Page 103 of The Right Kind of Wrong

She’d inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring with the clean scent of Monroe’s body wash, which enticed her in the strangest way.

Through dinner, she’d been functional. Sharing in conversations. Even telling a few stories. She’d made sure to laugh when appropriate.

But all night, her gaze had lingered on Monroe regardless of what either one of them was doing.

It had to be obvious to Holland and Denny, but she didn’t care.

The only time she’d pulled herself away was when, about twenty minutes ago, Maisie had started yawning sleepily, which Blake could more than understand.

It had been a long day for all of them, and she felt like she could collapse into her mattress and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber with ease.

Only, Maisie had asked Blake, whose lap she’d been seated on for the last hour, if she could read her a bedtime story.

“Just comfy,” Maisie had said, snuggling in close against her.

And the feeling—the way Maisie had melted into her with so much trust—had made Blake’s heart feel like it was going to burst.

She’d looked toward Monroe for confirmation that it was okay to do. She’d given her a soft smile and said, “Just make sure she brushes her teeth.”

Blake had fulfilled that requirement—Maisie had been too tired to put up any real argument—and she’d been ready and willing to be on bedtime story duty. Halfway through the book, though, Maisie had fallen asleep on her shoulder, snoring softly.

Maybe she should have gotten up immediately, but she’d been so comfortable, even half sitting up with her back against the headboard.

Blake had been taking some heartrending chances pushing forward with Monroe, the consequences be damned, but she wouldn’t do the same with Maisie. Not with someone who’d already been through so much unfair loss in her young life.

She and Monroe were adults, and the consequences of their decisions were theirs to bear.

Sweet, sleepy Maisie should never be put in the same position.

Blake looked down at her, long eyelashes closed as she took in deep, punctuated breaths.

She stroked Maisie’s hair, tangled from the sun and water and a day filled with play.

It soothed something in Blake to rest here, too, her feet crossed at the ankles with an adorable five-year-old cuddled into her.

Blake inhaled and exhaled steadily, feeling Maisie’s soft breath on her arm, her curly hair tickling Blake’s skin.

She was warm and so relaxed and . . .

“Blake,” a soft voice called to her. She could feel a hand on her forehead, brushing her hair gently back, away from her face.

She blinked, trying to make sense of what was going on. The room was lit by a hazy glow, and she could have easily drifted back to sleep, even though when she stretched her neck, there was an ache on one side.

But it was so worth it when she felt Maisie, even more burrowed against her now, one of her hands thrown over Blake’s thigh like it was a stuffed animal.

“I fell asleep,” Blake admitted, even though the evidence was clear.

Monroe leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Blake’s forehead. “I know. And you looked so cute, so I decided not to wake you right away. Denny and Holland are both gone.”

The kiss was probably a lot like the ones she gave to Maisie, and Blake’s chest felt full from the softness of the moment.

For the life she’d led and all its privilege, she hadn’t ever felt especially taken care of. Definitely not emotionally.

Blake willed away the catch in her throat when Monroe extended her hand. She accepted it, making sure to lay Maisie down gently as she stood up.

Blake was coaxed forward until she was in Monroe’s arms. This spot was somehow even more comfortable than the sleep she’d just surrendered to.

“I’m sorry,” Blake said, self-conscious now that her faculties were coming back to her. She wasn’t sure if she crossed some parental-adjacent line by falling asleep in bed with Maisie.