32. Chapter 32
thirty-two
T he arrivals board blinked overhead, a soft buzz of movement stirring in the terminal around her. Chloé stood just outside the doors, a small bouquet of white freesia and lavender cradled in her arm. She checked the time again, then looked up as the glass doors slid open.
And there she was.
Monroe emerged from the stream of travellers, dragging a carry-on behind her, her coat slung over one arm, eyes scanning the crowd.
For a moment, Chloé just watched her. That purposeful stride.
The slightly dishevelled hair. The way her face changed, lighting up, slowly but undeniably, the moment she spotted Chloé.
“Hi,” Monroe said as she reached her, a touch of fatigue on her features.
“ Bonsoir ,” Chloé replied, handing her the flowers and taking her luggage. “For you.”
Monroe blinked at them, surprised. “Oh! You are charming, you know that?”
“I try.”
She took the flowers and leant in, kissing Chloé on the cheek, and then just rested there a moment longer than necessary. “I’m glad to see you.”
Chloé pulled back and touched Monroe’s wrist gently. “Me too. Come on, I parked close.”
They walked in step, the closeness between them settling easily, naturally. There was no urgency now, just the simple pleasure of being in the same place again.
As they neared the car, Monroe looked sideways at her. “You look tired.”
“I had a long week,” Chloé said, unlocking the passenger door. “You’ll hear all about it.”
Monroe climbed in, setting the flowers gently on her lap. “I brought those biscuits you liked.”
“Then I forgive your lateness.”
“I wasn’t late.”
“Not technically.”
“I cannot be responsible for tardy aeroplanes.”
They smiled at each other across the console—like they’d known each other for longer than they had; like whatever this was, it had always been quietly in motion.
“Are you going to kiss me or just look at me?” Monroe chuckled, her voice low, teasing.
Chloé didn’t answer with pointless words. She just leant in, one hand slipping behind Monroe’s neck as she kissed her—softly at first, then with more power; the kind of kiss that pulled all the tension out of the air and replaced it with something electric.
When they broke apart, Monroe stayed close, her forehead resting against Chloé’s. “Okay,” she murmured, “that was worth the flight.”
“I should hope so,” Chloé whispered. “And there’s more where that came from.”
“Good,” Monroe said, “because I’ve got a weekend’s worth of wanting to pick up where we left off.”
Chloé pulled back just enough to smirk. “Then let’s get out of this car park before I do something unwise.”
Monroe laughed. “Too late for that, I’m here.”