Page 141 of The Right Kind of Wrong

For whatever Monroe felt her faults were when it came to raising Maisie, the effort and care that she took with her niece shouldn’t have been one of them.

Truly, there were none as far as Blake was concerned, but she was honest enough with herself to know that she was biased.

Most of all, she just loved getting to see Monroe like this. Focused but soft—in a way that Blake knew she wasn’t with many other people.

The clicking of heels across the polished floors pulled all of their attention.

A woman who looked to be in her mid-forties strode across the room, a look of contrition on her face. “So sorry, I was on a call in the office,” she said, extending her hand to Blake, who was closest. “Natalia Vásquez. I’m the owner.”

Natalia smelled like expensive perfume, similar to what Blake used to wear. And her outfit was definitely bespoke, a black, fitted dress that hugged her curves effortlessly. She was wearing bright-red lipstick that contrasted against her white teeth and light brown skin.

Blake, in comparison, suddenly felt like she was wearing a potato sack. She and Maisie had been traipsing around the city, so she was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that would hide any sweat. After the long day, she could only imagine what her hair, up in a ponytail, looked like.

Still, Blake shook her hand. “Blake Bettencourt,” she responded, immediately feeling the flush of embarrassment. Of course Natalia Vásquez didn’t need her full name.

But in Blake’s defense, this was her first time in an art gallery. At this point, she was following the instructions that Monroe gave Maisie, too.

Monroe slid in easily, extending her own hand. “Monroe Lockhart.” She dropped her hands back to Maisie’s shoulders. “And this is Maisie Lockhart.”

Did people actually give their full names at galleries, or was Monroe making sure she didn’t feel awkward? She had no idea how any of this worked.

“Art is for everyone,” Natalia told Maisie, beaming down at her. Then she seemed to realize something, and she looked up at Monroe, starting to tap her finger against her chin. Her eyes turned laser-sharp. “Monroe Lockhart . . . Yes! We were both at The Walker Gallery in Los Angeles last year. I’d been hoping to run into you, but our paths didn’t cross.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Monroe’s ears, just like her niece’s had, perked up. “I have a show at their New York gallery coming up, and it was a last-minute trip to see Nina Tolliver’s exhibition ahead of that.”

Suddenly, Natalia looked like she was meeting a celebrity. It was blowing Blake’s mind a little bit. Like yeah, she knew that Monroe was successful at what she did, but she’d never seen someone look so impressed, just by meeting her.

Blake ignored the way that it made her stomach squirm. Realizing just how special—to other people, specifically—Monroe actually was.

Blake already knew how fucking incredible Monroe Lockhart was, and for so many more reasons than just her art.

But there was no doubt about it; Natalia was definitely impressed. “I caught your last show in New York right before that and had been hoping to connect with you when I realized that we’d both be in Los Angeles. I tried reaching out to your agent, but it seemed like it didn’t fit in your schedule?” Natalia waved her hand, like this sort of thing happened all the time. Maybe it did. “No matter. What a happy accident that you came in today!”

Monroe had a strange look on her face, like she was annoyed at what Natalia was telling her. She didn’t comment on it, though, and when Blake looked at her again, it was gone. “I’m so sorry about that. I’d be happy to give you my direct contact information.”

Natalia’s whole face lit up. “I’d love that,” she responded quickly, already pulling out her phone. “What are you doing in Austin?”

“I relocated recently, and I’m about ninety minutes from here now. I’m doing a commercial project a few blocks away this weekend.”

Now, Natalia was practically salivating. And yeah, Blake knew the type of allure that Monroe held, but she couldn’t stop the prickle of jealousy that was working its way uncomfortably down her spine, making her stand up straighter.

“I know that Austin doesn’t have the reputation that New York or Los Angeles commands, but the art scene has been growing rapidly. A lot of tech money flowing in,” Natalia said matter-of-factly.

Great. Another wealthy, older woman with a penchant for art who wanted to draw Monroe into her web and never let go.

In Cypress Falls, it was easier to pretend that she and Monroe were in the same stratosphere, but on Monroe’s turf, it became wholly apparent that they were actually worlds apart.

There it was again. The uncomfortable bubble in Blake’s stomach, expanding outward.

Blake wasn’t sure if Monroe sensed her awkwardness or if she felt like it was rude to talk shop while her niece and… whatever Blake was… stood around watching. “Well, we’re about to grab dinner, but I’d love to connect with you about the gallery and what’s coming up,” she said gracefully, extending her hand to take Natalia’s phone.

Natalia handed it over quickly. “That would be fantastic. I get to New York every few months, and I’m definitely planning to catch your next show there. But absolutely I’d love to chat before then.”

After the obligatory slow exit, where Natalia continued to dispense compliments to Monroe while they moved toward the door, they found themselves out on the street again, the sun still high overhead.

Monroe held her hand over her eyes and stared at Blake and then Maisie with a look of utmost seriousness. “Now, what sounds good for dinner?”