Chapter 18
Tiana walked away from Niko looking confused and hurt, knowing she was the one to make him feel that way. The man was being nice and helpful, and she was a bitch just because she was feeling nervous and insecure, and instead of being honest and saying that, she lashed out.
When she got the alert that she had her meeting with Dr. Best, it freaked her out for two reasons.
The first was that, before Niko, she would never have forgotten such an important meeting, and it had totally slipped her mind.
Second, she was terrified Niko would somehow find out about her financial issues with Golden Years and ask her about it.
She knew they’d be discussing payment since the surgery wasn’t covered, and she absolutely did not want Niko privy to that information about her.
She didn’t want anyone privy to that. Because she knew if they were, the questions would come.
Why wouldn’t she just use her ex’s money?
No one would understand why she couldn’t.
Only someone who has lived with Brock would understand the power that would give him, even if he wasn’t aware of it.
She just couldn’t use it, not for herself, and so far she hadn’t had to use it for Pops.
If there was no other way, she would. But so far, she’d been able to figure it out.
When she walked into Golden Years, there was quite a group assembled at reception.
Cindy was busy with potential residents, so Tiana gave her a quick wave and smile as she signed in.
After getting buzzed back, she double-timed it down the hall.
She couldn’t help but feel the guilt rise in her at how she’d spoken to Niko when all he’d done since the moment he’d entered her life was try and make it easier, safer, happier, better, and how did she repay him? She’d been a total asshole.
Armed with the knowledge there was nothing she could do about that now, she decided to focus on Pops. That was all that mattered. He was all that mattered.
She walked into Pop’s room and asked how he was doing.
“How are you feeling?”
“Ask Google. It seems to know everything.”
Tiana smiled. “Has Dr. Best been in?”
“No, but Dr. Mediocre has.”
Pops’ affection for creative sarcasm was legendary, but Tiana still marveled at his ability to conjure original comebacks with every audience, every single day, when asked how he was doing.
His repertoire spanned everything from “Ask Siri, she’s got my vitals” to “I’m running Windows 98 on this meat suit—expect bugs.
” Last month he told a rounding intern to “Page Dr. Kevorkian, see if he makes house calls,” which had backfired when she was called in for a group therapy meeting and Pops was given a pamphlet about “Wellness Through Positivity.” But somehow, the classics—Dr. Mediocre, Dr. Worst, and Dr. So-So—never got stale for him despite using each moniker at least fifty times, if not more.
He rolled them out with the deadpan precision of a vaudeville veteran, and if the jokes made even one nurse snort her coffee, he’d consider it a day well spent.
This morning, Tiana found his humor more comforting than usual.
The banter softened the sharp edges of guilt cutting into her from the Niko incident, and for a moment, she let herself feel normal.
She had barely settled into the battered vinyl visitor’s chair, still holding her purse like a shield, when the door opened.
As if on cue, Dr. Best breezed in. The man looked more like a sitcom doctor than anyone Tiana had ever met.
He had a perpetual five o’clock shadow, a receding hairline he fought with defiant gel, and a smile that radiated genuine warmth, even when he was about to drop a medical bombshell. He wore that smile now.
“Mr. Matthews, I heard you’ve met with my colleague Dr. Mediocre earlier today, but if you have a few minutes, I’d love to go over some things with you and Ms. Matthews as well.”
Pops sat up a little straighter and got that twinkle in his eye. He always respected people who matched his sarcasm game.
“Sounds good.” Tiana grinned as Dr. Best pulled up the rolling stool and swiped across his tablet.
“I wanted to speak to you both because your last round of labs, plus the imaging, all point to LVRS being the best, maybe only, way forward. I wouldn’t recommend surgery unless I truly believed it’s his best option.
There are no guarantees, and the risk is reasonable, but the alternative is grave. ”
Tiana nodded sharply, not trusting herself to speak.
She also felt the use of the word grave was in bad taste.
She had already played out every scenario, every insurance denial, and every dollar sign in her head.
She also knew, with bone-deep certainty, that if she hesitated for even a day, it could be the difference between hope and hospice.
She’d read every article on COPD, every treatment. She’d watched the oxygen saturation numbers dip and rebound, like a battered float bobbing in choppy surf.
“Let’s get it done,” Tiana blurted out. She had power of attorney over Pops’ health after a pretty serious bout in the hospital two years prior.
She didn’t want to use Brock’s money, but if she had to, she would. It would be a last resort, but it was there. It was a poisoned safety net.
Dr. Best smiled, but there was a gravity to it.
“We’ll start pre-op labs and get you on the schedule.
I’ll have my nurse get you a full packet.
Lots of reading, Tiana, so sharpen up your pen.
” He stood, gave Pops’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and excused himself with a quip about searching for Dr. Better in the breakroom.
When Dr. Best left the room, Pops grumbled, “I’ll be fine. I don’t need nobody cutting me open. I’m an old man. No need to prolong the inevitable.”
Tears threatened to fill Tiana’s eyes, but anger overrode any other emotion. She hated when Pops spoke like that, it infuriated her. “You’re getting the surgery. I need you here, with me.”
Pops squinted at her. “What’s he done?”
“What?” She blinked. “Who?”
“Who do you think? The Big Blond Wolf.”
Pops never liked Brock. He’d seen past his fake smile and “good guy” facade.
Tiana didn’t see the point in correcting Pops that she was upset about his mortality and not her ex.
She figured she’d endured ten years with the man, she may as well get some use out of him.
If Pops thought she was upset about Brock, it would give him somewhere to direct his anger.
And angry Pops was somehow always a healthier Pops, she didn’t understand why, but that was the case.
“He came to my class this morning.”
“And…”
“And…what?”
