23. Chapter 23
twenty-three
“ W hat have you done with Frank?” Monroe asked as she let herself into Poppy’s house, the familiar warmth of it wrapping around her. The sound of small, fast footsteps echoed from the stairs.
“Roe Roe!” Kitty shouted, launching herself down the last few steps and straight into Monroe’s arms.
“He’s got a darts competition at the pub,” Poppy called from the kitchen.
Monroe laughed, holding Kitty close. “He’s really getting into that, isn’t he?” She looked down at Kitty and whispered, “And shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I was,” Kitty said matter-of-factly, “but I stayed awake to see you. Chloé is pretty.”
Poppy appeared in the hallway, tea towel slung over her shoulder, and one eyebrow arched in theatrical disapproval. “Kitty Monroe Harrington, what did we say about staying in bed once you’re tucked in?”
Kitty looked up at her mother, entirely unbothered. “We said try. I did try. But then I heard Roe Roe’s voice and got un-tired.”
Monroe grinned. “Un-tired, huh?”
Kitty nodded solemnly. “Yup. Besides, I needed to tell you something important.”
Poppy folded her arms, curious despite herself. “Oh? Go on then. Let’s hear this earth-shattering revelation.”
Kitty turned back to Monroe and whispered, loud enough for both adults to hear, “You should definitely keep Chloé. She looks at you like you’re her favourite pudding.”
Poppy let out a short laugh. “Well, that’s that decided, then.”
Monroe flushed slightly. “Kitty—”
“She does! And you smiled so much the other night your face probably hurt after. That’s how you know.”
Poppy leant against the banister, smirking. “Honestly, I’d trust her instincts over most adults. Kid’s like a tiny lie detector with pigtails.”
Kitty beamed. “I don’t lie. Except to Benji when I say his Lego is in the garden.”
Monroe gave her a quick squeeze. “Alright, you. That’s enough truth for one evening.”
“I can go to bed now,” Kitty declared grandly. “I’ve said what I needed to say.”
She turned and padded back up the stairs, pausing halfway. “Tell Chloé I said hi. And that she can come to our house if she wants. We’ve got crayons.”
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, Poppy looked at Monroe, her smile fading into something warmer. “She really likes you happy, you know.”
Monroe’s voice softened. “I like me happy too.”
Poppy reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Good. Let’s hope Chloé doesn’t mess it up.”
She turned and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ve got wine, or…” she let the word stretch out until they were both in the kitchen, “I’ve got this…” She held up a bottle of Prosecco.
“Actually, I’d love a cup of tea.”
“Tea? Okay, fine, I can do tea.”
“You can have wine, I’m just… Three nights on the trot, I think it’s wise to have a break.”
Poppy laughed. “If dating French women means more wine, I might be swayed.”
Monroe chuckled, easing herself onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “You? Swayed by anything other than Frank and a quiet night in with a jigsaw puzzle?”
Poppy shot her a look as she filled the kettle. “Don’t mock it. Jigsaws are keeping me from a prison sentence some days. But yes—French women, more wine—I could be tempted.”
Monroe smiled into her hands, elbows on the counter. “She is lovely, though.”
“I can tell,” Poppy said, grabbing two mugs down from the cupboard. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“That ‘I’ve been kissed senseless and now my brain’s gone quiet’ look. It suits you.”
Monroe laughed. “Shut up.”
“No, really.” Poppy glanced over her shoulder as the kettle began to rumble. “You just seem…lighter. Like you’re not waiting for the next disaster.”
There was a pause—not uncomfortable—just long enough for Monroe to absorb the words.
“You’re right. I didn’t think I would ever feel like this again. It feels good,” she said eventually. “But it also feels slightly terrifying.”
“Good,” Poppy said simply. “You need a bit of terrifying. You’ve been walking around half-asleep for ages. It’s about time something shook you up.”
Monroe accepted the tea as it was slid across the counter. “I’m trying not to overthink it.”
Poppy raised her mug. “To not overthinking.”
Monroe raised her mug in response. “To terrifying French women and staying hydrated.”
Poppy snorted into her tea. “That should be embroidered on a tea towel.”