APRIL

When we get in the car, the piece of paper is a brick inside my purse. It's stewing in there, radiating heat, waiting for me to do something. I pretend it doesn't exist, though, at least for right now. I don't want to think about it.

I may not want it on my mind, but as much is impossible. I can still remember the eager look in the representative's eyes when he said Dangerbird Records would love to offer me a deal. He wanted to sign me right then, but I shut him down and said I needed time to think about it. I don't need time at all, really; I already know my answer. The only way I can create music with them is if I move two thousand miles to Los Angeles, away from everything I've ever known. And I'm not doing that.

I stare out the window, faced away from Jackson though I can feel his emotions very clearly. Curiosity mixed with frustration. He's not good at hiding them. They don't necessarily show on his face, but his body reads like a book. He's tense, rigid, everything is clenched as he grips the wheel like it might fly off at any moment. I got us out of The Whistler quickly without bothering to tell him why, which I'm sure was unsettling. I couldn't tell him the reason, though. If I did, he wouldn't have let us leave. He would have asked to talk to the guy, and I didn't want that. I can handle my own business without other people - even people I love - poking their nose into it.

I'm angry with myself for not turning the rep down right away. I should've looked him in the eyes and given a clear 'no, thank you.' What he was offering isn't something I want. I don't want a new life when I'm in the process of getting settled into something good here. I don't like California and its year-round warmth; I like Chicago and the snow. I don't want to be part of the ultra-modern, ultra-chic scene in LA, trying to keep up with everyone else in the business. That's not me and it never has been.

Though, at one point, I thought it could be. I pictured myself walking under rows of palm trees, dressed in short denim shorts with sunglasses on, signing pictures for fans. That's a faraway memory back when I was a kid and didn't really understand what being a celebrity meant, but still. At one point, that's what I dreamed of. It's not my dream anymore, though. My life has changed; changed for the better. Just because something that seems amazing was offered to me on a silver platter doesn't mean the grass is greener on the other side. I would miss my home. I would miss my people. I would miss the life I've just begun to cultivate. I would miss the person I am here, the person I'm getting to know more and more each day. Who knows what I would turn into out there? I would lose everything. The loss is so much heavier than the gain, though the gain may be tempting.

I'd be singing for a living. I'd be getting paid to make albums. I'd be performing onstage for big audiences if my stuff did well. It used to seem so unattainable, but now the key to that world is sitting in my purse - burning a hole in the fabric. And I plan on throwing it away.

I won't regret it when I do. Right here is where I want to be and I'm sure of it as we pull into the garage and everything goes quiet. "Coming in?" Jackson mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt as he must notice I haven't moved.

"Oh," I say, shaking myself out of a trance. "Yeah."

We walk through the back door to find Maggie at the kitchen counter with a piece of toast. She jumps upon our arrival, eyes wide as we come through the living room. "God, you scared me," she says. "You're back early. It's not even 10."

"Yep," Jackson says, breezing past her. He walks through the kitchen then drops his shoes in the closet. "Gonna go check on Athena. Thanks for staying, Maggie."

"Uh-huh…" Maggie says, squinting at the spot he vacated as he disappears up the stairs. "Damn. What's up with him?"

"Nothing," I say, trying to write it off as I step out of my heels.

"He's acting like a baby, so it's gotta be something," Maggie replies with a laugh. "He gets so sulky. I used to push his buttons all the time when we were kids. He'd always tell on me."

I smirk a little. "He's just mad at me for making us leave early," I say.

"Yeah, why are you even home right now?" she asks. "Couldn't wait to get in that whiny baby's pants?"

"I don't feel very well," I say, pressing a hand against my stomach for effect.

She frowns, looking alarmed. "You aren't pregnant, are you?" she asks.

My face flushes a brilliant red. I know, because the way it heats up is startling. "I - no," I stammer, avoiding her eyes. I don't like being put on the spot, especially over something so sensitive. "Just feeling a little icky."

"I'm sure you can make it up to him," she says. "In other ways."

My blush remains. I really don't want to talk about this with Jackson's sister, of all people. "Well, I don't know," I say.

"I'm sorry, I can see I'm making you uncomfortable," she laughs. "We don't really have boundaries in our family. You learn to get used to it."

"Yeah," I say nervously,

"Well, since you're home, I might as well get out of here," she says, standing up. I walk her to the door and hand her a $50 bill that was on the counter, but she refuses it. "No, no," she says. "Thena's my niece. You don't have to pay me."