“And did he say something? Do something?”
“No, he…” She nearly said he couldn’t because Niko was there, but maybe he wouldn’t have even if Niko wasn’t there. “…didn’t.”
Pops tipped his head down towards her. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Were you going to say he didn’t because Niko was there with you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “How did you…?”
“Lydia said he was co-teaching.”
Right. Of course. Why wouldn’t Yaya talk about her grandson co-teaching the yoga class for seniors that morning?
“Niko is certified to teach, so he helped out with classes this morning.”
“I like him.”
So do I, which was the problem. A little vodka, a grilled cheese, and she’d crossed a line. Who knew that was all it took?
“How is that boyfriend of yours?”
“He’s not…” She lowered her voice and scooted her chair closer to his bed. “I told you our relationship isn’t real.”
His right brow lifted. “So you’re not really shackin’ up with him?”
Tiana closed her eyes and debated telling Pops what had predicated her “shacking up” and decided she might as well.
“There was an incident.”
“An incident?”
“I came home, and there were flowers on my porch from Brock, and my door was open—or, not open, but…unlocked and ajar,” Tiana explained.
“Did you call the police?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Niko was with me, it was after the tree lighting ceremony. He sort of insisted I stay with him until Brock leaves town. He has four bedrooms at his Airbnb.”
She didn’t mention that they’d only used one of those bedrooms the night before.
Thankfully, after five more minutes of grilling, conversation shifted to sports and retirement home gossip.
It was like a soap opera at Golden Years, with people cheating, lying, and even stealing.
Tiana often wondered why no one had ever come up with a reality show filmed in a retirement community.
After several hours, her phone vibrated with the alarm indicating she was due over at Haven House. Tiana stood and leaned down to give Pops a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Tiny.”
On the walk to the shelter, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was coming out of her skin, and she wondered why she was feeling so out of sorts.
Was it because her ex was in town? Was it because she had to figure out how to come up with money to pay for Pops’ surgery?
Was it because she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed, in her own home?
Was it because she had the equivalent of a one-night-stand and was in a fake relationship with a man who was known primarily for his womanizing ways, and, worst of all, she was beginning to develop real, feelings for him?
Oh, and she’d just been a total b-i-t-c-h to him?
Niko was a walking red flag. Athlete. Check. Attractive. Check. Rich. Check. Charismatic. Check. Charming. Check.
Okay, so maybe those weren’t all stereotypical red flags, but to her they were.
So why was she allowing herself to fall?
She knew the crash was going to be on hard concrete alone, and she’d have to pick herself up, crawl to the emotional E.R.
, and hope that she could heal, all while carrying on her life as usual.
None of that sounded fun, so what was she doing?
When she arrived at Haven House she took a deep breath. As she walked up the path that led to the front walkway, she tried to shake off all of the day’s drama. She just wanted to concentrate on the women, teens, and kids and what she was there to do.
After she checked in, she said hello to the students in her class.
They ranged in ages from five years old to sixty.
They were moms and kids in the shelter. She taught thirty minutes of stretch and body flow and then fifteen of meditation.
Once it ended she felt so much better, so much lighter, so centered.
She knew she had a lot to be grateful for, she was too much in her own head.
Instead of focusing on the things that were not so great in her life, she needed to focus on the positives, and there were plenty of those.
She was naming them in her head when she turned the corner of the hall and walked straight into something very familiar in a completely out-of-context place.
She bumped into someone, and when large hands wrapped around her, she looked up already knowing who she’d see because his unique smell had identified him.
“Niko,” she breathed, feeling like she was going to throw up.
It was like déjà vu. This behavior was exactly what Brock had done. He’d started showing up places where she was. It was unacceptable.
“Niko, what are you—” She shook her head back and forth. “You can’t—”
“Bye, Miss Tiana!” Hilary smiled and waved as she exited the multipurpose room where the yoga was held.
“Bye, Hilary.” Tiana waved and smiled at the eight-year-old, not wanting her to pick up on the stress she was feeling.
Once she’d made it around the corner, she grabbed Niko’s arm and yanked him into the small conference room and shut the door. You can’t just show up like this—”
“I’m—”
“No!” She lifted her hand, not willing to hear his excuses, mainly because she knew if she did, she would melt and fall for whatever he said.
“I’m serious. I told you I needed space, and you followed me,” she lowered her voice, “to a women and children’s shelter.
” She took a deep breath. “That is not okay for so many reasons.”
“Tiana, I—”
“I’m serious, Niko, you can’t do that.” She waved her hand between them. “We can’t do this. Just because we,” she lowered her voice again, “spent the night together does not give you the right to show up here. I mean how did you even know I was here? Did you put a tracker on my phone?”
“What?! No, I would never—”
“It doesn’t even matter. Whatever this was, this arrangement, it’s over. It’s done. I can’t do this.”
“Tiana, I didn’t—”
Tiana’s hand was reaching for the doorknob when it opened and Ramona, the residential coordinator, walked in.
“Niko, there you are!” Her face lit up. “I thought we lost you, everyone is waiting for you in the rec room.”
“Sorry, I’m coming,” Niko said as he walked around Tiana and out the door.
Tiana’s gaze bounced between Ramona and Niko’s retreating back.
“The rec room?” Tiana repeated to Ramona.
Ramona nodded. “Yeah, for his self-defense class, he teaches it two to four times a year, depending on his schedule, has done for the past… I don’t know, twelve years or so. It’s amazing, he’s amazing. I can’t count the number of lives he’s saved.”
Shit. She’d already been a bitch, and now she could add psycho to the growing list of ways she repaid Niko’s kindness. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not this was real. Even if there was a chance it could have been, she took care of sabotaging that all by herself.