Page 53 of Impacted by Love

"No, chile. I'm very happily married, and although my genetic makeup added an extra layer of fineness, I wouldn't dream of getting down like that with anyone I share blood with." The wrinkling of Letitia's nose, like the air is unclean, causes a low chuckle to leave my mouth.

"You and I are going to get along very well, Mrs. Letitia."

"I have no doubt. Let's get started. Where do you want to begin?"

"With the grief monkey riding on my back. My parents recently died, and even in their demise, I can't shake the pain or the trauma they caused my entire life." Lifting the necklace with the two pendants that contain Mom and Dad's ashes, I swallow the cry in the back of my throat.

After Annalise's fainting spells during our family viewing, I pulled the plug on having a burial after seeing an image of me shoveling dirt on top of Annalise after shoving her into the open grave. Another part of my proper care for the people who didn't reciprocate my thought process had been life insurance, so money wasn't a factor in my decision. Despite having a viewing and service, I didn't feel like going through the extra theatrics.

"My sincerest condolences on the passing of your parents."

"Thank you. Death feels greater when you never get the opportunity to see your parents living a life of being reformed addicts. Then trauma chokes you the minute grief eases its hold on you. So yeah, in order for me to heal enough to appreciate the woman God dropped in my lap, I have to overcome my guilt for Mom and Dad's selfish decisions."

"Tell me where the guilt is stemming from. You aren't in control of anyone's actions but your own."

"While I completely understand, my bitch ass heart won't allow me to accept it. I've spent thirty-plus years being a parent to my parents and the baby they should have never had after me. I feel like I could have done something to mold them into better parents for myself and my little sister. Maybe if I had stopped paying their way or forced them to rehab, I could be looking forward to group therapy sessions while the four of us sort out the strain in our foundation. Then I blame myself for raising a selfish sister who didn't look past her tomfoolery to see the pain I was enduring when the parents responsible for both our existence left this earth."

A frown slides into place from the memory of refereeing Annalise's tearless reaction to seeing Mom and Dad in their caskets. I was standing there begging God to let them get up, and Annalise didn't give me or my pain a shred of consideration. Biting my bottom lip, I close my eyes to quell the desire to hit something until I no longer feel the ripping sensation within the chambers of my heart.

"Breathe, Asaiah," Letitia urges.

"It hurts," I whisper, shaking my head, feeling like I'm on the brink of losing not only my mind but control.

Feeling a warm yet foreign touch to my hand, I lift my head to see Letitia's serene gaze intently peering into mine.

"Inhale. Exhale. Follow me. Inhale even when you want to cry. Uh-huh, follow me. Inhale when you want to cuss them out. Now, exhale," Letitia instructs, and I listen.

By the third gentle call and response, something deep inside of me breaks, and a thirty-six-year-old wails and bounces off the walls.

"Mhm. Let it out. Allow yourself to feel it and release all of it, Asaiah."

Letitia's words somehow permit me to settle into freeing myself of the cries I have never been able to shed.

Six months later…

I think Willy Wonka was on to something when he advised those folks at the chocolate factory to press forward instead of looking back, because doing so has been turning me every which way but loose. Whoever said that men don't cry ain't ever met a man whose parents slutted him out before the age of legal consent. Being in therapy with Letitia has had me looking like Christina after Mommie Dearest beat her ass over the wire hanger that she had zero control over being in her closet. The session from two weeks ago had me calling Onesti with dates for her to submit for time off. I left Letitia's office looking like Will Smith at the start of his allergic reaction inHitch. Grief and trauma had my ass running around the ring to avoid subjecting myself to a TKO.

"Are you sleeping, Asaiah?"

Opening my eyes, I quickly secure my arm around Onesti when the unsteady contraption we're in swings side to side. I stare into eyes that hold a gleam that improves my disposition the longer I get lost in our intense yet silent conversation. The passion shining through causes my dick to jump, and a smirk upturns Onesti's lips. As the sunlight hits Onesti's beautiful face, I come to a foregone conclusion that makes my heart beat erratically. I love everything about her: her patience, commitment to my recovery, and nurturing. I love everything.

"What's up, sweet baby?" I ask after several minutes.

"Being here with you as the air blows lightly across my face feels like nirvana. Thank you for this."

Onesti and I are vacationing at a resort in Aruba, and seeing the merriment in her eyes makes the pricey expense priceless. Not wanting to book a resort in Mexico, I asked Normani for some suggestions due to her extensive travel with her husband. I'm gonna have to find a way to thank Normani for this suggestion because this resort is making me want to return annually or whenever Onesti and I need a break from life to reset. Between the four freshwater pools, ten restaurants, and the mile-long beach, I can co-sign Onesti's enjoyment of this place.

"Thank you for your patience with me, sweet baby. I know it hasn't always been easy, but I love you for not throwing me to the wolves."

Kissing her forehead with my arms around her body, I savor the moment with the woman I didn't see coming, yet I'm eternally grateful that she's mine.

"I'll believe your sincerity if you change your mind about attending the party tonight." The mischievous beam in Onesti's eyes has me shaking my head, and a low chuckle slips from my lips.

"The only way you and I will be playing in any type of soapy substance is if it's a private party."

"Private party for two hundred, Alex."

"Say less, sweet baby."

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