Page 101 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Jealousy.

It boggled her mind that she was experiencing this even though Monroe herself had just told her that she hadn’t done . . . whatever this was . . . in a while.

“So, how did that work?” she asked. “I mean, with Sylvia. You were together and then broke up, but you still lived together. Did you date other people?”

Even if Noah hadn’t told her to leave, the second he’d served her with divorce papers, she’d have hightailed it out of the house no matter what. Living with an ex—and continuing to work with them on top of it—was antithetical to who she was as a person, even if there weren’t any hard feelings in the breakup.

And maybe Monroe felt a little bit the same, given that she looked surprisingly embarrassed. She sat up a little straighter and stared out over the water. “It honestly feels weird to even think that I was in a relationship with Sylvia. I know that must seem crazy to you.”

“I really just want to know. I’m curious about you. That’s all,” Blake pressed, flipping her hand around so that her palm faced upward and was now nestled under Monroe’s. “About your life in New York. You know all about my love life,” she added before trailing off.

Not that there was very much to tell, so maybe it was a false equivalency.

And truly, she did want to know. Sort of. Mostly, she wanted to know whether this was something Monroe did often.

What it distilled down to, she realized, was whether Monroe thought she was . . . special. Which seemed like a really juvenile way to think about it, but Blake couldn’t help herself.

Sure, she understood that Monroe was attracted to her. But did it go deeper than that? Or was Monroe the type of woman who could compartmentalize sex and love?

Blake had never been that type of person. She’d always ached for closeness.

Even if she’d been attracted to men, she knew that she’d never have gotten it from Noah.

And maybe that’s what made her feel like she was lying to Monroe, just a little bit. Lying to herself, more than anything.

She did want this, the push and pull between them. The way that Monroe’s mouth dropped down to her lips while the hand still held over Blake’s started moving in gentling strokes.

But she also wanted . . . more.

It was an idea that Blake was trying to reckon with, wondering if she was leading them both down an unfair path, when droplets of cold water suddenly rained down on her.

She threw her hands over her head to protect herself from the onslaught. “What the⁠—?”

Holland, Denny, and Maisie were all shaking their bodies out above them, including a towel that one of them had soaked in water, drenching her and Monroe.

“We got you!” Maisie cheered. “We sneaked up on ya good.”

“I’m going to remember this,” Monroe said as she tugged Maisie into her lap and started tickling her. Pausing briefly, she looked up at Denny and Holland, who both seemed equally pleased with themselves. “That goes for both of you, too.”

Denny looped his arm around Holland’s shoulder, thick as thieves. “Try your very best. We’ll be ready.”

“Is this what Denny’s been teaching you?” Monroe asked her niece, cuddling Maisie in her arms.

She relented easily, falling back into Monroe to let herself be held. “And Holland,” she retorted proudly before yawning.

Blake tilted her head to the side and stared up at Holland. “Really?”

Holland laughed effusively before shrugging her shoulders. “What can I say? You guys left the kids at heart together for too long.”

Blake scrunched her face up, trying to remember whether Holland and Denny even knew one another. Then again, Holland knew everyone in town—at least, that’s what it felt like—so she shouldn’t have been surprised.

And honestly, the cold water was a healthy dose of reality.

Which, she realized, once she clocked the knowing look Holland was giving her, was maybe a little more intentional than she’d first believed.

This suspicion was confirmed when Holland leaned down closer under the guise of grabbing her towel. “You two looked like you were a second away from making out,” she whispered before popping upright and beginning to dry herself off.

Maybe Blake should have felt embarrassed, but she didn’t. All she wanted was more of everything. More moments with Monroe. More moments like this, where they all traded dull barbs back and forth.