"Yes, we do," I say. "Please, just take it."

"April, no," Maggie says. "Family doesn't do that. Chill, okay? Your face is all flushed. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I say.

She reaches to take my hand, squeezing my fingers slightly. "I'm saying this as your sister," she whispers, eyes darting towards the stairs to make sure they're empty. "Take a pregnancy test."

"What?" I say, smiling uncomfortably.

"It's not an insult. You just look… just do it, okay? Just to shut me up."

"Sure," I say. "But really, don't worry. Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot. Even if it didn't work out."

"Anytime," she says. "All Thena did was play the piano 'til she passed out. Hanging out with her is easier than it's ever been."

She gives me a hug before walking out and I turn around slowly, shutting off the lights downstairs before going up. I take my time knowing Jackson is pissed that our night was cut short, then find him on the bed wearing his reading glasses, thumbing through a magazine. "Maggie left," I tell him, hovering in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Alright."

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" I ask.

"It's early," he says, then lifts the magazine slightly. "Reading."

"Okay," I say, but as I disappear into the bathroom, I have a plan in mind. I know it's my fault he's angry; we've both been looking forward to a night out for a while. It was supposed to free our minds and help to let go of the hard week we had, but it seemed to accomplish the complete opposite. "I'll be out in a minute," I call.

"Take your time."

I rifle through the drawers on my side of the closet until I find something Jackson bought me a few nights ago. It's light pink, lacy, and see-through in a sort of sophisticated way. I've never been interested in lingerie before, but I had no idea how alluring it'd make me feel once I put it on. I fluff my hair in the mirror and put on a little lip gloss before opening the door to present myself, wondering what he'll think.

Instantly, his eyes lift, and he can't tear them away. "I wanna make tonight up to you," I say, crawling towards him on the bed. "I made us come home early. I'm sorry." I take the magazine out of his hands and settle on his lap. "I love what you bought for me," I say as he skims his hands over my sides. "Thank you."

He nods, still taking me in. He reaches to squeeze my waist, then looks into my eyes. "You know, I didn't expect this," he says, voice still a bit clipped. "If you're trying to placate me or repay me, or something."

"I know," I say, gathering his shirt to pull it over his head. I press myself closer and drape my arms over his shoulders, running my hands down his back. His skin his warm and his heart beats steadily inside his chest, reverberating through his skin onto mine. I kiss the round of his shoulder and he sighs against me, loosening. "I want to."

He let out a loud breath that holds plenty of emotion. It says what he isn't vocalizing with words, and I'm completely sure of what comes next. Sex isn't happening tonight. "April," he says. "I thought we were done with the secret-keeping bullshit."

I give him a confused look. "What do you mean?" I say. It's an idiotic move, playing dumb, I know. But I had hoped to avoid the subject for at least a little while longer.

"I know something happened at The Whistler that you're not telling me," he says.

Deflating, I lift one knee so I'm not straddling him anymore, then lie flat on my back – still in the lingerie. Then, I look at him with just my eyes. "I'm not keeping anything, because there's nothing to tell," I say. "Nothing's gonna come of it."

"I'd still like to know what's going on," he says.

I sigh and stand up, wrapping myself in a robe that I keep on the bedpost. I tie it tightly around my waist, then sit back on the bed with folded legs. "A representative from Dangerbird Records came up to me after my set. Said he's had his eye on me for a while and that they'd like to sign me. They want to move me out to LA so I can start working on an EP, or whatever." I shrug with emphasis. "He gave me his business card, but I'm gonna turn him down."

"Why are you being 'whatever' about this?" he asks. "You sound sixteen. Isn't this your dream? What you've been chasing since you were a kid?"

"Yes, it's what I wanted to do when I was little, but it's not what I want anymore," I say.

"That's not true," he says. "Why would you sing at The Whistler if it's not what you want to do?"

"Singing is fun," I say. "It's therapeutic."

"It might be, but I know it's more than that," he says. "It's your passion. Why would you turn down getting paid for your passion? April, do you hear yourself?"

"See, this is why I didn't wanna tell you," I say, curling my hair behind my ear. "You don't get it."

"Yes, I do," he says. "I'm looking at it from an outsider's point of view and I can see what a mistake you're making. You didn't already turn him down, did you?"

"No, but I'm going to."

