Page 150 of The Right Kind of Wrong

But Maisie was resilient. That much was evident.

For a split second, Monroe considered backing out. For as much as Maisie had settled into the new life that they were building together, she was fragile.

A lot more fragile than she let on, Monroe guessed.

She saw a lot of herself in her niece. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing when it came to her knowledge that, for everything Maisie did share with her, there were probably ten times as many emotions simmering below the surface, working through her young brain.

Was it too soon to tell her about Blake? About the two of them?

They were all in such a great place. Monroe and Blake basking in the newness of their relationship. Maisie settling into their new life as she continued to experience what felt like daily milestones.

At the store, Monroe had realized that Maisie had already gone up half a shoe size since she’d moved back to Cypress Falls that June. There were now physical markers that time was marching on, but more than that, there were the emotional ones.

Maisie was sleeping better at night. She was more playful and communicative. She sought comfort from Monroe whenever she was distressed about something.

Did Monroe really want to rock that boat?

Ugh. She needed to stop second-guessing herself.

Plus, whatever was going to spread around town would probably reach Maisie’s ears. Monroe and Blake needed to control the narrative and to make sure that Maisie felt included in the process.

All the blogs said so, anyway.

Looking over, Blake caught her gaze. “It’s okay,” she mouthed softly before taking a deep inhale, silently encouraging Monroe to do the same.

She followed Blake’s instructions without protest. Why would she fight her when she’d done nothing but show up for Monroe over and over again?

She'd done that even before they’d started anything romantic.

And that realization settled something in her. In this, she and Blake were a team.

Monroe took another steadying breath and caught Maisie’s eye in the mirror again. “I wanted to talk to you about something, kiddo.”

“Wassat?” Maisie asked curiously, her Texas lilt on full display.

Now or never. “You know how we spend a lot of time with Blake?” Monroe asked, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Duh.” Maisie pointed in front of her. “You’re here now, Miss Blake.”

Blake turned around slightly so that she could look at Maisie. “That’s because I just love spending time with the two of you.”

“Me too,” Maisie said, and Monroe could see her giving a cheesy smile in the mirror.

Still, Monroe had to tamp down on the nervousness fluttering through her stomach. “Well, Miss Blake is both of our friends, but she and I are also going to be girlfriends. That is, if it’s okay with you.”

Monroe let the words settle around them, which was possibly the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Monroe hadn’t realized it, but her hand had moved across the center console, near Blake’s thigh. And she hadn’t realized that it was Blake’s steadying palm enveloping her own that she’d been waiting for, to help quiet the anxious, uncertain feeling bubbling up inside of her.

She could practically hear the cogs in Maisie’s mind spinning. Finally, she asked, “Like my Barbies?”

“Exactly like your Barbies. And nothing between the three of us is going to change. We’ll all still hang out together sometimes. And you and I will still live in our house together. We’ll have our special routines and things that we do, just the two of us. How does that make you feel?”

Monroe made herself stop talking. The blogs—the goddamn blogs—said not to overcomplicate explanations or give too much information.

In the mirror, she could see Maisie’s face scrunching up in thought. “Will Miss Blake still be my dance teacher?” she asked seriously.

Not the first question she expected for Maisie to go for, but it was a nice softball in case things devolved.