80. Chapter 80
eighty
S even a.m. and Chloé woke to a small foot pressed against her cheek.
Monroe was already awake, lying on her side, propped up on an elbow and watching her with a quiet smile.
“Still all fine?” she asked softly.
Chloé yawned, reaching up to gently nudge the foot away so she could turn her head properly.
“I didn’t think anyone could be more fidgety than you,” she said, her voice dry. “I stand corrected.”
Monroe laughed quietly. “She might be here every night.”
“Lucky me.” Chloé grinned, then reached across to brush Kitty’s hair back from her forehead. “She’s out cold.”
“For now,” Monroe said, “but I give it twenty minutes before she wakes up and demands pancakes.”
Benji and Kitty’s voices echoed through the kitchen, their argument bouncing off the tiled walls and wooden cabinets.
He stood at the breakfast bar, good arm stretched high above his head, holding one of Kitty’s dolls out of reach.
She was on the other side, fists clenched, face red, shouting at him to give it back.
“It’s not yours!” she screamed.
He ignored her.
“Give her back!” Kitty shrieked, hopping madly, fingers swiping through the air just beneath her doll’s plastic shoes.
“She was on my chair!” Benji snapped, eyes narrowing as he pivoted to keep the doll out of reach.
“You don’t even like dolls !”
“You left her! ”
“I did not! I was brushing her hair! ”
Chloé stepped into the kitchen, carrying her laptop and the last dregs of her morning coffee, stopping just inside the door as though she'd walked into an entirely different dimension.
“ Mon Dieu ,” she deadpanned. “Is this a hostage situation,” she asked dryly, “or just Tuesday morning?”
Kitty turned to her, tears now freely running. “He won’t give it back.”
“Benjamin.” Monroe’s voice rang out firmly from the hall. “Put that down and stop winding her up.”
Benji groaned dramatically but lowered the doll back to the counter.
“She started it,” he muttered, sliding onto a stool with a thud.
Kitty snatched up the doll and cradled it as though he’d truly endangered it. “She’s upset now.”
Chloé, unfazed, set her laptop down on the counter and reached for the coffee pot. “We all are, ma chérie . Now sit down, eat your breakfast, and try not to launch into psychological warfare before I’ve had caffeine.”
Monroe stepped into the kitchen, rubbing her temples. “What happened to that calm, pleasant energy from last night?”
Benji shrugged.
Kitty sniffled. “He said she looks like a soggy turnip.”
Chloé gave a tired sigh. “Well, let’s all agree not to insult breakfast guests, dolls included. Now—toast, anyone?”
Kissing Chloé as she passed, Monroe whispered, “ Merci .”
She picked up her keys and turned to the kids. “I’m popping some things to your mum at the hospital, then I’ll be back and we can go and do something. In the meantime—”
“I want to go,” Benji said, standing up on the footrest of the stool.
“I know you do,” Monroe said gently, “but not right now—”
“It’s not fair. Why can’t we go and see Dad?”
“I want to see Dad, too,” Kitty added, the doll saga now long forgotten.
Monroe took a steadying breath. Their heartbreak was palpable. And it cut her to pieces.
“I know, sweetheart. I want to see him too. But there are rules at the hospital, and we have to wait until he’s strong enough. I’ll talk to Mummy and the nurses and see when we can organise that, okay?”
They both stared at her, their faces tight with frustration and helplessness.
“In the meantime,” Monroe continued gently but firmly, “I want you both to get dressed and not give Chloé any lip.”
She gave them a pointed look—a warning, cloaked in kindness.
Then she turned to Chloé. “I won’t be long.”
“We’ll be fine,” Chloé said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “We’ve got lots to keep us busy. Don’t worry.”
Monroe gave her one last grateful look, then stepped out the door, already dreading the stress of whatever news might be waiting at the hospital.