"If you really wanted to do it, why didn't you say no right away?" he asks. "Why wait?"

"I don't know," I say. "I don't have all the answers for you. But I'm gonna do it tomorrow. We already have a meeting set up."

"What's wrong with saying yes?" he asks.

"Everything!" I respond. "Literally everything. It would change my whole life, doing this. I'm not uprooting, I'm not going out there and coming back on weekends. I'm not - I'm not doing that. I'm just not. I promised Athena just the other day that nothing would change, that I'd always be here. I don't break my promises, Jackson, you know that."

"Athena would understand," he says.

"Do you know your daughter at all?" I ask. "No, she wouldn't!"

"In time, she would."

"I don't want anything to happen 'in time,'" I say. "I promised I'd be there for her now, not in a year when I get a break. And then the break is what, a few months? Then I'd have to go back. I'm not doing that; I'm not messing up our lives just so I can go make music. I can do that here. I already am."

"But you're not getting paid," he says.

I cross my arms defensively. "Is that why you want me to say yes?" I ask. "Because money matters to you. Because you want me to pull my weight."

"That's not it at all," he says. "Please, don't put words in my mouth. It would be nice for you if you could make money from it. You would have a better income, feel independent again. I know that matters to you, that's the only reason I say it."

"I'll find something here," I say. "I'll get another job. I'm not moving to LA, Jackson. I'm not letting them sign me."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" he asks. "You're being stupid by throwing this away, you know that? It's a stupid, rash decision."

My blood boils. "You think me putting your family first is stupid?" I spit.

"We're your family, too," he volleys back. "We've already been over this."

"Then you just proved my point," I say. "You guys are my family. Why would I want to move across the country and leave my family? You need me. Athena needs me. I can't just… go. I can't do it, and I won't."

"You're being irrational," he says, shaking his head. He throws his hands up. "What, do you expect another opportunity like this to come along one day when you're ready?"

"Maybe," I say petulantly.

"You'll never feel ready, April, and that's the hard truth," he says. "What if another rep comes to you in 7 years, when Athena is 15? She'd be okay if you left, but how about our second child? How old will they be? Young. You won't be able to leave. There's always gonna be an excuse. It's never gonna feel like the right time."

"I get that," I say. "So, maybe it's not what I want at all. Is it so wrong to want to stay here and raise my family? Why are you condemning that?"

"Because it's not what you really want," he argues.

"You don't know what I really want," I say. "You don't live inside my head."

"I know you don't want to play piano at my father's restaurant and sing in bars for the rest of your life," he says. "I know you don't want to be stuck at home with a baby on your hip, missing out on the one thing you always dreamed of."

"I've been dreaming about a family," I insist. "Why don't you get that? Not everything is about work, about business, about money." I shake my head. "I thought you got past this. I guess not."

"It's not that," he says. "It's not about money. It's about your passion, what you love to do."

"I love being here!" I say. "I love Chicago, I love my life. I want to stay. I made a promise to Athena, and I don't want things to change. I'm finally reaching a place where I'm happy and doing something to hurt that scares me."

"It's complacency," he says, lips tight. "You're settling."

"I'm putting our daughter first!" I say, realizing the words I used only after they pass my lips. I cover my mouth with my hand and look away, having no desire to see the look on his face. "I'm putting Athena first," I mutter, amending my statement.

"I can put her first for a few years," he says. "While you go do this for yourself."

"No," I say. "I don't want that. I want to do it together, me and you. I want to live life together. You want that, too, I know you do."

"Of course I do," he says.

"Then why are you pushing me?" I ask.

"How many times do I have to say it?" he says. "I want you to follow your dream. I don't want you to look back on this one day in ten, fifteen years and wish you would've just taken the plunge. Because by then, there will be nothing you can do to change it."

"What would you do without me here?" I say, on the verge of tears.

"I'm not an unfit parent, April," he growls. "I raised her on my own for 7 years."

"She was unhappy," I say, voice wobbling. "She needs me. I'm not saying you're a bad father, you know I don't think that, but Athena needs me. And it's not just that. I need her, too. I need both of you. I just need to be here, and I need you not to push me. I already made up my mind. Whether or not you agree… I'm sorry, but I made my choice. And I'm not doing it."

He shakes his head. "You shouldn't make the decision so quickly."

"Well, I already did," I say. "And I'm meeting with him tomorrow to tell him no. It'll be short, I'll have time to get to Athena's recital."

