One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(11)

“My mom died when I was a freshman in high school. But my Gran and Granpop have been like my parents since before I can remember.”

“Losing a parent when you’re young can be rough. Were your grandparents there at the wedding? Are they still alive?”

“Yes, and no. Granpop had a heart condition and was on oxygen by then. He died less than a month later. Gran died just last year.”

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. “I’m sorry for all your losses, Hannah. You’ve had to deal with quite a bit in the last couple of years.”

Hearing her say it aloud made my chest burn, seeming to fester the pent-up emotions. As tears started to well in my eyes, I nodded and grabbed a couple of tissues as backup in case they spilled over.

“Let’s go back to your mom. No dad in the picture?”

“Never was.”

“You said you grandparents were like your parents. What about your mom?”

I shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I don’t remember her hugging me. We never went out and did anything together. She worked a full-time day job and had part-time jobs too. Most days she came home after I’d fallen asleep and left before I woke up.”

“She never showed you any sort of affection?”

I glanced down at my lap, trying to remember back but unable to think of any instance. “Not that I can remember.”

“And you have no idea why? Not from her or from your grandparents?”

Momentarily distracted by her detailed questions, the impending tears dissipated. I blinked as I separated the two tissues in my lap and began to fold them. “No. But it seemed normal to me, I guess. Without close friends, and with my grandparents showing me an abundance of love, I didn’t question it.”

She gave me a serious look. “I wonder if you did question it but just didn’t realize it. And maybe on that same subconscious level, you didn’t want to know the answer. Do you think maybe your fiancé wasn’t the first person who subjected you to unexplained rejection?”

My jaw dropped open, understanding dawning. “My mom was?”

“It sounds like it to me. And her rejection may have affected your ability to make friends, trust others, and make you feel worthy of affection.

“All children seek the love of their parents. But my suspicion is that you learned at an early age not to put yourself out there, not to seek affection.”

At her stark and insightful words, the waterworks came back with a vengeance, spilling hot onto my cheeks. I blinked and grabbed fresh tissues, ignoring the neatly folded backups on my lap.

“Sorry.” I blotted my eyes and face, feeling out of control.

Abigail tilted her head, compassion in her expression. “Don’t be sorry. When emotions get too intense, they need a physical outlet, and crying is a healthy way of releasing the pressure and cleansing.”

I nodded and blew my nose. Then I took a few deep breaths.

She leaned back in her chair. “Enough deep stuff for a while. Tell me what you do. You said something about culinary school.”

“Yes. I’m a baker and have a cupcake and cake shop called Sweet Dreams. I went to the Culinary Institute of America, plus I took a couple of art classes outside of the curriculum. That’s actually how I met Cade. His sister Kiki was in my first art class. When Cade had the grand opening of his bar, Kiki invited me to do the cake for the event. Then when they formed an event-planning business, they asked me to be a part of their team.”

“But Kiki isn’t a friend of yours?”

I shook my head. “We’ve never talked on the phone or done anything outside of work.”

We talked a bit further about my childhood and my reclusive nature. About how I relied too heavily on the love and support from my grandparents in the absence of love from my mother, and how doing so affected my ability to make friends.

And after the initial cascade of emotions, the rest of the session seemed easier. Trying to recall facts instead of feelings helped me detach somewhat from the heartache.

When Abigail grabbed her notepad again, I exhaled a lungful of air. “So now what?”

“We’ve got plenty to work on. More than one session can address. We have just a few more minutes. What would you most like to work on?”

“Cade. I want to work on being normal with Cade. On being able to trust him without fears from my past creeping in. To go on dates with him and be present there, not anywhere else in my head.”

“And how is Cade with all of this?”

I sniffed. “He’s amazing. He’s already done things to help me deal with issues from my past.”

“Such as?”

I smirked at my fondest memory. “Such as tossing my wedding dress, along with his pants and the list into a bonfire.”

She laughed, but then her brow furrowed. “His pants and ‘the list?’”

“Ah, yes. I’m not the only one with rejection issues. His fiancée dumped him while he wore those pants, and in the aftermath, his way of dealing before he met me was a list of rotating sexual gymnasts.”

Her eyes widened, and she blinked.

“Yeah. I’m not kidding. Well, not actual gymnasts, but you get the drift.”

She fought a smile as she gave me a nod. “I do.” When a soft chime rang out, she pressed a button on her cell phone that sat on her desk. “Well, our time is about up. Would you like to return the same day and time next week?”