Page 65 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

My ensemble was soon complete and I was ready to head into the kitchen for breakfast. Grabbing my schoolbag, I walked out of my bedroom and quickly checked my phone for text messages. Vanessa and Noah were already up. She was fixing a cup of coffee, and he was sitting on a stool by the island. As I brushed past him, I caught a glimpse of the sports article he was reading on his iPad.

“Ah, look who’s finally up!” my stepmom greeted me in her annoyingly high-pitched voice.

“Good morning, Aria.” He didn’t look up at me.

“Morning,” I muttered.

Noah’s eyes remained glued to the screen while I placed my book bag down on the floor. Normally, we would hug or I’d kiss his cheek, which had sort of became a morning ritual between us. But today, I felt way too insecure for some reason. Maybe I was afraid of being rejected again. It would have mortified me if he pulled away from my hug and cringed from a simple peck on the cheek. I decided to avoid it altogether.

“Slept well?” asked Vanessa, sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Good, at least one of us did in this family.” She sounded patronizing and kept glaring at Noah, throwing invisible daggers at him with her eyes. I guess she was secretly trying to get her point across. Although I don’t think it worked, because he continued to ignore her, not giving her the slightest glance.

I shook some Cheerios in a bowl from the cereal box and then poured some milk, stealing secret glimpses at Noah every five seconds. He was wearing a dark gray suit (Dior or Saint Laurent, no doubt), with a white shirt, navy blue tie, and smart black shoes. I noticed that he always wore this wicked band on his right wrist. It was a leather woven bracelet, braided like rope. The leather was a dark coffee color, and although the accessory didn’t quite seem to fit with his formal attire, it did give him sort of an edge, which was kind of mysterious, in my opinion. Noah wasn’t just another suit at the office—he was so much more than that.

There was an uncomfortable tension between Vanessa and him, but I wasn’t sure if it was just betweenthemor if my presence was adding to the agonizing awkwardness.

“I’ll be home late tonight,” Vanessa announced. She placed her mug in the sink and looked over at Noah. “Just thought you should know.”

We were all dressed except for my stepmom, who was still in her pink silk night robe. My guess was that she was starting a much later morning than us.

Noah stayed silent as he swiped his fingertips across his iPad. Ignoring his irritated wife seemed like an effortless task for him.

“And that means I won’t be able to make dinner this evening,” she added. “You should probably order in.”

“As usual,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Vanessa whipped her head around and angrily tapped her long red nails on the counter.

“I could cook,” I blurted out, and that’s when Noah finally looked at me. It was so hard to read his face, but his piercing blue eyes quickly darted over to my stepmom before he spoke.

“I was just saying,” he paused and pleasantly smiled at her, “that’s no surprise, honey.”

Could he sound anymore sardonic?

“Stop giving me a hard time so early in the morning, Noah. You know I’m busy trying to launch this new swim line.”

“Yeah, well, it’s nice to know you’re busy with better things than constantly visiting your incompetent plastic surgeon.”

“He’s not incompetent!” She stared at him with a very cross expression, resting her hands on her hips. “Doctor Fielding has worked miracles on my face and body, and I’m always happy with the results.”

“Vanessa,” he stood up, walking over to her. “Dear…”

I watched him place what appeared to be a consoling hand on her shoulder before he continued, “The man’s incompetent because he clearly should have known enough was enough when he reconstructed your nose four times already. And evidently you’re not happy with the results, since you keep going back to him.” Noah let out an infuriated sigh. “I’m filing for divorce if you go through with another cosmetic procedure.”

I’ll admit, I would have hated being my stepmom at that particular moment, because it seriously sounded like he was belittling her. But I knew him better than that. He was just giving her a painful dose of honesty, and sometimes the truth really did hurt.

“You’re bluffing.”

Was that all she could manage to say?

“I dare you to try me.”

Vanessa looked like she was contemplating a comeback. I stayed quiet and grabbed my bowl before walking out of the kitchen, pretending to be oblivious to their argument.

“So,” she finally said, “are you saying you’re done with this marriage? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Noah? Because I’m trying my best here!”

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