His eyes move around like he's checking his internal calendar, which tells me he forgot her performance tomorrow. He doesn't say it out loud - he doesn't have to. "There'll be more recitals," he says. "I'm gonna be there. You can extend your meeting if you need to."

"I don't need to," I say. "It's gonna be quick."

He sighs, giving up on the conversation. I get out of bed to change yet again, first cleaning up and then dressing in soft, warm pajamas. I don't look at him as I crawl under the covers, and I face the window once I lie down. In an effort to get comfortable, he turns on his side and wraps an arm around my waist, but I lift it off. I'm too frustrated to stand his touch tonight, no matter how ritual or benign it is. I need to be separate from him. He sighs, annoyed, and turns to face the other way. "Alright, April," he mutters, but I don't respond.

My stomach grows upset with nerves as the hours pass without sleep. I can't stop thinking about our fight and what it'll look like in the morning, and also how the meeting with the rep will go. I work myself into such an anxious frenzy that I hurry out of bed around 3am and fall to my knees on the bathroom floor, emptying everything I had to eat into the toilet. I rest my cheek against the cool seat after I'm finished, wiping my mouth with some toilet paper, and close my eyes. I don't have any fight left, but there's still a battle going on inside my head.

…

The next day, I get up early. I rise before there's any activity in the house, as Jackson is still unconscious beside me, turned onto the same side he fell asleep on. We didn't touch each other all night, which is unusual. I usually always seek him out in sleep, and he does the same. But last night, apparently even our unconscious minds knew we were at odds with each other.

I put on my tennis shoes and head out the front door, planning on a walk to the pharmacy as the sun comes up. I don't want to take the car because it's too conspicuous. Not that I'm sneaking, because I'm not. This is just an errand that I'd prefer not to answer questions about, especially if it turns out to be nothing. I'm taking Maggie's advice, though I already have an inkling of what the result will be. I want to be wrong more than anything, but I'm trying not to think about it. I've been doing my best not to worry until there's something to worry about. But all that mindset has caused me to do is put off knowing.

I've had the suspicion for a week or so, nothing more. Sometimes, Jackson and I mess up. Sometimes, we do things in the heat of the moment and don't think until it's too late. We try to be as responsible as we can, but mistakes happen.

I'm the first and only one in the store when I walk in, which only elevates my nerves. I wring my hands as I make my way through the aisles, wandering like I don't know the exact brand of what I'm here for. I turn down offers for help, claiming I'm only browsing. But that claim is debunked as soon as I approach the checkout counter with a kit in hand. No one 'just browsing' buys a Clearblue test and a pack of gum. I can't make eye contact with the cashier as I put my items on the counter, and luckily, she doesn't try and make small talk. I'm not sure how capable I'd be of responding in a manner that's human.

When I get home, the house is still quiet, which works in my favor. I kick off my shoes and head into Athena's bathroom - mostly because I don't want to risk Jackson walking in on me without warning. I lock the door and triple check it, then sit on the toilet with my pants around my ankles, staring at my thighs and the unopened box that rests on them. "Shit," I say aloud. "Shit, shit, shit."

This wasn't supposed to happen.

It takes a while to work up any courage. I don't know how much time passes where the box sits on my bare lap, doing nothing. I have my eyes cemented on it as if I'm waiting for it to make a move, but of course it doesn't. My legs go numb before I realize I have to take it, but I don't have to pee anymore.

I reach for one of Athena's Dixie cups and fill it with water, drinking it like a shot. I laugh at myself, but it's not enough water to make anything happen. I keep the faucet on and lose count of how many cups I drink, making some sort of game with myself on how fast I can load up my bladder.

"Daddy says not to play in the faucet."

"Jesus!" I shout, one hand to my chest. Athena's voice sounds from outside the door, coming from nowhere. I hadn't heard her walk up, nor do I know how long she's been there. "Athena, what in the world are you doing?"

"Daddy says not to play in the water," she repeats. "Don't waste it. It's not good for the earth."

"I know," I say. "How long have you been there?"

"I'm awake and I need to go potty. Are you done?"

"Um… almost," I say, looking at the untouched box. "I just need a few more minutes."

"Are you going number two?" she asks. I open my mouth to answer while trying not to laugh, but she's not done. "There's a special spray on the back of the toilet. Don't make it smell bad in there, 'cause then I'm gonna have to be going potty while it stinks."

