Page 28 of Thin Ice

“Noah, please.” Quinn grabs his bicep.

Noah stops his movement completely, and I force my gaze from my ex’s fiery one to hers. Quinn’s expression is blank, and my gut churns. I feel awful that this morning turned into this and that her experience here has already been soured.

I know that the woman last night was hurting, but she came here to make her marriage with Noah work, and she loves him. She told me as much while we munched on the basket of fries together.

And now…

I force all the feelings I’m having down, returning them to the pit from whence they came. Quinn doesn’t deserve this, and if this situation with Noah didn’t present itself, she’d be eating her breakfast and then heading off to the first session with hope in her heart alongside the headache she must be sporting.

“I’m sorry I came here,” I say honestly. “I’m going to tell Hazel that I have a conflict of interest, and I’m sure another mentor will switch couples with me or you can come back at another time.”

“What?” Quinn cries. “No!”

The conviction in her tone is so loud it stops me in my tracks.

She drops her hand from Noah’s bicep and pops her shoulders back. “If you’re our mentor, we’ll make it work.”

“Quinn—” Noah tries, but she cuts him off.

“No! I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but we’re going to go inside and talk. We’re going to figure this out. Because we”—she points to Noah and then to herself—“are not leaving. And you”—she points to me—“are not switching couples or leaving, either.”

She steps forward and opens the door to their bungalow wider, glaring at both Noah and me expectantly.

After a moment, Noah’s eyes find mine, and I know that if he tells me to go, I will. But then his gaze shifts to Quinn. He stares at her for only a heartbeat before his posture eases. He jerks his chin toward the door, indicating that I follow him, and heads inside.

Deep down, I know I shouldn’t go in, just like I shouldn’t have come here in the first place, but the universe help me, I do anyway.

Chapter twelve

Quinn

This whole situation is like an episode of Jerry Springer. If I was a kid home from school for a “sick day,” I’d be watching the drama unfold from the safety of my couch, eating McDonald’s fries and a plain cheeseburger I’d smushed into a flat disk before eating.

But I’m not a kid. I’m not in front of the TV. And the drama unfolding isn’t among strangers; it’s my life.

In the short time since I woke up this morning, much like the last few mornings, I’ve run through the gamut of emotions. When I stepped out of the shower, I’d actually felt good about being here again, a stark contrast to yesterday when I was upset and drinking my weight in vodka cranberries. I was excited, albeit nervous, to start this journey with Noah and happy he filled out his form.

Now, I’m confused and maybe—I spy Noah, who’s on the couch next to me, and across to Beck, who’s seated on the edge of a wing-backed chair—a little jealous? I don’t know if that’s the right descriptor, but it’s all I can come up with.

Last night, I enjoyed my time with Beck—probably too much, if I really delved into it. But I’d chalked it up to being lonely and wishing Noah would have been beside me sharing fries when instead I had a beautiful man who listened, who didn’t judge me, and was funny to boot.

Truthfully, I was looking forward to introducing Beck to Noah. More than once during our chat, I thought about how they would get along, that Beck’s calming energy and easy way about him would soothe my husband. Heck, I even hoped Beck would be our mentor. But now?

Noah and Beck are glaring at each other, muscles tense and tight, years of unspoken words between them.

Yes, I’m definitely feeling a little bit of jealousy. Or maybe it’s envy? Because I’ve wanted Noah to feel something—more—toward me for so long, even if it was anger or rage, because I’m sick of our lives being the same. Like I told him yesterday, I don’t want to be an item on his to-do list.

Then in comes Beck, the man my husband told me about during the early stages of our relationship, and suddenly, he’s showing more emotion than I’ve seen from him outside of the last week.

So maybe it’s envy or jealousy I’m feeling, but either way, this is not how I pictured my time here going so far. But it wasn’t Noah who stopped Beck from leaving here, and now, both men are staring at me like they’re waiting for me to mediate a situation I don’t know how to navigate.

“I think we should leave,” Noah says.

His voice is gruffer than usual, and I sit straighter next to him. It would probably be smart to leave considering they have history and I enjoyed Beck’s company last night, but I meant what I said to them, so…

“No.”

Noah shifts closer to me, taking my hand in his clammy one. “I promise you, I will go to whatever retreat you want to go to. We can find one right now, and we’ll go. Maybe we’ll find one somewhere cooler?” The corner of his lips kicks up, and I shake my head, frustration seeping into my gut.