Beg, Borrow, or Steal (When in Rome, #3)

by Sarah Adams

Hello, little honey bees. You glorious, sharp-edged, perfection seekers. You’ve been working so hard, holding everything together; come sit down with me for a while and take a load off.

The best thing to hold onto in life is each other. —Audrey Hepburn

As all good and unbearable perfectionists know, if you want something done right, you mostly have to do it yourself.

Whoever said time heals all wounds was a damn liar, because sometimes my heart hurts the worst from the memories that time has erased.

I would rather be waterboarded than have someone ask me if I’m okay. Especially when my answer is no.

This is why Jack is so easily loved by everyone. He has this uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing when it needs to be said. I usually go for saying the wrong thing and watching the room explode.

“My dad is a narcissist. I don’t mean it in a hyperbolic way either. I’m pretty certain that he is an actual narcissist. My life growing up…it was painful a lot. And I quickly learned that saying what I truly thought or felt could get turned on me in an instant. Honesty, vulnerability…those things were what I got rid of first. And then I learned the art of reading him. Reading his moods and his energy and becoming what I needed to be to get through the day and to protect my mom from his shit. That mechanism bled into the rest of my life too…mostly by accident. I read people and adapt before I even realize I’m doing it. It’s usually not until later when I’m sitting alone, and I feel hollow and used and upset that I realize I betrayed myself in some way. And so often…I’m scared that all this reading and maneuvering people—even if it’s with the right intent—is somehow going to turn me into him. So when you made that comment—” I shut my eyes. “The ‘monster in private’ one…” He nods slowly. “It terrified me.”

PS. You could never be a side character.