"No… I'm not going number two," I say.

"Then what's taking so long?"

I sigh and open the box, knowing I can't dawdle any longer. "I'm going," I say.

"What are you opening?" she asks. "Daddy yelled at me for sneaking candy in the bathroom. How come you can eat in there and I can't?"

"I'm not eating," I say with shaking hands, trying to read the directions. "Athena, can I have a little privacy please?"

"You do have privacy," she says. "I'm outside the door. If you're not eating, why did I hear you open something?"

"Athena, I mean privacy as in… can you stop talking to me?" I say, trying to be as gentle as possible. "I can't go when you're talking. And if you wanna get in here, I have to go."

"Fine," she says. "But don't take forever. I don't wanna use yours and Daddy's bathroom. I don't like sitting on the toilet that Daddy's butt sits on."

I listen to her footsteps walk away and try to focus on the small text on the piece of paper in my hands. The letters run together because of how nervous I am, so I give up and stick the test between my legs once I feel the need to pee, then finally let go. I hold it gingerly and try not to get anything on myself, then set it on a few sheets of toilet paper that have been resting on the sink. I wipe, pull up my pants, then sit on the closed toilet lid with my hands sandwiched between my knees, looking everywhere but the Clearblue test. The simultaneous urge to know the result right away while never knowing it is too much to bear. There are too many thoughts running through my head to decipher a single one, so I don't try. I let my head go numb and my eyes zone out on a specific spot on the wall - that is, until I hear Athena's voice again.

"Are you done yet?" she nags. "I think you're going number two and you just don't wanna say."

I jump up and shove the test into my pocket, crumpling the box in my hand so all the evidence is on me. "I'm done now," I say, washing my hands. "I'm coming out."

I open the door and she's standing there in her thermal pajamas, bonnet on, hands planted on her hips. "Finally," she says, nudging past me to get inside. "I almost peed my pants 'cause of you, toilet hogger."

She smiles as she says it, expecting me to laugh, but all I can muster up is a watery smile. She closes the door and I stand there staring at it for a beat before turning around, contraband in tow. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Jackson in the hallway, shirtless and scratching the back of his neck. "Morning," he says groggily.

"Hey," I respond.

He eyes me strangely. "Y'alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," I lie.

"You sure about that?"

I chew the inside of my lip and have a hard time looking him in the eyes. "Uh, just thinking about last night," I say.

"Yeah. Me, too," he says. "Has your stance changed at all?"

"No," I say.

"Hmm."

Then, Athena bursts out of the bathroom and smiles upon seeing the both of us. "There you are, daddy!" she says. "April just took forever and ten days inside my bathroom and I thought I was gonna have to go all the way downstairs. I made it, though." She points her finger at me "No more hogging my bathroom! You use your own, the one you share with Daddy. I don't know why you wanna share with him, since he's a yucky man, but you already chose it. So! You can't use mine."

"Alright, bossy," Jackson says lightly. "Leave her alone."

"Why're you standing out here not talking, anyway?" she asks, watching us curiously. "Are you keeping secrets?"

"No," I say, maybe a bit too quickly.

"Good. Then can we have breakfast now?"

…

I leave after spending time with Athena picking out a recital dress. She's 8, so she won't need any makeup, and Jackson is always in charge of her hair. So, once my work is done, I get ready to leave for my meeting with the representative. "April, wait!" Athena calls from the top of the stairs. When I look back, I see that half of her hair is done and the other half is left in curls. She's wearing a pair of tights and a camisole, still unfinished. "Where are you even going? It's not time for my recital yet."

"I know, sweets," I say, one hand on the doorknob. "I'm-"

"Thena," Jackson calls from her bedroom, his voice far away. "Come back. I'm not done with you."

"Daddy, April's leaving! Is it time to go right now?"

"No," he answers. "Not yet. She's got somewhere to be."

"You aren't gonna be late, are you?" Athena asks worriedly.

"No," I promise her.

"Honey, if she misses one performance, it's not the end of the world," Jackson says.

"Yes, it actually will be!" Athena insists. "This is my very first one ever." She looks at me desperately. "You have to be there."

"I will," I say. "I'll be right on time, I swear. I just have an errand to run."

"Okay, 'cause you're already in fancy clothes. That's good, that means you don't have to come back and change here."

