Chapter 43

A few hours later, the door to my office opened, and Chantel walked in with a bright smile. “Your woman is back.”

I stood just as Monique entered, her freshly cut hair falling in soft, layered waves that framed her face beautifully.

Chantel gushed, “You look so sophisticated! Like a woman ready to take on the world.”

I stepped closer, taking her in. “You look incredible.”

Monique blushed, smoothing her hair. “You like it?”

I cupped her face, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You always look beautiful to me.”

She beamed, wrapping her arms around me in a lingering hug.

Chantel cleared her throat, amused. “Okay, lovebirds, take it home.”

Laughing, we left the office, heading home for lunch. The secret plan still unfolded in my mind. I would wait until it was finalized before telling her—giving her the choice to stay or go.

But deep down, I hoped she would choose me.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable. Monique hummed softly along with the music, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. She looked happy, relaxed, and utterly beautiful.

I, however, was lost in thought. My plan was set in motion now, and if everything went the way I hoped, Monique wouldn’t have to leave for three months—just two weeks in Boston before we returned home together. And by Christmas Eve, if things continued as they had, I would propose.

The thought filled me with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. Would she say yes? Did she want forever with me as much as I wanted it with her?

“Okay,” Monique said suddenly, breaking through my thoughts. “You’re brooding.”

I blinked, turning my head toward her. “What?”

She smirked, glancing at me before focusing back on the road. “You’ve been staring out the window with that deep-in-thought look of yours. I know that look.”

Exhaling, I shook my head. “Just thinking about work.”

She rolled her eyes. “The new client negotiations?”

I nodded. “Yeah. A few things to iron out, and it has to be done in the office.”

She made a small noise of understanding, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Alright, but you still need to rest as much as possible. I don’t care how stubborn you are, you’re still healing.”

Smirking, I laced my fingers with hers. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed, giving my hand a playful squeeze before returning it to the wheel.

When we arrived home, Monique wasted no time getting lunch ready.

She made grilled chicken with a side of fresh green salad drizzled with homemade vinaigrette, warm crusty bread with butter, and slices of soft cheese. It was simple but satisfying, the flavors fresh and perfectly balanced.

We ate outside on the patio, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze that carried the scent of flowers from the garden.

I watched Monique as she ate, the way she savored each bite, the small satisfied noises she made when something tasted particularly good.

“You really do love food,” I mused, taking a sip of my drink.

She licked a bit of dressing from her lip and smirked. “And you love watching me eat.”

I chuckled. “I won’t deny it.”