𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 ❛ devanté swing.

084.

U AND I.
chapter eighty four.

' 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟒, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. '
dr. anderson's office ━━━ beverly hills, california !

"WHAT BRINGS YOU BY, Mr. DeGrate? It's the fourth, shouldn't you be out with family, celebrating?" The woman plastered a soft smile on her canvas as she maneuvered around her office.

"I just needed a quick session, I know it's a holiday and all, but I just need at least an hour and half of your time. And I hope you don't mind . . . I brought some company." Dr. Anderson's eyes looked up at him, seeing his youngest daughter in his hold, and his oldest daughter holding onto his free hand, causing her to smile wider.

"Of course, you know I'm here anytime, Donald. And absolutely, go ahead and make yourself comfortable." She motioned for the area where they'd often converse within DeVante's situations.

DeVante nodded, silently thanking her, he allowed Dyana and Malia to run free within the space they had. They ran over to secluded corner where a small television was placed, Dr. Anderson wasting no time turning it on for the two girls where DeVante thanked her once more.

"Let's get started, shall we?" She suggested, taking the free seat in front of him. She placed her coffee mug on her small table, grabbing her pen and notepad that kept track of DeVante's progress. He nodded his head, leaning forward in his spot on the sofa.

"So, what's been tracing your mind, Donald? It must be something very effective at the moment due to the fact that you hardly ever come in without a scheduled appointment." She pointed out, DeVante chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's honestly everything, my past . . . catching up to me. I'm starting to have the same repeated series of nightmares, I get real bad cold sweats. But that's not even the actual thing that's been on my mind lately, it's Milani — my child's mother." He looked over at Malia, who was playing with her Baba, that she cherished with her heart and soul as she watched the television.

"Well, what seems to be the problem? Elaborate." She held her hand out, before she grabbing ahold of her pen again. "Again, everything. Our relationship is complicated like a motherfucker, and it's taking a toll on me, in different ways than one. I love her, but I want to hate her, but I can't, I can't ever hate her. I can't even begin to prosper a feel to dislike her. We'll be the bestest of friends one day, and at each other's guts another, from it being started on either parts."

"Donald—"

"I don't know how I can't possibly move on? She has, I tried, it went well, but look where it ended me to once more — heartbreak, pain . . . all because I can't get over her. Her getting married is a perfect situation for me to but I can't—I don't understand why I can't move on from her." He stammered over his words, feeling himself grow frustrated, he ran his hands over his face in stress.