Page 68 of A Million Times, Yes
So why the fuck did my chest hurt so badly?
“I was wrong,” I admitted. “The way I handled all of it, you deserved better.”
“And now your poor grandmother has been dragged into our mess”—she turned her focus back to Bettie—“and I feel terrible about that. You’re so sweet to do this. To care enough about me that you not only want to see me happy, but you think I’m good enough to be with your grandson—”
“Honey, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my grandson.”
Her lack of a filter made me chuckle. “She’s right about that, Maya. You are.”
My grandmother held on to Maya’s wrist. “What you don’t know about Jordan is that underneath that hard exterior is the most sensitive, loving man. He’s just never found anyone he wants to share his life with. And then you walked in—or ran in, I should say—and he found that in you. Do you want to know how I know that?”
Maya nodded, but it didn’t happen immediately.
“I call him every morning after he gets back from his run, and he talks about you. And you know what he said to me this morning when you didn’t show up for your run?”
“What?” Maya whispered.
“That he thinks he lost you forever.” Grandma’s head shifted as she glanced between both sides of her bed where Maya and I were standing. “I’ll be damned if I let that happen. So I did what I had to do to put you two together, and I’m pretty pleased with how my plan played out.” She checked her watch. “My physical therapist will be here in about—” She turned her attention to the doorway and smiled at the man who was now standing there. “Look at that, he’s here now, which means this room will be vacant for the next thirty minutes. That gives you plenty of time and privacy to have the conversation you both desperately need.”
Maya stared at the floor, frozen, as the physical therapist came in and took my grandmother out in a wheelchair.
Once we were alone, I reached across the bed, lightly touching the edge of her elbow. But the moment my fingers landed, she pulled away.
“Your brain is spiraling,” I said.
She finally looked up. “Between you, Bettie, and the way my boss is going to reprimand me for ignoring my other patients—yes. In ways you don’t even understand.” She backed up until she reached the window and leaned against it. “God, this is a lot to process.”
“Start somewhere. Anywhere.”
She took her time responding. “Bettie told me her late husband loved hockey and never missed a game. But she never mentioned her family owned the Bears. Sure, she had amazing seats, and when she slipped the hundred-dollar bill into my scrubs, I assumed she was well off, but I never in a million years imagined any of this. Your connection. Your role—and hers.”
“When my grandfather was alive, we didn’t own the Bears. He passed away over twenty years ago, and we’ve only owned the team for the last eight. And she was right, he loved hockey more than anything. Before his heart attack, he hardly ever missed a game.” I took a seat on the bed to get closer to her. “What’s funny is that she made the decision to come to rehab on her own. She didn’t consult my parents about it, and when my mother found out, she wanted to move her back home—where she originally started right after surgery—and get her different private nurses since the first set weren’t as diligent as Grandma needed. But Grandma told us that she’d done her research, and this facility had the best reputation and was known for giving exceptional care.” I clasped my fingers together. “She’s done nothing but brag about how much she loves it here and how much she loves her nurse.” I smiled. “And that whole time it was you.”
“So neither of us knew about this connection.”
“No.”
“And here’s Bettie, making all the moves behind our back.”
I smiled. “It doesn’t surprise me. The woman loves love.”
Maya dragged her hands across the top of her head and gripped the bun at the peak. “Jordan ...”
“I fucked up. I know that. But I can’t stop thinking that there’s more that’s upsetting you. The only thing I can come up with is that it has to do with my money.” I folded my hands in my lap. “I know you care about me. Which makes me wonder why you give a shit about any of it and don’t just see past it.” I watched her eyes as I spoke. “There has to be a reason you’re so hung up on it. What is it?”
She rubbed her palms over the bottom of the window. “I wasn’t going to talk about this.”
“I need you to.” I got up from the bed and stood beside her, giving her enough space to know I wasn’t going to crowd her. “What do you want from me, Maya? An apology bigger than the ones I’ve already given? To hear me grovel? To have me get on my knees?” I paused. “What will make this better?”
“I want you to change your last name ...”
I searched her eyes, and when I didn’t see the answer, I said, “What?”
Her arms wrapped around her stomach, her eyes dropped to the floor, and she whispered, “Shit.”
“What’s wrong with my last name?”
She slowly looked up. “Everything.”
