"So? You want to talk about that outburst?"
"I feel like I'm talking to a therapist," I rolled my eyes, snorting.
"Come on. I'm serious." He insisted, sitting across from me on the couch.
"I.. I don't know what happened." I told him, "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be, love." He said, patiently and affectionately, reaching out to take my hand in his. "I asked you about this because I want you to talk to me about this. Not because I wanted you to apologise about it."
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"First, this house. I understand you have some painful memories here. So, firstly, do you want to stay here or should we go to my house?" He asked.
"Is that an option?" I asked, voice a mumble.
"Of course it is." He said, a twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. "We've s
