Page 38 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“Friend, huh? I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve had one of those,” Monroe admitted quietly, eyes searching Blake’s face.

Without overthinking it, Blake grabbed Monroe’s hand and squeezed, Monroe’s palm soft and warm against her own. “Then it’s settled.”

Because, even if she didn’t quite know where the two of them could end up, she liked the idea of having someone to call a friend, too.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Blake Bettencourt - 2:10 p.m.

How’s it going? All quiet today?

Monroe smiled, unsurprised to be hearing from Blake after last night. She hadn’t doubted the woman’s earnestness then, and her text to check in today only solidified her offer of friendship.

She hadn’t realized how lonely—how alone—she’d been feeling with the weight of taking care of Maisie on her unprepared shoulders.

Monroe glanced across the table at Maisie, who was shoveling a taco into her mouth like her life depended on it. She snapped a quick picture and sent it.

Monroe Lockhart - 2:10 p.m.

We decided to drive to Austin for the weekend. Figured that Maisie and I needed to make some new traditions

Blake Bettencourt - 2:10 p.m.

I love that! Take lots of photos!

Monroe smiled down at her phone, heartened for whatever the weekend had in store.

She’d woken up this morning to Maisie standing at the edge of her bed, eyes big and mournful. “Can I cuddle with you?” she’d asked, her little chin wobbling, cutting straight through Monroe.

Monroe had immediately scooted deeper into the bed, pulling back the covers for Maisie to join her. “Always.”

And she meant it. Something inside of Monroe had solidified last night. She was really doing this

All in, no matter what happened.

That meant the bad just as much as the good. It also meant that she couldn’t just keep doing the same old thing and expecting a different outcome.

That feeling had only been bolstered as Maisie leaned into her and she stroked the young girl’s hair. She’d never come to Monroe for comfort like this. It made Monroe feel all kinds of soft to hear Maisie breathing steadily next to her.

Finally, Monroe had asked, even though she’d been worried about disrupting their delicate balance, “Do you want to talk about yesterday? I had a lot of big feelings. Maybe you did, too?”

At first, Maisie had pushed her head into the pillow, letting out a petulant huff of air that forced Monroe to hold back a laugh. Especially when Maisie said, “I just get grumpy sometimes.”

Monroe kept stroking Maisie’s hair. “I get grumpy sometimes, too. And I miss your grandma a lot. It makes me sad. And sometimes when I’m really sad, it makes me mad. Because I don’t like feeling that way.”

Maisie looked up at her then, blue eyes unblinking. “I feel like that, too,” she whispered, like she was sharing a secret between them.

“So,” Monroe suggested, “maybe sometimes we can be grumpy together. I don’t know anyone else who’s going through this either, and it would be nice to have someone to share my feelings with. Do you think that’s something that you’d want to do with me, too? Share your feelings sometimes, when they get too big to handle on your own?” Monroe held her breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. For Maisie to push out of the bed and scream that she didn’t want Monroe and start them off on the cycle all over again.

If she did, Monroe would tail after her, remaining patient until Maisie was ready to talk to her. For as long as it took.

Monroe may be lost and scared, but what she was experiencing paled in comparison to the instability and loss that Maisie had experienced.

Finally, Maisie answered her. “I guess that could be okay.”

“I know that I’m not Nana, and I’m not going to try to be. She was so, so special, Maisie. I know you didn’t see me and Nana together, but she was my favorite person in the whole wide world.” Tears sprang to Monroe’s eyes, but they weren’t the heavy, overwhelming ones she’d shed last night.

These were softer, shed for the unfairness of it all—Monroe’s silent acknowledgment of that fact.