Pops did love Brock’s mom, Debbie, or Deborah. Pops was the only one who called her Debbie. There were a lot of good people in his family. She wasn’t sure where things had gone so wrong with Brock.
“You look very handsome,” Tiana enthused. Pops was wearing dark gray slacks with a plum sweater that complemented his olive skin tone perfectly.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself, Tiny.” Pops winked.
It had been so difficult to figure out what to wear. She’d ended up going with high-waisted black slacks, a white lace-overlay corset top beneath a semi-sheer long-sleeved button-down top, and gold jewelry.
Tiana and Pops took their time walking up the steps. Pops hated to be assisted in any way, so she just stood beside himand went at his pace, not trying to speed the process along. They entered the restaurant and saw that the Bartletts were waiting in the bar area for the room they’d reserved to be ready. They made their way over to join them, and as they approached, two tiny voices sounded.
“Auntie Tiana!”
“Auntie Tiana!”
Tiana looked down just in time to see Brock’s nieces, Abigail and Millie, rushing towards her. She hadn’t seen the girls in two years, and they’d grown so much. They were five and three the last time she’d laid eyes on the duo, so they had to be seven and five now. On the day Tiana was packing to leave while Brock was in Buffalo playing the Bills, they’d stopped by with their mom, Brock’s sister Belinda. She wasn’t sure if Belinda was there to say goodbye or to spy, maybe a little of both.
Either way, she’d been relieved she’d gotten to say her goodbyes to the girls, who she’d been very close to.
“Oh my gosh, you both got so tall!”
“I’m five now!” Millie held up her hand.
“Wow!” Tiana enthused.
“Can you sit by me?" Abigail tugged on her hand.
“Give the girl some breathin’ room.” A deep voice boomed.
Tiana took a breath as she lifted her head and saw Mr. Bartlett, Brock’s father. She’d always gotten along with her father-in-law, but they hadn’t spoken since the divorce, and she had no clue what the man thought of her. There’d been so much printed about her, ninety-nine percent of it false, not to mention whatever his son had said, which she knew did not paint her in a good light.
“How’s my favorite bonus daughter doing?” He held out his arms.
Hearing him call her the same term of endearment he’d used when she and Brock were married instantly soothed her nerves.Mr. Bartlett was not a fake person, if he had an issue with her, he wouldn’t smile to her face and then speak poorly behind her back.
“I’m…okay.”
He pulled her into a bear hug, and when he leaned back, his chin dipped, and he glanced at her above his glasses. “Does us showing up out of the blue have to do with you being just…okay?”
“I’m happy to see you guys. I’ve missed you,” she said sincerely.
“We’ve missed you, too, Blueberry.” The second term of endearment he used was the one Mr. Bartlett’s mother, Grandma Bartlett, gave her.
She gave each of her children and grandchildren fruit nicknames, and Tiana was Blueberry. When she asked why she’d chosen that particular fruit, she told her it was because they are universally loved, they can be sweet or tart, and they are nutritious, delicious, and good for you. She took it as a compliment.
Brock’s nickname was Pineapple. She said he’d been given that nickname because even as a young boy, he had a strong personality that was somewhat of an acquired taste—you either loved or hated. Eating too much pineapple, because of its acidity, was not good for you, which could be the case with spending time with Brock, and both were prickly on the outside and could hurt you if you didn’t handle them with care.
That was the first red flag Tiana ignored. The thing about red flags is, when you wear rose-colored glasses, those suckers look pink.
“And how are you, Stanley?” Mr. Bartlett patted Pops on the back.
“How much are you willing to pay me if I tell you?” Pops responded.
Mr. Bartlett laughed. “I know Deborah is going to be thrilled to see you. She’s missed you.”
“Where is my Debbie B?”
Mr. Bartlett glanced around. “She couldn’t have gone far, I’ll go find her.”
“Pops!” Martin, Belinda’s husband, called out as he walked from across the room. “Long time no see. How are you doing?”
