46. one step forward

46

ONE STEP FORWARD

Eight days later, the plan for my amends to myself comes—as arguably all good ideas do—in the shower. The prior moments aren't a high point in my life, comprised of me sitting with my knees to my chest, sobbing my guts out, while the hot water slowly turns cold. Only after the picturesque experience of nearly choking on snot do I take a breather and drag myself to my feet.

Leaning on the wall, I stare sightlessly at the frosted-glass shower doors. I'm not thinking of anything in particular, my brain and body exhausted from running in ceaseless circles since Christmas. I've done everything in my power to keep busy, working as much overtime as possible and spending downtime with friends and family.

As I told Dr. Wilson yesterday, I'm not avoiding the unfinished business between Leo and me so much as waiting for a sign. Some internal ah-ha! moment that means I'm ready to face him. To face the truth. Even though each day is glazed with the ache of missing Leo and Vince, the last thing I want is to act impulsively. There's a child in the mix, and things are no doubt already confusing for him.

Whatever move I make next, I want to be sure. I want to be free of the last emotional baggage I have—the final chains linking me to my past. Until that happens, no matter what Leo tells me, I won't be in the right mind frame to hear it. Forgiving myself has to come before forgiving him.

That's when the idea comes. An idea so random, so totally unlike me, that I know it's the real deal. The key to letting go of who I was once and for all and embracing who I want to be.

With a surge of newfound energy, I scramble from the shower and throw on clothes. I'm out the door twenty minutes later, a beanie on my wet hair and an oversized hoodie over jeans. I hop into Jessica's black Mini Cooper and start the engine. I have yet to think of the car as mine, even though it is.

Dad bought Jessica a new Lexus for Christmas. He did the whole deal—shiny sedan in the driveway Christmas morning with a big red bow on top. Poor woman almost had her own heart attack and nearly abandoned the Sloan-ship. Only after Jameson and I assured her we'd never seen our dad so bonkers for a woman since our mom did she accept the gift. And a few days later, after she assured me she'd never been so bonkers for a man, I accepted the keys to her old car.

Win-win.

I drive straight to my dad's, surprising him and Jessica in the middle of dinner. Waving off an invitation to grab a plate, I take an empty seat at the kitchen table and spill the beans.

My dad is ecstatic.

"That sounds perfect, Mia. Absolutely perfect for you." He and Jessica share a grin.

My idea is small, a tender-skinned infant I'm not quite sure what to do with, how to feed or care for. "I might need some help," I say haltingly. "I don't mean with money—I've wasted too much of yours already. With other stuff. Shit, I don't even know what I'm saying. Just…"

"Moral support?" offers Jessica.

I sink in relief. "Yes."

"Whatever you need," my dad replies eagerly. "We'll be your number one cheerleaders. Right, Jess?"

She nods. "Absolutely. I have some time in the morning if you want me to sit down with you. We can do some research, figure out your next steps. I'd be happy to come down to Venice."

Filled with gratitude, I smile. "That sounds great. Want to grab breakfast, too?"

"Definitely."

"Can I come?" asks my dad.

Jessica and I exchange a glance. We shake our heads in unison. Dad sighs in exaggerated disappointment, but there's a twinkle in his eye.

"A master's degree in education psychology?" echoes Jameson, eyes wide as he lowers the mug of coffee from his mouth. "That's for what, being a school counselor?"

"Yep," I confirm. "A middle school guidance counselor to be exact. Jessica helped me look at some local programs. With loans and working full-time, I think I can do it in two or three years."

He blinks. "Holy shit, Meerkat. I can honestly say that sounds perfect for you."

"You think so? That's what Dad and Jessica said, too." I chew my lip, scratching Ferdi absently while staring out a nearby window. "I feel a little bit like I'm making a huge leap in a potentially wrong direction. Twenty-eight is a little old to completely shift directions. What if I can't do it?"

Jameson leans forward, catching my gaze with his. He wears a dead-serious expression I've secretly dubbed the Sloan Lawyer Face. Dad has the same one.

"It's never too late, and we are not old. Mia, you have always done exactly what you wanted to, no matter how far-fetched or impossible-sounding it was. Remember senior year when those dumb girls dared you to try and win the prom queen nomination? What did you do?"

I roll my eyes. "I hardly think that's an equal comparison."

Jameson ignores me. "You won! The wild surfer girl who preferred graffitiing the vice principal's car over going to class."

"Hey, I was never caught for that! And anyway, I always did my homework and got good grades."

Jameson chuckles. "My point, thank you. You didn't even want to be prom queen, but you won because you set your mind to it. You hated school, but you excelled because you loved learning." He sits back, smug and triumphant. "Look at everything you've been through, how far you've come. You're ideal guidance counselor material. Besides, kids love you."

Another bit of my worry falls away. "Thanks, Jaybird. For being here. Letting me lean on you. I feel like I'm starting over again—or starting for the first time. It's a little scary."

He nods. "I'm always here for you, sis. You know who else would really like to?—"

"Not yet."

He sighs.