The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (carter reed TXT) 📗

and that was not the right response, not by a mile, but I wasn't going to watch her lie to herself. "Then stop repainting walls. Do something else. Do whatever the fuck you want but only because you want to do it."

"Maybe I want to run a candidate farm. Have you considered that? Maybe I want to shake up Northern California. It's a lot less progressive than people expect."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is that right?"

"Very much. I can't ignore the opportunity to do something important."

"It's interesting how you can't ignore this but you can ignore your own needs and interests indefinitely."

An irritable sound rattled in her throat. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Why can't you stop punishing yourself?"

The look on her face—I thought I'd seen every shade of Jasper's fury but I was wrong. Irrevocably wrong. "You have no clue what you're talking about."

"No? Really? You're sure about that?" Her only response was a glare that reminded me of the day we met—and how my first impression was that she could destroy humans without breaking a sweat. "You worked for Timbrooks to spite your backward family. You stayed married to a guy after he left the country. You forced yourself to stay in Midge's cottage despite the squalor over there, and you've chosen to be a victim the past few months rather than the hero everyone who's fed up with the bullshit political games thinks you are."

"Once again, you know everything about me."

"Once again," I countered, "I know what I see. For fuck's sake, Jasper, you dressed as Cruella de Vil for Halloween because you think you are some awful devil woman."

"Would you just get over the Cruella thing? My god. I knew I should've said I was Moira Rose but I figured kids wouldn't understand the Schitt's Creek reference."

She tossed the paper towel to the table and closed her fingers around the back of a chair. Her hair was a wreck, as if she'd been shoving her fingers through it, and her eyes were swollen. She looked like she'd lived through something significant the same way people in hundred-year-old photographs did. Haunted, wary—and un-fucking-stoppable. She was still standing and she wasn't going to let me forget it.

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything about Halloween. But ask yourself, really ask, whether you want to move to California and let another job swallow your life whole."

She shook her head impatiently. "I can't just stay here forever."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" she repeated, the words climbing into a screech. "Because what am I then, Linden? Living in your house and wandering through the woods with you while I figure myself out—what is that?"

"It's exactly what you need."

"How can you say that? I mean, did you really think I could abandon my entire professional life just because I didn't love every moment of my work? Because that was never going to happen. I was always returning to that world, one way or another."

I rocked back on my heels as her words hit home. "So, that's it? This is where it ends?"

There was a moment where the stubborn set of her jaw slipped and she looked far less certain about her plans, though it was only a moment. Vanished before it truly existed. Then, "This would be easier if you were happy for me."

A lot of things would make this easier but that wasn't one of them.

"It only matters that you're happy," I replied. "You never wanted me to be part of this equation. My opinion shouldn't matter to you." Since another minute of this conversation was going to succeed in tearing my limbs from my body, I took a giant step back and snatched up my keys. "I'm gonna take off. Stay here tonight or don't. It's up to you. I won't be here either way."

"Linden, don't—"

"Nope, it's good." I held up a hand to stop her because I couldn't. I couldn't live through any more of this. I couldn't stay, not with her in my house and all these things I wanted to say to her, to beg of her. And I couldn't survive the night with her next door. I couldn't do any of this. I couldn't put myself through this only to watch her drive away. "Listen, I hope you get everything you want out in California. Your blood is probably too thin for a New England winter anyway. But you know where I am if you change your mind." I backed out of the kitchen, reached behind me for the knob. "Good luck out there."

I didn't wait for a response before slamming the door.

27

Jasper

I was on the first flight out of Boston the next morning and I spent every minute of the five and a half hours in the air telling myself Linden was wrong about everything.

He had to be wrong.

I wasn't punishing myself for anything. That was ludicrous. It didn't even make sense.

I kept telling myself that because if I stopped fuming for even half a second, I was going to fall apart and I couldn't have that before I met Dino and his associates.

Besides, I wasn't the kind of woman who fell apart. Not when it mattered and this mattered. Yeah, my research last night—which I did after stomping around Midge's house for a good hour—revealed the NCVC had a lot less cash on hand than I would've liked and their operations seemed to push the definition of shoestring, but the early years with Timbrooks were like that too. And start-up organizations were fun! They were fun. Everyone worked hard and had fun.

It would be great. I'd missed working with an eager new team where everyone was obsessed with the possibilities ahead rather than choking on jaded bile. It would be hard though, and a ton of work. Long days, long weeks. But it would be great.

There was a lot to love about fresh starts. I'd have to learn everything about the region and figure it out on the fly but I'd