Page 27 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“Beer?” she asked, lifting her shoulders before adding, “Since we’re going to be outside.”

A nod and a wry smile told Monroe that it wasn’t a bad suggestion at all. “Sure thing.”

Monroe turned her attention to Maisie. “Hon, do you want to play outside in the yard? That way I can keep an eye on you?”

Maisie put her hands on her hips, surprisingly forthright. “Will Miss Blake dance with me?”

“Not right now, but you’ll get to dance with her in class this week.” Monroe looked over at Blake then, just to make sure that she hadn’t misspoken or misread the request to come over, unintentionally interrupting a playdate between the two of them.

But Blake gave her an agreeable nod and smiled at Maisie, adding, “Pizza legs will be back in full force soon.” And then she did this really cute thing where she made a cross over her heart in promise at the same time that she executed a ballet maneuver that Monroe knew her legs would never be capable of achieving.

It took long seconds for Maisie to mull over the proposal, which she seemed to find acceptable when she said, “Okay. I wanna bring my Barbies outside.”

Monroe had the sense that that was something that her mom hadn’t allowed Maisie to do, but they were in uncharted waters here.

Monroe needed to go with the flow of the current; otherwise, she may just sink.

CHAPTER NINE

The last time that Blake had been in Monroe’s backyard, it had been dark out. She hadn’t noticed a lot—chalk it up to both the time of day and her tenuous mental state—but now, she could see that there was a retractable awning situated against the house.

She watched as Monroe pushed the button and the mechanical whir sounded, bringing shade along with it.

“I’ll grab us beers,” Monroe said as she disappeared into the house again, Maisie sliding gleefully past her with an armful of Barbie dolls.

In Blake’s defense, she hadn’t noticed a couple of things on her first visit, if she could call it that. The soft fairy lights bathing the yard. The beautiful ambiance of the deck and the spa and the shrubbery. The way curiosity had surged through her when she’d heard Monroe call out to her that night.

She’d told herself that that last one was because she’d had more than a few glasses of wine alone on her patio, as she spent most of her nights after dance class.

Monroe, thankfully, seemed content to move past Blake’s uninvited bursts into her life, first when she’d heard the fire alarm and then when she’d accidentally interloped on Monroe’s private conversation.

It wasn’t like Blake considered herself the most graceful of humans, but it was rare for her to put her foot in her mouth so many times in such short succession.

Luckily, she didn’t have to self-flagellate for much longer. Monroe returned with two beers and quickly uncapped one of them, but she held them both in her hands. “I really am happy to get you a glass of wine if you’d prefer it.”

“I promise you that beer is great,” she said and meant it. She extended her own hand and grabbed the bottle, popping off her own cap with a quick twist.

She liked the smile that earned her in response, something that looked like a mix of surprise and respect.

It was hard to be from small-town Texas and eschew a cold beer on a hot day, but it was a habit that she’d gotten into while married to Noah. Always keeping up appearances. Heaven forbid she gained any weight. Or, the horror of horrors, be seen slugging back a bottle instead of daintily sipping a glass of wine.

She shook her head, thinking about how stupid it all felt now.

“Were you coming from dance class today?” Monroe asked as she sat down on the same chair she’d been seated at the other night, an oversize, armless lounger that she sank back against before folding one of her legs under the other. When she was situated, she added, “I didn’t think they did lessons during the day.”

The strangest thing about meeting Monroe was that, for the first time in a long time, everything about her wasn’t automatically known. Monroe didn’t know about her divorce. About Gumby’s. About Noah and his new wife and their baby on the way.

And a part of her hated that she had to tell these things to Monroe, but another part of her enjoyed—or at least appreciated—actually having the chance to share information on her own terms.

It was a type of control that had been in short supply in her life lately.

Blake rolled her lips, choosing her words carefully. “They do have themed weeks during the summer, but you’re right. During the day I work at Gumby’s. The auto body shop on Main Street,” she clarified, in case Monroe didn’t remember it.

It wasn’t like she believed Monroe was exactly like the other people in this town—well, some of them—but she’d been working too damn hard to be embarrassed by her current state. Survival did that to a person. Embarrassment and pride were luxuries that had been pushed into some far recess of her mind, where she knew they existed but didn’t have the energy to give them the power they used to hold.

She knew that no one understood how unfavorably the divorce had gone for her, even if they could see signs of it in her new, run-down rental home and two jobs and complete disappearance from anything involving a social life—not that she’d have been invited if she tried.

Monroe’s eyebrows lifted gently, unsurprisingly. Blake didn’t get the sense that Monroe took glee in the misfortune of others.