“Because this time you are angry with yourself.”
“Sometimes, I really hate how smart you are.”
She shrugs. “Wouldn’t do you any good if I was dumb.”
“I need a drink,” I say more to myself. Getting up, I walk toward the wet bar and grab a bottle of scotch. I don’t even bother with a glass. This is a bottle kind of session.
“How do I fix this?” I ask after taking a few long sips.
“You start by telling me about it. What’s going on in your mind right now?”
Too much. Which is the problem. I sit back down and drink a little more, simmering down the fury inside. “I want to kill someone, preferably Matteo or Nash, but they are already dead. All the Valentines are dead, which means there is no one left to kill.”
“Why do you want to kill them?”
“Because they hurt Aspen.” I want to do more than just kill them. I want to make them suffer, draw out their pain until they rot, and die an excruciating death.
“And you feel responsible for that?”
“I know it wasn’t my fault,” I lie. I could have stayed with her or taken her with me. I just left her at her house unprotected. I could have stopped it.
“Are you sure you know that? Or do you blame yourself?”
“What if I do?”
“Then you need to learn how to forgive yourself, which is often much harder than forgiving someone else.”
Great. “I’m done talking about this.”
“That’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.” She pauses, waiting for me to suggest something. When I stay quiet, she continues. “Do you want to talk about Aspen’s biological mother?” I shake my head before she finishes the sentence. “How about we talk about the future instead of the past? Tell me how you see the next few years panning out.”
“I guess not much will change for me. I’ll still be here. Aspen is returning to her regular class schedule, but I think she still wants me to give her self-defense lessons.”
“You think, or you hope?”
“Both. I want to spend time with her.” I equally enjoy and hate drinking during a session. Yes, it calms the raging storm inside my head, but it also makes me say things I wouldn’t admit so easily sober. I’m guessing that’s the reason Lauren lets me drink during therapy.
“That’s good. That’s very good.” She taps her pencil onto her notebook. She always has it in her lap when we talk, but she never actually writes anything inside.
“You sound surprised.”
“Because I am. Normally, your favorite thing to do is to push people away.” Yeah, I notice that too. Aspen is far from my norm. Everything involving her is upside down.
“I don’t know why things are different with her. They just are.”
“Are you happy about her being with Quinton?”
“Yes, she’s safe with him, and I’ll know where she is even after she leaves Corium.” Most parents would probably despise the thought of their daughter marrying into the mob, but I’m not most, and though the Rossi family is known for being ruthless and cold, I know they treat their women well.
“Have you talked to Nic about Aspen?”
“Yes, he was the first person I told. He was surprisingly… happy.” But no one was as ecstatic as Celia. She was annoyingly excited about the news. “Celia wants to meet Aspen and spend some time with her. The problem is, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Because Celia met you at your worst?”
“I guess.” I take another long sip of scotch, letting the alcohol settle in my empty stomach before continuing. “I don’t want Aspen to know how fucked up I am.”
“Was,” Lauren corrects.