Jessa repeated those words in her head, letting them soothe her frazzled nerves. She couldn’t claim anything close to perfection. “But . . . I . . .”

“You do need to own your mess. And, let’s be honest, that is not one of your strengths.” Retta shot Jessa a look that dared her to disagree. When she wisely didn’t, Retta continued. “First, Tim is the wrong man for you. He sucks up all the air in your relationship. He wants someone to support him, not a partner.”

“True.”

“I’m not judging him. That’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the only member of a household in the spotlight, but it’s not what you need. Accept that, because, while your heart feels dented, it will heal.”

Tim’s face popped into Jessa’s mind. That smile. The assured way he moved through the world. She’d been attracted to all of it. All the characteristics she wished she possessed. “I thought he was the one.”

“Would ‘the one’ walk out so quickly or feel threatened by your career?” Retta snorted. “You need to be in sync with your partner, share the same goals. Agree on what’s important—I think of these as your absolutes—and agree on what you’ll do to protect those absolutes, what you’re not willing to compromise on, and how far you’ll go to hold that line.”

“Like you and Earl.” Jessa could see it. The way they looked and acted. Every step matched.

“Exactly.” Retta smiled. “It’s about understanding the values that bind you as a couple and nurturing them.”

“I can’t imagine being that close to someone.”

“Which is how you should have known Tim was not the one.” Retta waved a hand in the air. “And you were wrong before. You still have your job. It’s on hold, waiting to see what you do, how you react to the circumstances you’ve landed in.”

Jessa tried to take the cryptic remark apart and make sense of it, but she couldn’t. But she was very in touch with how pissed she was. She didn’t have a single good thought for Covington or any of the other partners. “I should leave the firm. There’s no support there.”

“Then demand support.”

That’s not the first time Jessa had heard that advice. Retta gave it often but never filled in the blanks about how to make it happen. “You make it sound easy, but it’s not. I’m not you.”

Retta leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I can help you, Jessa. I can make a lot of this go away, but you have to want it. Deep down in your bones.”

“I do.”

“Then step up and let the fear go.”

Yes. Do it now. Go. “How?”

Retta shrugged. “There’s a solution, an imperfect one, that levels the field. It makes us proactive instead of reactive.”