That is easy to answer. Business has been a wonderful escape, and a healthy one too, I suspect. I’ve poured my heart even further into our company in the last four months and it’s paid off. “It’s going great. Olive and I hired a new VP of business dev, and Zachary’s been inking deals left and right for corporate classes. All sorts of companies are hiring our teachers.”
“But lots of them want you?” he asks.
I shrug and smile. “It’s good to be the empress.”
He sets a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m proud of you, Katie. You’ve been focused and determined, but you never seem angry about what happened with your mom.”
I suppose I have yoga and friends and business to thank for that. And my dad. “Life goes on,” I say.
“But seriously, I’m impressed. You seem…healthy,” he adds.
“It’s time, right?” I’ve tried to give myself that. In retrospect, everything happened so quickly with Silvio. Perhaps that was the biggest flaw in our relationship. “And honestly, we never seemed completely compatible, but I ignored that, because I was swept up in it.”
“It was a whirlwind romance,” he seconds.
“When I look back at the last year, I think maybe if I just took more time before we planned our wedding, I would have realized it sooner. That’s what I learned. We didn’t quite fit, but I was captivated, and I convinced myself it was meant to be.”
“I think there’s a part of you that wanted to believe in fate,” he muses, stroking his chin.
Huh. That’s an interesting observation. I didn’t realize I was such a fate-centric person. “Why do you say that?” I ask, eager for some insight.
“It’s something I noticed in you when you were a teenager. When your mom and I split—well, like most kids, you wanted us to stay together, but that clearly wasn’t happening, and you wanted to make sense of it. As you tried, you’d say things like how we never seemed right for each other, or how fate had other plans.”
That’s surprising, since I’m not a believer in fate now. But maybe I needed it as a teen to see me through a tough time. “Maybe I justwantedto believe in it.”
Dad nods. “I’d like to believe in it, too, but ultimately I think you make your own fate.”
I tilt my head, studying his expression, mulling over his words. “You do?”
He takes a deep breath, lets it out. “I do. I believe in hard work, putting in the time, and listening to your instincts. I haven’t always done that, but I sure try to now.”
Those are words to live by.
I vow to keep doing that too—pay attention to what my gut says, rather than my heart.
I’ve taken the last few months to find my balance again, and I’ve spent lots of time with Olive, Emerson, Jillian, and Skyler. We’ve started an ad-hoc axe-throwing club, along with a self-proclaimed Snooty Wine Night.
Girlfriend time is fantastic therapy.
So is football. I’ve watched every Renegades game this season, just as I usually do. Harlan is on fire, and his team is having a great run. They’ve won five games and lost one. By all accounts, he’s killing it on the field, though he did leave the last game earlier in the fourth quarter than usual. That was a little odd, but the team was beating Baltimore by two touchdowns and won, so I suspect they wanted to give their stars a rest.
And maybe it’s time for me to see more of that star.
Maybe I’m ready.
“Dad?” I say, giving him my attention. “I’m trying to listen to my instincts, too, and you know what they say?”
“What do they say?”
I go for broke. “That it’s time to date again.”
He slams his hands over his ears. “Tra la la la.”
I laugh—because it’s fun to wind him up—until he sets his palms in his lap, muttering, “I can handle this, I can handle this.”
“You’re such a dad,” I tease.
He bumps shoulders with me. “Can’t help it. But seriously. I’m happy for you. If you want to date again, go for it.”
