Page 146 of The Right Kind of Wrong

The truth was, there was nowhere else Blake would rather be.

“I know. I just . . .” The fingers tracing patterns on Blake’s arm stilled.

“Just what?”

From the way that her body tightened against Blake, she could tell that Monroe was wrestling with something. “I feel guilty sometimes. It seems like you’re always being forced to do whatever Maisie has going on or stuff for me, like this weekend.”

Blake’s mind was a little bit blown right now. She couldn’t imagine a world in which spending time with the two of them wasn’t the perfect day. “I like doing stuff with you both.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to. What I’m saying is that I’ll try not to be a freak if you have your own things going on. I just want you to be happy, Blake.”

Did Monroe really not realize that spending time with Monroe and Maisie was the thing that made Blake the happiest? That it made her feel centered and appreciated and so damningly soft that she moved through the world like she was floating?

And that wasn’t even getting into the sex.

Blake looked past Monroe to make sure that Maisie was still sleeping. The way that she was starfished facedown on the bed gave Blake her answer. “Is this about anything in particular?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “I thought that we were in a good place.”

Maybe Monroe had sensed how invested Blake was, and she was trying to pull back a little bit to lessen the sting.

“We are,” Monroe confirmed quickly, thankfully starting to massage Blake’s arm again. “But I don’t want you to feel like we’re holding you back.”

Blake let out an aggrieved sound. “That’s a ridiculous thing to think.”

“You very recently came out, Blake,” Monroe pointed out.

Did Monroe actually want Blake out in the world, trying to flirt or sleep with or date other women? She knew that she’d absolutely hate it if the roles were reversed.

Blake wasn’t confident in a lot of areas, but she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that wasn’t what she wanted. “I’m aware. I was there.”

Monroe rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’m trying to have an honest conversation here.”

Blake tried to figure out how to explain it. “I’m not one of those people who wants to try a million flavors of things. I like what I like.”

Monroe bit her lip, and Blake could see that there was something she really wanted to say. Finally, Monroe challenged her with, “But what about Noah? You didn’t really love him, and you stayed with him for thirteen years.”

It wasn’t a slap in the face, but it felt pretty darn close. More than anything because there was apparently a world in which Monroe felt like she and Noah had anything in common regarding how Blake felt about each of them.

Sitting up straighter, Blake leveled Monroe with a look that she hoped conveyed how vehemently she disagreed. “I beg to differ.”

Monroe held her hands up. “I promise I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just don’t want you to look back and feel like you missed out on anything. I would hate that for you. And you just seemed sort of quiet at dinner and then after. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out why that would be.” Monroe scrubbed her hands across her face. “Gah. I’m so bad at this kind of thing. Should I have led with that first?”

Blake smiled, in spite of the strange flutter of emotions still whirring through her. “That could have been a better entry point, yes. But if you have concerns about us, I want you to tell me. That’s the only way that this works, okay?”

Would Blake be able to take that advice, too?

Maybe, but she could at least start with Monroe’s points. “So you’re afraid that I’m going to feel like I’m missing out on sowing my wild, gay oats?”

An image of a rainbow-colored pony flitted through her mind.

Not helpful, Blake.

“A little bit,” Monroe admitted. “You are so incredible, Blake. I wasn’t expecting this—expecting you—at all. And now I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t around.”

Monroe grew quiet, contemplative. The silence stretched out between them until Blake took Monroe’s hand in her own, interlacing their fingers.

Monroe finally continued, “I’m scared.” The words were a soft admission that cut straight through Blake. “And I’m trying to temper my expectations, but all I want to do is be around you, all the time. But if you haven’t noticed from the way things with the rest of my family worked out, we don’t exactly have a great track record. This just feels too good to be true, and for someone like me, that’s not a comforting feeling.”

The smile that Blake had been tempering took over her whole face, her earlier fears about her future with Monroe being pushed to the outer edges of her consciousness. They still lingered, of course, but how could they take center stage when Monroe was saying all of these beautiful and wonderful things to her?