"Exactly," I say. "I'll be there, and I love you. Alright?"

"I love you most, most," she says, blowing me a kiss before turning around and scurrying back to her room where Jackson is.

I leave the house and walk down the steps quickly with a knot in my stomach. I try and take deep breaths on the way to Starbucks where we said we would meet, but it does nothing for the tension in my chest and shoulders. I'm independent, I know I can do this, but right now it really doesn't feel like I can.

I make it to the coffee shop in one piece, though, blustering through the door to spot the rep – Mark Sloan - right away. He's at a table with his laptop open, which he closes upon seeing me. "April Skye," he says, standing to shake my hand. "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah, you too," I say with a weak smile.

"Thanks for meeting me," he says. "I appreciate you taking the time to think over my offer." He smiles widely, warmly. "Would you like to order something? I've already had my fair share of coffee; else I would definitely get something else."

"No… no, I'm fine," I say, sitting down across from him. "Thank you."

"Well, alrighty then," he says. "Let's jump right into it, eh? No use wasting time."

"Right," I say, nodding slightly. "Um, Mr. Sloan, I'm sorry, but I have to turn down your offer."

Confusion passes over his features and he does nothing to hide it. He flashes an uncomfortable grin and leans forward, blinking rapidly. "You'll have to explain further," he says. "Is someone else vying for you?"

"No," I say. "It's just… it's not what I'm looking for right now. Right now, the stage of life I'm in."

He sits back, tipping his head to one side. "Stage of life?" he repeats. "You're young, singing in a bar at night. What about securing a record deal would be detrimental to your 'stage of life?'" he asks.

"That's not all I do," I say. "I also play the piano for a restaurant downtown."

"Okay…" he says, and the squint tells me he still doesn't get it. "Let me get this straight. You'd rather stay in Chicago and play lounge piano instead of moving to LA, where you're already promised a record deal and an EP?"

"Yes," I say, though I can tell my answer is weak.

He shakes his head. "Is there someone trying to keep you from this?" he says.

"No," I say instantly. "No, not at all. Actually, it's pretty much the opposite. My… my boyfriend, he's really supportive. He wants me to take your offer."

"Then why aren't you?" Mr. Sloan asks. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be confrontational. I'm just not used to this type of response."

"It just… it's not what I want right now," I say, folding and refolding my hands in my lap.

"What do you mean?" he presses, which causes me to close my eyes while trying not to let my frustration boil over.

"I mean," I say, opening my eyes to make my point. "That I'm pregnant."

…

I walk into the performance hall where Athena's piano recital is being held and see the back of Jackson's head instantly, an empty chair beside him. I hurry down the aisle and slide into the row, letting out a long breath as I get settled. "You made it," he says under his breath, still facing forward.

"Yep," I say. "Just like I said I would."

"I know," he says. "Just wasn't sure if the meeting would run over."

"It didn't."

"For our next performance, we'd like to welcome a very new but very, very talented member of our school!" a woman says, poised at the microphone. "Please, let's give a big round of applause for Miss Athena Avery!"

With a big smile, Athena walks out wearing the dress we picked out earlier from her closet. The top half is black velvet with long sleeves, and the skirt is red satin with black designs along the trim. She's wearing black tights and shiny shoes, almost as shiny as her eyes as she waves to the crowd. And when she looks to me, she waves even harder and mouths 'hi!' Of course, I wave back.

"Athena will be playing three pieces for us today. First, Ballade by Debussy. Then, Clair de Lune by Debussy, and she'll finish up with Suite en La: Courante by Rameau. Please, enjoy!"

Overwhelming pride surges in my chest seeing Athena get settled on the bench and prop her wrists in a way I never taught her. She's learning so much, so many new techniques, from so many new people. She's allowing herself to learn.

I look to my left and let my eyes graze over her father's profile, stoic yet beaming as he watches his daughter. I take a deep breath and tell myself that, no matter how much it doesn't feel like it right now, everything will be okay. That's what I have to believe.

Subtly, I reach for Jackson's hand and twine our fingers together, mine on top. He looks over with his eyebrows furrowed, and I flash a small, nearly sad, smile in return. I give his fingers a squeeze and he doesn't move away. He keeps our hands right where they are.

I force myself not to worry about the future. Right here, in this moment, I'm listening to Athena play songs that I introduced her to. Whatever's going to happen will happen, but for right now the sound of the piano is all that matters.