Page 167 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“I just wanted to see you,” she answered honestly. “Sylvia came to my house a little while ago.”

A dark look flashed across Blake’s face, and she clenched her teeth. After a quick exhale that made her nostrils flare, she asked Monroe, “Are you okay? What did she want?”

She knew that Blake wasn’t jealous, exactly, over Monroe’s past relationship with Sylvia, but she still felt a little spark zip down her spine at the dour look her girlfriend wore. Like she would have gladly given Sylvia a piece of her mind if she’d been at Monroe’s house when she’d shown up unexpectedly.

Having someone in her corner, unconditionally, felt so fucking good.

Blake’s face softened then, and she stood up and crossed the few feet of space between them. As she stood in front of Monroe, they came together easily, as they often did these days. Monroe looped her arms around Blake’s waist at the same time that Blake wrapped her arms around Monroe’s shoulders.

They just fit.

Monroe loved that, too.

“She wanted to see the pieces. She also wanted to talk about future shows.”

For a brief second, Blake grew stiff in her arms. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were still considering working with her.”

Monroe shook her head. “I’m not. Never again. And I told her that,” she said, unable to keep the hint of pride from her voice.

Blake softened against her again, leaning in closer. “How do you feel about that? I would have supported you no matter what, but I hate the way that she took advantage of you. Controlled you.”

There it was again. The protectiveness in Blake’s voice that made Monroe feel so loved and taken care of. She hadn’t had someone who held that kind of space for her in too long.

But she did now.

Even before coming back to Cypress Falls, Monroe had understood, on some level, exactly what Blake had just pointed out, but it hadn’t been possible for her to think too deeply about it back then. Not when she was still living with Sylvia. Not when she was effectively working for her.

Time and space and Blake had made it possible for her to see all of it so much clearer.

“I really love you. You know that, right?” Monroe asked, hoping that Blake understood the true depth of her words.

She’d made Monroe feel like she could step up and raise Maisie. She’d made her feel like she was worthy of a healthy relationship, one that wasn’t built on the concept of quid pro quo. And, most importantly, she’d made Monroe feel safe.

Blake had become her safe place.

“I love you, too, Monroe.” Blake’s voice was full as emotion clearly surged through them both. She laughed as she said, “And I hope you still feel that way when my sister’s at your house all the time. I’ve gotten no fewer than a dozen texts today about how much fun all the Baldwin kids had on their playdate.”

Monroe still wasn’t sold on Grace, but it was clear yesterday that she’d really been trying. That she felt badly about the way she’d treated Blake and that she was working to make amends. From where Monroe stood, that would take a lot more than a few playdates.

Still, she was going to give Grace a chance.

It was what Blake wanted.

And as for what Monroe wanted . . . Well, that was Blake.

She pulled Blake flush against her. “I couldn’t imagine a few months ago that this is where we’d be. When I came home, everything felt so wrong. Now, I can’t imagine anything better.”

Blake nuzzled her nose against Monroe’s cheek, inhaling against her skin. “Funny how it all turned out to be exactly the right kind of wrong, then. Because I wouldn’t give up what we’re building for anything.”

As she kissed Blake’s temple, the truth of her words spread through Monroe, settling over her like a comforting blanket that made her feel safer than she’d ever thought possible. “Exactly the right kind of wrong.”

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

The weather was still warm even though they’d rolled into November.

A few days ago, Monroe had gotten back from New York—along with Blake and Maisie, who’d joined her—for her last gallery show under Sylvia’s patronage.