The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

A headache was gathering behind my eyes, a dark, heavy cloud of pressure born from too little sleep and too much coffee. I squinted in response to the pain but that only diffused it into my temples, the base of my neck. The smart course of action involved leaving this greenery, drinking a ton of water, eating a meal that didn't come in a cup from Dunkin' Donuts.

Yet I stayed here, my fingers flexing and my head throbbing, my throat dry and my body strung tight from too many days spent wondering what the hell was going on with Jasper. Whether she was all right. How anyone could leave her and leave so abruptly. It seemed abrupt to me. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe…I didn't know. Maybe there was an explanation, like she was hoping he'd come back for her. "There's something wrong with that? I had no idea. No one ever mentioned it."

My mother whirled around and ducked under the branches of a lilac tree to face me. She folded her arms over her chest, her persimmon cardigan clashing with the thunderous glint in her eyes. She stared at me until I was certain that thunder was real, that it was rumbling in my ears and threatening to kick up a downpour.

"Linden, listen to me. Of all my babies, I've given you the most time to find your way. You were the last to arrive and you did so well when I stopped expecting you to follow anyone else's path."

I stared at my mother, unmoved by the millionth reminder that I pulled up the rear of the Santillian triplets on all things, born about thirty minutes behind my brother and sister and damned to a lifetime of last-place comparison.

She tapped her index finger twice as if hammering her thesis to my sternum. "You've never been in a rush like Ash or lost like Magnolia but you have been alone—and I don't believe that's what you truly want from your life."

"And that's why I'm—what is it, full of emotional shit? Because I'm alone? As you love to remind me, I have plenty of friends."

"I don't have to explain to you the difference between that kind of company"—she pinned me with the most unimpressed stare in human history—"and meaningful emotional connections."

I was very interested in offering a quip about sex being an especially meaningful connection if you did it right but I could still hear her thunder inside my head and she would totally send me to my room without supper. Even if I lived in my own home and cooked for myself.

"All right." I jerked my shoulders up with as much acquiescence as I had to offer. "You make some fine points. I will think about them. Sorry for worrying you."

"Oh, no, no, no." A brisk laugh cracked out of her as she dropped her hands to her hips. "No, Linden, you are not getting off easy with a hangdog shrug and some 'sorry, Mom.'"

"What did you have in mind?"

After flaying me with a stare, she crossed to the autumn annuals arranged on waist-high tables. She didn't need another dozen chrysanthemums to clutter the front steps but I wasn't going to be the one to take up that fight.

"Your father and I are celebrating our fortieth anniversary this year," she called over her shoulder while I trailed behind her. "We haven't finalized all the details yet but we're throwing ourselves a big party. We didn't want to wait for our fiftieth. That seems like a terrible way to tempt fate."

"Don't say shit like that." I shook my head as she gave a quick shrug and tucked a few strands of hair over her ear, as if she hadn't thrown a mortality grenade into this discussion. "Just…don't say shit like that, Mom."

"We won't be around forever. There's no reason to pretend otherwise."

"I know that. I get it. Okay? But we've covered a fuckton of messy topics today. I'm going to need you to hold the circle of life convo for another time."

My mother offered a series of grumbles, sighs, and harrumphs before returning to fully formed words, eventually saying, "We're planning a party for November or December. Probably November because we don't want to compete with holiday gatherings and your sister's due date."

"That sounds delightful." I was aiming for sincerity with that comment but also hoping like hell I didn't have to help plan the menu or hire a band.

"You won't have to do anything other than show up," she said, and that wasn't the first time my mother had more or less read my mind. "But I expect you to bring someone special. Someone you care about." She tossed open her hands. "Or two people. Whatever your arrangement is, as many people as you want to love, Linden. Whomever your heart chooses."

Of all the fucking things, the memory of Jasper crying on her porch chose this moment to flood my mind.

What the actual fuck was that?

Just…fuckkkk. No. Not that.

Jasper aside, I didn't want to experience any form of heart-choosing. I wasn't like my brother or sister. My heart didn't choose anyone because it didn't want anyone. My heart loved solitude with some fun thrown in when the mood was right. My heart craved the predictable cadence of the earth moving through seasons. My heart wanted to beat free of entanglements.

My family was enough for me. I had my siblings and the families they were creating. That was enough. It was plenty.

"Mom, I hear where you're coming from," I said with as much patience as I could manage. "And I appreciate it, I do. But look. It's almost October. I'm not going to meet anyone and develop this epic relationship before your anniversary party."

"Yes, you are."

That was it. Just "Yes, you are" and a firm bob of her head and a pert grin that made me stand up taller and straighten my shoulders.

"And don't think you can bring a hookup friend or someone you met that week and play it