62. Chapter 62
sixty-two
M onroe’s bag was packed. She wasn’t taking much—most of her clothes were still back home, and she’d only be gone a few days. Kitty’s eighth birthday was something she’d been looking forward to.
“What time’s your flight again?” Chloé asked, already glancing at her watch.
“It’s still at one o’clock,” Monroe replied, a little too snappy. The flight time had been on the calendar since she moved in. She’d messaged Chloé several times to confirm she'd be free to drop her off and then pick her up on Monday.
“Yes, sorry…my mind is just—” Chloé fluttered her hands in the air helplessly. “Everywhere.”
Monroe sighed. “I know. And sometimes, it feels like I am too.”
Chloé blinked, caught off guard by the weight of the words. “That’s not fair. That’s not true.”
“Oh? So how I feel isn’t true now?”
“No, I mean…” Chloé paused, frustrated. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just— You’re not forgettable, Monroe.”
Monroe gave her a small, sad smile. “I know. But sometimes, it feels that way.”
Chloé lifted Monroe’s bag and followed her to the door. “I’ll drive slow,” she offered lightly, “so you have time to change your mind and stay.”
Monroe huffed a small laugh. “I’ll be home before you even notice I’m gone.” She opened the door and stepped aside as Chloé went out, leaving Monroe to let the door fall shut behind her.
The morning was cool, with the kind of chill that lingered, even in July when the sky was overcast. Chloé clicked the car open and moved around to the boot, loading the case with care, as if that small act of gentleness might soften the sharp edges between them.
Monroe slid into the passenger seat without a word.
Once inside, Chloé fastened her seatbelt and glanced over. “I thought, maybe, when you’re back, we could go away for the weekend. Just the two of us.”
Monroe stared out the window. “Let’s see how we’re feeling by then.”
Chloé winced at the words but nodded. “Okay.” The car was quiet for a stretch of road before Chloé tried again. “I hate that I made you feel forgotten.”
Monroe looked over, brow furrowed, not angry, just tired. “It’s not about hating it, Chloé. It’s about doing something different. Saying you understand, or ‘okay’, and then just doing the same thing over again, doesn’t leave me feeling heard.”
“I know.” Chloé tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “And I will make time and changes. I want to. I just get—”
“Overwhelmed,” Monroe finished for her. “I know. But you’re not the only one with a life, Chloé. Mine’s just…not as loud as yours right now.”
Chloé pulled into a roundabout, voice soft. “That’s not an excuse.”
“No,” Monroe said quietly. “It’s not.”
The car filled with the soft sound of tyres on tarmac. When Chloé reached over and rested her hand lightly on Monroe’s thigh, Monroe didn’t pull away, but she didn’t cover it with her own, either.
“I love you,” Chloé said quietly, the words full of sincerity.
Monroe leant forward and kissed her gently. “I know. But sometimes…love isn’t all that’s required.”
Chloé nodded, brow furrowed. “I understand. It’s just—”
Monroe cut her off as she opened the door. “For goodness’ sake, Chloé, stop looking for excuses and start finding solutions. Otherwise…tell me not to come back.”
She stepped out of the car. Chloé followed, catching up as Monroe opened the boot and pulled her small suitcase free.
“Monroe… I don’t want that.”
“Neither do I. But I didn’t move here to spend my nights sleeping alone while you work until midnight and leave before I wake, cleaning up after you, wondering if you’d even notice if I wasn’t here.”
Chloé swallowed hard, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. “I would notice,” she said quietly. “I notice everything. I just… I keep thinking it’ll calm down.”
Monroe turned to face her, the case handle in one hand, the other pushing hair from her face as the wind whipped it around.
“That’s the problem, Chloé. You keep waiting for things to settle, and I’m here now.
This,” she waved a hand between them both, “is your life too, not just the job or the company.”
Chloé nodded, jaw tight with the pressure of unspoken words. “I know.”
“Do you?” Monroe asked. “Because I don’t want a part-time life. I don’t want to be squeezed in between meetings and deadlines.”
Chloé took a step forwards. “I don’t want that for you either. I just... I don’t know how to do this well yet.”
“Then learn,” Monroe said simply. “Because I’m not going to keep making space for myself in someone else’s life. I came here thinking we’d build something together—not that I’d be waiting around while you kept yours exactly the same and I had to ‘fit in’.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment.
Finally, Chloé’s voice cracked. “You’re right. I’ve been selfish. I didn’t mean to be.”
“I know,” Monroe said again, her tone softening, “but intent and impact aren’t the same thing.”
Chloé blinked quickly, as if that truth cut deeper than she'd expected.
“I have to go,” Monroe added, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Please…just find some balance. That’s all I ask.”
Chloé nodded, her lips parting like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words in time. Monroe leant in, pressed a final kiss to her cheek, and then turned, walking towards the terminal with the quiet strength of someone who hoped for more.