11. Chapter 11
eleven
M onroe had just settled into her train seat when her phone buzzed softly.
Chloé: Safe on the train?
Monroe smiled, tapping out a quick reply.
Monroe: All good. Thank you for tonight. You really know how to show someone a good time.
Chloé: Well, I’m glad you think so. I was a little nervous too, you know?
Monroe: Really? You seemed pretty confident to me.
Chloé: I don’t think it was about confidence, for either of us. Maybe…something new we never considered? But honestly, there was a moment when I almost kissed you.
Monroe blinked, cheeks warming as she read the message. Twice.
Monroe: Really?
Chloé: Yes. But I thought you weren’t ready. So I held back.
Monroe typed back quickly.
Monroe: Thank you for being so considerate.
Because she wasn’t ready for that, even though she probably would have liked it. Chloé was… She searched for the right word and could only come up with: perfect .
Chloé: Always.
Monroe: I forgot to ask, how long are you here for?
Chloé: One week, but I have to attend a few meetings in London. And maybe I’ll go to Manchester for one day, but that isn’t decided yet.
Monroe considered the information. She was back to work on Monday, but that meant she was free tomorrow, and flexible enough to make time—if she wanted to.
Did she want to?
Monroe: Without feeling pressured to do so…would you be free tomorrow?
Her lips pressed together nervously, her phone clasped between both palms and pressed between her thighs, as if hiding it would somehow keep her from hearing the faint buzz when Chloé replied and said she was busy.
Buzz, buzz.
She took a deep breath and pulled the phone free.
Chloé: I would love that, actually. My friend is going to be out all day, and I was only planning to head to the pub for a Sunday roast. Care to join me?
Monroe: Why don’t I cook for us both? Lamb?
Chloé: I couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s too much. Are you sure?
Monroe laughed at the message— that’s too much. Are you sure?
Monroe: I think I’m very sure. It’ll be nice to cook for someone again. And you can’t beat a home-cooked roast when it’s offered.
Chloé: Then I will be honoured to be welcomed into your home for dinner. Speaking of which, are you home yet?
Monroe: Not quite. Two more stops and then a short walk. Are you back at your friend’s already?
Chloé: Oui. Already in my night clothes, teeth brushed, just waiting up to know you’re home safe.
There was that skip again—that little extra beat in her chest, trying to say something profound.
Someone cared enough to wait up and make sure she got home safe.
Monroe: You’re very sweet. I appreciate it.
Chloé: It is nothing, non ? To wait and check that a beautiful woman finds herself safely home after such a wonderful evening together?
She could hear the accent as she read the words and smiled to herself, feeling her stomach tumble over itself.
A wonderful evening together sounded like so much…
more. And part of her wanted it to have meant more.
To feel those hands touch her in ways only a lover understood—was that so terrible?
That voice, those words, whispering in her ear.
They had sent a sensation through her that her body recognised immediately.
And yet…she knew. She wasn’t ready. But wanting it? That was different. That had to mean something.
Monroe: I guess, if I’m honest, I’ve never really experienced that before.
There was no response for a moment, and Monroe wondered if maybe Chloé had fallen asleep. Then the phone rang.
Chloé was calling.
“Hello?” Monroe answered a little hesitantly. She was never good at phone calls.
“I found it impossible to put into words the outrage I feel that this is the answer you give. How has nobody ever taken time to make sure you are safe?”Chloé’s voice sounded exactly as mad as she’d said she was, and for a second, Monroe wondered if she’d read this woman all wrong.
“I am astounded. You deserve to be treated so much better. Who can’t take time out of their night to spend just a little more with you—even if it’s just a text?”
“Well, I guess…” Monroe didn’t really have an answer. “I don’t know.”
“If you’re happy to, and I assume you might be, as you answered, I would like to stay on the phone with you until you are home and I can sleep soundly, knowing that you are okay.”
The train slowed and pulled into the stop before Sandham.
“I’d like that, actually,” Monroe admitted. Not because she was scared to walk alone—she wasn’t. She’d done self-defence classes; she could look after herself if needed. But she did want to keep talking to Chloé.
And she smiled again as Chloé launched into a funny story about a night out in Paris when she was younger.
In that moment, Monroe was sure this might just be a turning point in her life.