Page 149 of The Right Kind of Wrong

But Blake had only smiled and patted her pockets. “Don’t worry. It’ll be there later.”

Monroe wrapped her fingers tighter around the steering wheel. She caught Blake’s eye again and cocked her head to the side, backward at Maisie.

No time like the present, she supposed.

Blake nodded.

She loved that they could do this. Communicate without ever having to say a single word.

There were so many things that Monroe had just never thought would be her reality. A healthy relationship. A home of her own. A quiet confidence inside of her that was finally extending to more than just her art.

Sure, it also came with some other unexpected things like a five-year-old child and that same relationship making her heart do all kinds of strange, off-tempo things that had her looking up heart attack symptoms on more than one occasion, but she felt like that was pretty normal.

Look at her.

Normal, stable Monroe Lockhart.

She was pretty sure that no one wore normalcy as a badge of pride as much as she did these days.

Even though she longed to reach across the center console and take Blake’s hand, she resisted the urge.

Overwhelmingly, she was expecting for this conversation to go well.

Or maybe it was just blind optimism.

Blake inspired a lot of that in her these days, which was wild to think about because trust didn’t come easily for Monroe. She’d always kept her circle small, and she preferred when her relationships were quid pro quo. It was easier that way, since it meant that she never had to step out onto a ledge and trust that someone would be there to catch her if she fell.

But Blake made her feel like, no matter what, she’d be there.

Now, she needed to trust that was the case.

Okay, she resolved. They were really doing this. Monroe was going to tell Maisie that she and Blake were girlfriends—something that she was still wrapping her mind around in the last hour—even though their day-to-day life screamed domestic bliss more than any title that they slapped on their relationship ever could.

Monroe’s stomach fluttered. She liked the idea of being Blake’s girlfriend.

A lot, in fact.

So, with that knowledge thrumming through her veins . . .

“Hey, Maisie?” she asked, catching Maisie’s eye in the rearview mirror.

Maisie swung her legs against her booster seat, wholly engrossed in the bag of mini pretzels she was eating. “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling about starting school next week?” Monroe asked, deciding to come in through the side door of the conversation.

Chicken.

In her defense, a lot of the blogs had said to start the conversation in a casual way during a quiet time like a car ride or while lounging at home.

Monroe had been planning to talk to Maisie over dinner if her conversation with Blake had gone well, but they were now playing Beat the Clock on whatever the hell was spreading across Cypress Falls like a stampede.

“Gonna learn to read,” Maisie said matter-of-factly. Proudly.

Monroe smiled at her in the mirror. “You sure are. You’ll be able to read me your bedtime stories. Won’t that be cool?”

“As a cucumber,” Maisie said before she started laughing maniacally at the joke.

God, she missed the simplicity of childhood. At least, her childhood before everything had gone off the rails.