The Stepbrother 2: Noah

Creed-

Everybody but Noah was gathered in the dining room at my—well, our—house in Atlanta for breakfast.

We had brought his grandparents back with us.

We didn’t need both families in the same city acting a fool.

Noah decided to sleep in while I dealt with his grandparents, which I was grinning and bearing through only because he was angry at me for not telling him about his family being in contact with me. He didn’t believe I wasn’t being deceptive or trying to hide anything from him. I tried to explain to him that since they had called me about business and not about him, I didn’t make it personal. In hindsight, I see why I probably should have told him.

Maybe he would have worked something out with them before they came looking for him, because they were testing my patience more than my family ever did, and they had only been around for three days.

I placed a plate of sausage, toast, scrambled eggs, and a bowl of grits on the place setting in front of Noah’s grandmother and forced a smile before doing the same for her husband.

Mr.

Neil wasn’t anywhere close to as bad as his wife, but he had his moments.

“I like my eggs poached,”

Mrs.

Greta volunteered.

“And you’re welcome to go in the kitchen and poach as many as you like,”

I replied, trying to keep my tone even.

“It’s not my forte,”

I added, to smooth over the harsh edges of my reply.

This woman complained about something at every meal, but she always ate everything I cooked.

"Why don’t you get a maid? Surely, you don't expect to attend to us all by yourself while we visit for the next few months."

I damn near choked on the fresh-squeezed orange juice I was drinking. “What?”

I sputtered.

The grandmother nodded, and I could swear I heard her sprayed-stiff hair move with her head.

“Noah said he was going to talk to you about it this morning at breakfast.

We want to get to know our only grandson.”

I wanted to ask them why they hadn’t wanted to get to know him nearly thirty years ago, but I kept that to myself.

I forced a smile.

“I guess I’ll have a talk with Noah about that when he gets up.”

I shoved my mouth full of eggs to keep from letting anything else slip.

The next few minutes were filled with the sound of forks hitting plates.

My thoughts were filled with excuses I could use to get these people out of my house.

Hell, I’d rent them their own apartment if I needed to.

Just as I was about to excuse myself from the table, Noah’s grandfather spoke.

“So, Creed.

What makes you qualified to run a record label?”

he asked out of the blue, his tone and expression filled with condescension.

But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, so I asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’re young, female, and Black.

It’s not the type of business you all usually succeed in.

You should let Noah take control of the company.”

I mentally took back what I said about him not being as bad as his wife.

“First, my company is my company.

Compton Avenue will never be run by someone who doesn’t have my godfather's or my blood in their veins, married or not.

Second, I don’t see how any of those labels would keep me from running a label.

I was born into music. My godfather showed me the ins and outs of the business for as long as I can remember. I know good music because my parents are some of the most famous artists in the world. What don’t I have that I need to possess to run the company I have been successfully running for five years?"

The grandfather opened his mouth to say something, and something told me he was about to really piss me off, so I cut him off.

I knew how to walk a bitch back to the place they belonged.

“What made you qualified? Because you two lived in a trailer in St.

Pete, Florida, up until your depressed, drug-addled son lucked up and became the leader of a band that happened to make it. Then, when he offed himself, you took over the company he built, and it hasn’t grown since then.”

I gave him a pointed look.

I had had them investigated since Google didn't have much on them.

They came from nothing, which was fine.

My momma came from nothing. But she damn sure didn’t down-talk other people.

Mr.

Neil's face reddened, his mouth opening and closing, his anger even turning the tips of his ears red.

But I was beyond caring.

"Creed, you have no right to speak to us like that!" he finally burst out.

"Actually, I do," I shot back.

"This is my house, and I'm not going to be disrespected in it.

Not by anyone."

“This is why I found our grandson marrying you to be imprudent.

Your parents are trash, and you’re trash.”

My chair scraped the wood floor as I stood.

“Filthy rich, born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-my-mouth, multi-million-dollar company-owning trash.

And that’s just me.

My mother and father are world-renowned. Better than just being the plain old trailer trash you two are. Y’all are acting as if you didn’t call me weeks ago begging. Now you want your grandson to bail you out, so you're trying to get me to give him my company. The audacity. No wonder your son..."

Before I could finish, Noah walked in.

"What's going on in here? I heard you all from upstairs," he asked, looking from them to me.

"Your wife is being incredibly rude and disrespectful," Mrs.

Greta snapped, her voice quivering as if she was about to cry.

Noah turned to me.

"Creed, what did you say?"

I felt a surge of frustration.

