“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 thatboyfriendof 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?—”
