67. Chapter 67
sixty-seven
T ime had flown. Before Monroe knew it, it was Monday and she was packed up, ready to leave. She’d said her goodbyes after dinner the night before.
Glancing at her wrist, she smiled at the bracelet—just string and tiny lettered cubes, each one spelling out her name. There was an identical one tucked safely in her bag, meant for Chloé.
She walked the cottage one last time, double-checking the windows, making sure the heating was off, then slid her jacket on. Five more hours and she’d be back in France.
Missing Chloé had been the biggest sign things were fixable. They just needed to want to fix it, didn’t they?
What had Poppy said?
When things get hard, we’re not supposed to run. We’re supposed to work harder.
Monroe was many things, but a quitter wasn’t one of them. She was determined. They’d either work this out…or fall apart trying.
For the second time, she closed the door on her cottage, on her old life, and headed for the station.
Chloé had risen with a sense of eagerness. The house was spotless.
She’d spent all of Sunday putting work to one side, focusing instead on making sure everything was perfect for Monroe’s return.
Lunch was already organised—a little spot in town known for its barbecue, one Monroe had mentioned wanting to try, and she’d been so wrapped up in work, she hadn’t organised it before now.
She planned to swing by the florist en route, a bouquet already ordered and waiting—something beautiful, like her lover.
Even her hair had been washed and styled, dried with intention instead of her usual impatient towel rub.
Today mattered.
Monroe mattered.
They mattered.
And Chloé was determined to make sure Monroe knew all of that.
By the time she reached the airport and managed to find a parking space, the plane had already landed.
Heart racing, Chloé jumped out of the car and hurried towards arrivals, weaving through the clusters of waiting families and taxi drivers with signs, needing to be there, ready for the moment Monroe stepped through those doors.
Chloé paused just beyond the glass entrance of arrivals, scanning the crowd with bated breath.
And then she saw her—Monroe, stepping through the sliding glass, a soft smile playing on her lips, eyes bright despite the long journey.
For a moment, Chloé simply watched, her heart swelling with relief and longing.
Chloé stepped forwards, moving through the bustling crowd with purpose. Each stride brought her closer, her breath catching as she reached Monroe’s side.
“Monroe,” she said softly, voice thick with emotion.
Monroe turned, eyes meeting Chloé’s.
For a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. Without hesitation, Chloé reached out, pulling Monroe into a tight embrace.
“Welcome home,” Chloé whispered.
Monroe rested her head against Chloé’s shoulder, letting the tension of the past weeks slip away—if only for this moment.
“I missed you,” she said.
Chloé smiled, relief washing over her. “I missed us.”
Taking hold of the case handle, Chloé pulled it along as Monroe slipped an arm through hers. They held each other close, moving through the crowd and out towards the waiting car.
“I thought we could get something to eat on the way home,” Chloé said, lifting Monroe’s case into the boot of the car. “I booked us a table at that little barbecue place you wanted to try.”
“Really? That’s amazing, I’d love that,” Monroe said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Chloé got in beside her, closing the door with a soft click. “I want you to be happy.”
Monroe looked at her, warmth flickering in her chest. “I want that too.”