I almost called this man a bitch.

He was immediately taking their side, assuming I was at fault.

For what reason? He didn’t know these people, and he knew I wasn’t naturally disrespectful, especially not to old people.

“Not too much on me now.

You didn’t even take a second to wonder what they said to me.

Maybe if you hadn't been hiding upstairs to avoid telling me you invited them to stay without talking to me, you would have heard what they said."

Noah's expression softened slightly.

“I apologize.

What happened, Creed?”

“Ask their old asses,”

I spat.

The damage was done, and I wasn’t going to stand there and let them team up on me and tell me how I was wrong.

Without another word, I stormed out of the house, got into my car, and drove.

To say I was pissed was an understatement.

“I don’t even like his pale ass like that.

Fuck Noah.

We can get a divorce, and he can go stay with those two snooty motherfuckers.”

I was in my car cursing out all three of them for about twenty minutes.

But the anger subsided, and I started to think about how I was already having issues with Maine and my mom.

I didn’t need the stress of having problems with my husband.

I needed my baby to be healthy. That meant calming my ass down. I still didn’t feel guilty about cussing out the two geriatrics. And they damn sure weren’t staying in my home for months now.

I turned and drove home.

His grandparents' rental car was gone, and I hoped they had left for good.

I went and checked their room and found their stuff still there.

Disappointed, I reconsidered trying to be mature because why, when I didn’t want to be and they didn’t deserve it.

I found Noah in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from breakfast.

I took a deep breath and approached him.

"Noah, can I talk to you for a second? Don’t say anything.

Just let me talk."

He turned and leaned against the sink and nodded.

I cleared my throat before starting.

“I almost fell back on old habits that I don't want to teach my child," I began, my voice calm now.

"I want us to communicate better.

I'm going to tell you how I feel, and then I want you to tell me how you feel, or vice versa, and we'll find a way to compromise.

I can’t be Troy and Scarlett, arguing all the time."

His eyes met mine.

"I'm listening," he said, though his tone sounded angry.

He had no reason to be mad, though.

I swallowed my aggravation.

"I felt attacked.

Your grandparents, they don't know me, but they made some very abusive comments to me, and I won’t even dwell on it or repeat them.

But when you walked in and immediately thought I was the one in the wrong, it hurt.

I know I got a slick mouth, but I don’t just snap on people without provocation. And your response was Maine-like, circa five years ago in the mall.”

"I'm sorry, Creed.

I should have asked what happened first, not assumed.

If you want to tell me what they said, I’ll correct them.”

I shook my head.

“It’s okay.

But about them staying for a few months..." I wasn't going to tell him what they said.

I might have been about to go a step too far mentioning his father's suicide, so if they didn't tell, I wouldn't rehash it either.

He sighed.

“I really would like to get to know them.

I want to know their motives for being here.

I swear I’ll keep them in line if you let them stay."

I wanted to scream no.

“Fucking fine.

Better tell them to keep their opinions to themselves if they want this to be a peaceful few months,”

I said just as the doorbell rang.

“You expecting someone?”

I asked.

I rarely had company.

Noah followed me out of the kitchen to answer the door.

When he opened the door, it was his grandparents.

Why they were knocking when I gave them a key was beyond me.

“And who is this?”

“We meant to tell you.

Your grandfather sent for his nurse.

His gout acts up from time to time.

We didn’t want to have to put the responsibility of taking care of him on your wife."

They invited a stranger to my house? I sighed.

When I stepped from behind Noah, his grandmother's mouth pulled into a smirk when she saw me.

“This is Elin.”

She moved so we could see her.

A petite blonde with huge boobs and light blue eyes stepped into view.

She was gorgeous.

I chuckled, just loud enough to make Noah look down at me, curiosity in his eyes.

Not interest, not lust—he was wondering why I was laughing.

I shook my head, thinking to myself.

His grandmother was a trip. I saw her plan a mile away. By some chance, Noah did cheat on me with her little plant, they still wouldn't have access to my company. Sure, Noah had me a bit dick-dizzy, but I was my mother's child. He signed a real, iron-clad prenup. He'd leave with what he came with if he did leave.

I had nothing to worry about, really.

I put on a fake smile and said, "Welcome."

Time was a mighty revealer.

Soon Noah would see his family wasn’t up to any good.

And I'd count the next few months as a lesson for us on how not to be toxic, entitled, manipulative, and greedy.

I also thought maybe it was time to call Daddy and take him up on the family therapy.

He said we could all do it over Zoom.

It would be irresponsible of me to bring my baby into my family without at least trying to repair it.

