Page 7 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

“You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” He brushed a dark strand of my hair behind my ear, and I shivered in reaction. “Look at me.” His tone was gentle yet pleading.

I slowly turned my head and cautiously met his gaze. Those penetrating eyes were killing me. They were so damn blue. He looked surprisingly tanned, considering that it was almost winter.

“Wow … you really have my eyes.” Noah smiled warmly.

My irises were a mix of aqua and blue. Mom always said that I took after my Grams. Her eyes were a blend of topaz and cerulean. They were very pretty.

“Your eyes are lighter,” I finally mumbled.

“But yours are alluring.”

Alluring.No one had ever complimented me like that before. I was sure he noticed the rosy pink blush that was spreading across my cheeks. Growing up, I’d always felt like a tomboy. But all that had changed once I hit puberty. I wanted to paint my nails, style my hair, wear makeup, and dress up in girly things. By fifteen, I was attracting more attention from boys at school. If there was one thing I prided myself on, it was my body. I took care of it because I was very athletic. The shelf in my bedroom displayed various medals and trophies I had won during track and field events; I loved running.

Sitting in that cab next to—my dadmade me feel inferior to his beauty. I know that men aren’t typically described as “beautiful,” but he truly was. He was too handsome for words. I guess I could describe him as an immortal being that never aged and remained eternally youthful. His square jaw was clean shaven, and his attractive eyebrows were light brown and evenly arched. I tried not to stare too long as my eyes wandered down to his hands. They looked big and very clean, unlike Rob’s calloused hands and dirty fingernails.

“You’re married?” I asked, noticing the platinum band on his ring finger.

“Yes, I got married two years ago. My wife’s name is Vanessa. I’d love for you to meet her when you visit us in California.”

That explained the tan. I was silent and suddenly uncomfortable.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I meantifyou decide to visit. I would never force you to do anything you’re not ready for, Aria. You have my word on that.”

Why did I feel like crying? Of course he’d be married. Who wouldn’t want to marry this man? He was unbelievably attractive.

“Do I have any other brothers and sisters?”

“Unfortunately, no, but we’re trying. Hopefully soon,” Noah said with a smile.

The idea of having more siblings made me sick to my stomach. Secretly, I didn’t want any more brothers or sisters. But in truth, my subconscious was hiding a much darker secret … I didn’t want Noah making babies with anyone.Period.

“I know everything must feel overwhelming for you at the moment, but I promise not to rush things. I just want to spend the evening catching up at your pace.”

I said nothing as I fixed my eyes on my hands and fidgeted with the zipper on my handbag.

“Do you like Gucci, Prada?” he asked.

“Yeah, what girl doesn’t?” I nervously laughed. Even though I had never owned anything from those famous designer brands, I was sure as hell familiar with the names.

“Great. I’ll take you out shopping on Saturday, and we can buy you a new handbag.” His lips curved up into a half smile, and I melted.

Forcing my brain to accept this new reality seemed impossible. Noah wanted to take me out and spoil me. I couldn’t tell if this was a nightmare or a dream. It felt like a nightmare because I understood that I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about my dad. Yet I did. And it was a dream come true because he appeared to possess one of the greatest qualities I had always wanted in a father: generously giving without expecting anything in return. That’s how a father was supposed to love his daughter—nurture her with unconditional love and support, financially and emotionally. It was an investment … an investment my stepdad didn’t find valuable when it came to me.

CHAPTER THREE

ARIA

Noah politely pulled out my chair as I sat down across from his, scanning my surroundings in awe and curiosity. The restaurant he had taken me to was decidedly upscale and magnificently modern. I was thankful that I’d worn a conservative black dress to court. Most of the ladies around me were wearing fashionable cocktail dresses. It was semiformal, to say the least. No one was dressed casually. I personally loved wearing heels, and I rarely left the house without a pair of pumps or boots—unless I was jogging or going to the gym, then the sneakers would go on. But on that particular day, I had sensibly matched my ensemble with black tights and round-toed ankle boots.

There was soft music playing in the background, something by Michael Bublé.AndI could smell a variety of delicious aromas permeating the air from the chef’s kitchen, teasing my appetite.

Noah was studying me. I felt too shy to say anything, so I tried to focus on the dancing flame of the tea-light candle that had been placed in the center of our table. This didn’t help because I could still feelhis eyes on me. Thankfully, our server came by, breaking a bit of the ice for us and handing us our menus.

“Have you decided on a particular wine, sir?”

Noah seemed to know exactly what he wanted, since he didn’t even glance at the menu.

Maybe he’s been here before, perhaps with a date?I pondered.

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