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

by Kate Canterbary

All I wanted to do was get inside, plug in my toaster oven, and sleep for twenty to thirty hours. Forty if my need for sustenance didn't win out in the middle. That was it—toast, sleep, and solitude,

On any other day, I would've dismantled that little analysis of his. I would've countered a circle around him and done it with so much southern-girl sweetness, he wouldn't realize he'd been bested until long after he'd left me blissfully alone.

"Please don't give it a second thought," she interrupted. Funny thing, she said all these nice words and she made them sound sweet as hell but she was actually slapping you back into your place. If I wasn't totally fucking annoyed about everything right now, I'd admire it.

One of my worst habits was my tendency to ignore things I didn't want to deal with. At this point, it was probably more of a personality trait than a habit. If I could navigate around something, even if it demanded more time and energy from me, I'd do it in a damn heartbeat. I avoided my banking app when I knew I was running low on cash. If I didn't look, I wouldn't panic over money. I pulled back from relationships that didn't work anymore. If I didn't participate, I wouldn't have to acknowledge the problems. I unfollowed my nutty, conspiracy-theory-addled cousins on social media. If I didn't see their posts, I wouldn't have to engage with them on batshit crazy ideas.

On the other side of my compulsive avoidance of unpleasant topics sat my compulsive drive to get it done. Though I was completely unemployable at the moment, one of my most attractive professional qualities was my ability to plow through any problem.

"You don't have to try and fix everything." "Actually, I do."

Earning a college degree? Elitist.

Home wasn't an option, and that was an ancient ache but it didn't trouble me. I'd solved that problem ages ago. There was no sense being sad about it now.

"There's a difference between relying on yourself and insisting you don't need anyone under any circumstance." He waved an irritable hand at the house. "It just means you went through a fuckton of shit alone and haven't realized it's not supposed to be that way."

And haven't you ever stayed in something too long because ending it would be irrevocable, even if it was inevitable?"

"Because years are not wasted. You were alive. You lived those years.

"You know how people do it? They decide to fuck the plan. Seriously. Fuck the plan. Walk in the woods. Reject anyone's definition of success. Abandon expectations. Listen to your heartbeat. Take no one's shit."

You stayed because you didn't want to start over, didn't want to work your way up all over again. You stayed because you felt important there. You stayed because you wanted to prove to your family you were better and smarter and more capable than they said you'd ever be. You stayed because you wanted to prove it to yourself. Because you wanted to believe it.

"Nothing blooms in every season," I said. "You shouldn't expect that of yourself when it doesn't occur in nature."

I'd always wanted to be scooped up and carried to bed, even if it was very unrealistic.

"Do you gradually reshape your ideals as time passes?" Was that even possible? Was it a matter of bartering away your ideals or finding new ones that fit better? I didn't know but I had the sense people weren't supposed to be one stationary, static thing their entire lives. People were supposed to live a lot of lives in their time on this planet. They were supposed to reinvent themselves and reevaluate their beliefs. They were supposed to look back and shake their head at the things they did before they knew better. They were supposed to get all the second chances.

I thought about all the lives we were allowed to live with the time we had, and I whispered into her hair, "I wish you were mine to keep."

This was a detour, right? This wasn't my destination.

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."

Much like my own identity, it was about minds and hearts, not parts.

For me, I was always the bossy big sister, the one who got shit done and made sure everyone else got theirs done too.

"I needed to give myself permission to start over. I didn't think I was allowed to do that.

It didn't mean the life we'd lived wasn't worth treasuring. It meant it was time for me to go in a new direction and I couldn't persecute myself over that choice. I couldn't hate myself for walking away from things that hurt me."

"What if I mess that up too? What if I never get it right?" "Then you live a life filled with new experiences. There's no limit on the number of acts in your play. You get as many as you want. You just have to keep getting on stage."