Page 40 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Their tenuous relationship didn’t leave any room for Monroe to lie, so she’d been honest. Blake had mentioned that she wanted photos, and Monroe was fulfilling that request.

First, she’d snapped shots of Maisie at the taco truck. Then from a bridge at dusk, when they’d watched a massive—and terrifying—bat colony emerge along the downtown skyline.

Today, before it had gotten too hot, they’d wandered around South Congress Avenue to check out the murals, which meant that Monroe got to geek out about her own biggest interest—art. She was sure that Maisie had been more amenable given her brand-new pair of cowboy boots and the bag of candy as big as her head that Monroe was currently hauling around in her backpack.

None for you? Blake had texted this morning, when she’d snapped a photo of Maisie wearing her new boots.

And maybe that comment had made Monroe blush, just a little, before she told Blake that she’d get her own cowboy boots when she had an actual reason for them.

“I’ve got to move back so that I can get you and the dinosaur in the shot. Okay?” She waited until Maisie let go of her hand and nodded before stepping backward, keeping Maisie in sight.

Monroe waited for long seconds as the world’s slowest group passed by, until it was just Maisie in the foreground of the shot.

“Three . . . two . . . one!” She called to Maisie. The little girl stretched out her arms like they were wings, mirroring the fossil’s pose.

By the late afternoon, they’d exhausted the museum—and their feet. At least this place had a parking lot, which Monroe eased her SUV out of slowly.

“What do you want to do for dinner, kiddo? We’ve had tacos. We’ve had barbecue. We’ve had pancakes. How many more foods are actually left for us to eat?”

Monroe watched in the mirror as Maisie rubbed her belly, her feet dangling over her booster seat. “Whew. Lotta food,” she said excitedly.

“What about fried chicken? Feels like a great last big meal for the trip.” She took in Maisie’s frown before asking, “Is that a no on the fried chicken?”

“Do we really have to go home tomorrow? I’m havin’ fun,” Maisie said seriously, swinging her legs as much as her seat would allow.

Monroe’s heart clenched. “We do need to head home tomorrow, but we can always come back. Is that something you’d like?”

If she wasn’t almost a month out of doing any work on her show, she’d have probably told Maisie they could stay here as long as she wanted, just to hear the excitement in her voice.

“Yes!” Maisie cheered, pumping one of her arms. “Can we still get fried chicken? Will you tell Miss Blake?”

Apparently, they’d both taken a liking to Blake, and it almost made Monroe feel less ridiculous for privately documenting their entire weekend for one person, the person who’d seen her at her absolute worst. She had probably only asked for updates because she was worried Monroe was on the verge of throwing herself into the Colorado River.

Sylvia would kill for even a tenth of this enthusiasm when it came to Monroe providing updates on her show, but Monroe liked the little words of encouragement Blake sent, along with what seemed like genuine interest in what she and Maisie had going on.

Sharing was nice.

Maybe she should start taking a page out of the playbook for five-year-olds. Sharing. Caring. Learning to regulate her emotions.

That last one was difficult to honor, though, if the snap decision she made to call Blake from her car was anything to go by.

It took a few seconds for Blake to pick up. “Hey,” she said, like she was a little out of breath. “What’s up?”

“Well, Maisie wanted me to let you know we’re getting fried chicken for dinner. But we’re in the car, so I figured it’d just be easier for me to call.”

“Hi, Miss Blake,” Maisie hollered from the back seat, leaning forward to make sure that her voice was heard.

“But if this is a bad time⁠—”

“No,” Blake cut in quickly. “I was in the shower and didn’t hear my phone ringing. Glad I caught you guys.”

Monroe ignored the shower comment. Otherwise, she would have to think about the fact that Blake was having this conversation right now in only a towel. Or less.

“How’s the trip going?” Blake asked, her voice softer than Monroe had been expecting.

Maisie was leaning forward as much as her seat belt allowed, insistent on not missing a thing. Blake had that effect on all the members of the Lockhart family, it seemed. “We saw dinosaurs today!” Maisie yelled.

Monroe glanced behind her, now that they were stopped again. “Inside voice, Mais. She can hear you, I promise.”