Page 124 of The Right Kind of Wrong

He should be able to hold Gumby’s—sorry, Ben’s—hand while walking down the street. To sneak a quick kiss in public, just because. Hell, he should be able to sit next to him in church if he wanted.

She wasn’t surprised when Denny shook his head. “Everywhere is judgmental. Everyone has some idea of how other people should be living.”

Monroe disagreed quickly. “Because of choices that people make, not because of who they are fundamentally.”

Denny’s eyes grew sad, his voice full of resignation when he said, “You left, Roe. And I’m happy for you, but it’s not really fair for you to blow back into town and tell everyone else how they should be living. We’re all just doing the best we can. Of course I wish that the town was different. And maybe Ben and I could go public as a couple and it would be totally fine. He and I have just decided that it’s not something we want to do right now.”

Guilt sliced through her like a dull knife, leaving uneven edges that made it hard for her to keep it together.

The goddamn tears were back, welling behind her eyes and threatening to unleash themselves onto her cheeks.

She took a deep breath and tried to stave them off, taking a moment to glance over at Maisie again before looking Denny in the eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how things have been here for the last decade. And I shouldn’t be telling you how to live your life. Do you forgive me?” she asked, desperately meaning it.

She couldn’t bear to be the one to make Denny look the way he did now, like someone had kicked a puppy right in front of him.

He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I love you, Roe. Nothing’s going to change that. But . . .”

“But what?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Well, I think I deserve a little honesty for my troubles. What is going on with you and Blake? And don’t blow me off again. I told you about Ben, and fair is fair.” He nodded, like the matter had been settled in his mind.

And Denny did deserve that, even if he was going low to get it, preying on her sympathies.

She’d shut him out for too long, and she had a whole decade to make up to him. Plus, as annoying as it was, he was right. If he wanted to stay in Cypress Falls, toeing a line that Monroe didn’t think should exist, it was his prerogative.

It’s not like she was running up and down Main Street declaring that Blake Bettencourt was the most attractive person she’d ever met.

“Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on with Blake. I like her. A lot. She’s determined and thoughtful and funny and resilient and so fucking sexy that I can hardly believe that I get to touch her.” Monroe blew out a breath, not having realized that it would all tumble out so quickly.

But it was the truth.

The idea of Blake didn’t come close to comparing to the reality of who she was as a person. And the fact that she wanted to share herself with Monroe?

Absolutely unreal.

“But?” Denny asked, keeping his hand wrapped around her own.

“I left Cypress Falls, and I didn’t plan on ever looking back.”

Denny shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re here now.”

“I beg to disagree,” she argued, starting to work herself up again. “And I just don’t know what she wants from me. Besides our . . .” She searched for the right word.

“Dalliances?” Denny supplied with a grin. In response to Monroe’s impressed look, he added, “Ben’s a big reader. He’s gotten me into it, too.”

“I’m so thrilled for you,” she said drolly. Genuinely, she was over the moon for him. It just happened that sarcasm was their love language, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

“How about you let Uncle Denny play babysitter tomorrow night?” he offered. “You and Blake could go out somewhere?”

Butterflies exploded in Monroe’s stomach at the idea, even as she tried to stave them off. “We said we were keeping things casual.”

“Friends hang out in public places all the time. I’ll have you know that Ben and I are regulars at the pool hall on Tuesday nights. Toughest team west of the Mississippi.” With his free arm, he flexed his bicep.

Monroe rolled her eyes and bit back a laugh. She clocked another glance at Maisie, who’d just lost what had to be her tenth game of killing zombies. She wasn’t sure what kind of dreams—or nightmares—that would elicit, and she grimaced. At least the game was mostly pixellated.

“I’m gonna grab another Coke. You want anything?” Denny asked, already sliding out of the booth.

Monroe shook her head—her stomach was already flip-flopping too uncomfortably to add any more liquid—and Denny disappeared past her toward the bar.