The Belle and the Beard (The Santillian Triplets, #3)

by Kate Canterbary

knew little of hobbies, and my entire personal network was a product of my profession, and none of that seemed like a problem until now. If anything, it had been a badge of honor. Look, I'm so deep into this, I can't recognize myself without it! My life was my work but I didn't have my work anymore and I didn't know what to do with myself except keep going.

But my life has many facets and the people I spend time with should be reflective of that. I can't throw myself all in one direction and still expect to feel whole."

As uncomfortable as I found this conversation, a small, fragile piece of me also liked when he took charge. When he insisted. I didn't want to like it, I didn't want to feel seen and protected because he noticed me leaving the coffee—and the hot water—for him. I didn't want to be needy in this way. And that was why I pressed my hands to my eyes and let my shoulders fall, saying, "But I can't. Okay? I can't."

"Okay, then why are we yelling?" Linden rolled his eyes. "Because you think it's a crime to take up space even though I want you to take it. I want you to take as much of me as you want." There were so many layers of discomfort for me in this conversation. I never wanted to admit to keeping myself small or tiptoeing around people. I never wanted to acknowledge that the confidence that entered a room ahead of me was paper thin and dependent upon situations where my role and power were clear. I never wanted to be weak, helpless, voiceless.

"Because I want to hold you, and if you'd stop acting like you don't need anyone for just a minute, you might decide you want to be held." She folded the blanket and fiddled with her drink. "I don't want to need anyone or anything. That isn't a place I like being." "I know." I took the bottle from her hands, set it down. "But I'm standing here, needing you.

deep voice in my head asked, How long have you hated your job? And that was the first time I had a specific answer to his question. I'd hated it since the work stopped being about the possibility of positive change and making good trouble—about the idealism of it all—and started being about tricks and games and manufactured scandals. When the people turned into an afterthought. When the senator's votes turned into commodities available for sale. When I placed winning above all else.