chloé pretended to gasp. “Kitty Harrington! Are you trying to trap me into being your full-time chef?”

Kitty nodded again. “And maybe babysitter when Monroe is busy.”

“Well, in that case,” Chloé said, wiping her hands dramatically on a tea towel, “you’ll have to pay me in biscuits and endless compliments.”

From the doorway, Monroe smiled. She’d been leaning against the frame for the past minute, quietly watching the two of them—the warmth, the laughter, the unexpected ease.

“I can do compliments,” Kitty said cheerfully. “You’ve got nice hair.”

“Très bien,” Chloé replied with a wink. “You can stay.”

“Can I stay too?” Monroe asked, stepping fully into view.

Kitty turned and grinned. “We already saved you a fancy egg.”

“I should hope so, I’m famished,” Monroe said, giving Kitty a quick hug before crossing to Chloé and kissing her gently. “All okay?” she asked in a low voice.

“Oui. No problems at all. Benji’s on his computer,” Chloé replied, studying Monroe’s face. “And you?”

Monroe let out a long breath. “Emotional. But good, actually. There’s a lot to be hopeful about.”

“How’s Daddy?” Kitty asked, cutting in.