Page 151 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Monroe looked toward Blake, who confirmed, “Absolutely. I’ll still be your dance teacher.”

Maisie pursed her lips, squinting. “And you’ll still play with me?” she asked, another question directed to Blake.

Monroe was really feeling like second fiddle, but she didn’t take it personally.

If anything, it was a really positive sign that Maisie didn’t seem at all concerned that anything with Monroe would change.

And it wouldn’t, but if Monroe had trust issues, she couldn’t imagine what Maisie was grappling with given the last couple of years of her life.

Blake’s voice was soft when she said, “I will always play with you, Maisie. You’re one of my favorite people in the whole wide world.”

Maisie’s eyes lit up. “You’re one of my favorite people.”

Blake turned around again, letting go of Monroe’s hand. “Plus, who will help me pull the blanket back from your aunt Monroe when she’s hogging it while we watch movies?”

Maisie laughed then, delighted at the mention of what Monroe could only describe as a gruesome, ongoing game of tug-of-war that always left Monroe out in the cold—literally.

“I don’t hog the blankets,” she disagreed.

She didn’t even need to see it to know that Blake and Maisie were giving each other knowing glances at her expense.

Somehow, that only made her love⁠—

Oh.

Oh.

Monroe had known, intellectually, that this was where they were headed. Sleeping together turned into dating, which turned into a relationship, which turned into . . . love.

She just hadn’t expected to get there so fast.

Pushing her hair off her shoulders, she tried to find some solace from the heat winding its way through her body.

“Monroe,” Blake said from next to her, pulling Monroe away from her thoughts. “You missed our turn.”

Monroe blinked. She’d been so distracted that she’d driven right past the road that would lead back to their neighborhood. Quickly, she turned on her blinker to take the next right, down a parallel street.

Once they were headed in the right direction, she refocused on making sure that Maisie was okay. “I want you to talk to me—or Blake—anytime that you have questions, okay? Nothing is too big or too small. And I’ll check in with you, too, okay?”

She could hear Maisie popping another pretzel in her mouth and chewing for long, loud seconds before she asked, “Okay. What are we having for dinner?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Grace Baldwin née Bettencourt appeared in Blake’s doorway the next morning, just as the clock struck eleven.

Blake had to assume that Mary Ann had told Grace where to find her since her sister had never set foot in her office before this moment.

And, technically, she hadn’t yet.

She wore a classic Grace summer outfit: a modest maxi dress with billowing half sleeves and a flowery pattern, accessorized with a pair of cowboy boots. Her makeup was immaculately done in soft hues that made her look every bit as demure and unassuming as she wanted to project.

Like Blake, she was a brunette with soft, brown eyes, and growing up, if they’d been closer in age, they could have passed for twins.

The kids weren’t with her, which meant she’d dropped them all off at a friend’s house or called in a babysitter.

And judging by the look on her face, she was serious.

None of this surprised Blake.