My fake smile actually turned into a real one as I made my way upstairs, leaving Noah with his company.

I wanted to pat myself on the back.

I was actually maturing.

It couldn’t have been more than seven in the morning when I felt a gentle nudge.

My eyes fluttered open, and I found Noah, fully dressed in a navy blue polo and black jeans.

He stood beside the bed and whispered down at me, "Wake up, I have something to show you."

I frowned, pushing my head further into the pillow.

I was still annoyed with him and his family, so I had gone to bed early the night before.

“Please, Creed.

I swear it’ll be worth it.

It’s a surprise."

Damn him.

He knew I liked surprises.

I sat up.

"What is it?" I asked, curious despite my anger.

"Just come with me," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I gave him the finger before swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No.

Don’t.

You can keep on your ugly pajamas." He eyed them and frowned.

I snickered.

They were red-striped flannel, covering nearly every inch of my body below my neck.

My grandma had given them to me for Christmas.

Noah hated them. I did take off my hair bonnet and switched out my house slippers for Nike slides.

I followed him out of the house and into the crisp morning air.

We drove in silence, the traffic not yet overflowing.

I watched out the window as the city slowly came to life around us.

Eventually, we pulled up in front of a duplex.

Noah got out and came around to open the car door for me.

I was so confused, but I let him lead me inside.

"Whose house is this?" It was nice.

It was decorated in a maximalist style meant to boost serotonin, with bright colors and mismatched patterns.

It looked like my Pinterest board.

The walls were painted in a kaleidoscope of bright, cheerful colors. High-end mismatched rugs and furniture took up the center of the room. A winding bookshelf that looked like stairs sat in the back of the room, filled with books.

"This is for you," he said, handing me a key.

"I know you don’t like my family being here, and I’m sorry about yesterday.

There's a method to my madness when dealing with them.

If you bear with me until I do what I need to do… I’ll love you even after eternity." He stared down at me.

I was taken aback.

"Why all this? When did you do this?" I had questions I wanted to ask him about what he meant by dealing with his grandparents, but I swallowed those.

I would step in only if he asked me.

“This is a wedding gift.

I showed a decorator your Pinterest board, gave her my card, and she did this.

Do you like it? You and Tempest can come here for your girls' nights, and you can have book club or whatever here.

I know you like to run away sometimes. Now you can run away, but I’ll be okay because I know you’re here, safe."

“Wow.

I don’t even know what to say." I really didn’t.

“Say nothing." He leaned down and pecked me on the lips, then took the keys from my hand and laid them down.

He guided me to the kitchen, where a breakfast spread awaited.

Fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and coffee—all my favorites.

After breakfast, a professional manicurist and masseuse arrived, turning the apartment into a mini-spa.

I was pampered thoroughly, with a manicure and pedicure followed by a relaxing massage.

The tension I hadn't realized I was carrying began to melt away.

Noah woke me as I dozed on the massage table.

I hadn’t even realized the masseuse had left.

Noah picked me up from the table bridal-style.

There was no way I would have been able to walk; my bones felt like liquid.

He carried me to the bathroom, where he had prepared a bath that looked like something out of a dream.

The tub was filled with steaming water, surrounded by candles. The air was fragrant with vanilla. He eased me into the warm water. The heat on my skin made me want to fall asleep right there.

Noah knelt beside the tub.

I side-eyed him when he reached for the shampoo but bit my lip.

I didn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about not wetting my freshly blown-out hair.

He carefully wet my hair, his fingers tender and skilled as he massaged the shampoo into my scalp, moving in slow, circular motions. My eyes rolled shut.

Rinsing my hair, he applied conditioner, combing through and braiding it into big, sloppy plaits.

He didn’t do a good job, but if he asked, I’d lie.

He bathed me, then helped me stand, turned on the shower, and rinsed me off.

I was so sleepy when he helped me out of the tub.

I could have slept standing up.

He dried me with a big, fluffy white towel, then dried my hair with a T-shirt, just like I always did, before sliding a bonnet he got from somewhere over my head.

He helped me into a sleep T-shirt and into bed. I watched with half-closed eyes as he took off his shirt and jeans before sliding into bed next to me. If he wanted me to forgive him, he was forgiven.

Just before sleep took me, I felt Noah’s breath on my ear.

"Would you like me to suck your pussy for you? You sleep better after you’ve nutted."

I would definitely take him up on his nasty offer later.

I shook my head slightly.

He wrapped his arms around me, and the last thing I remember was the kiss he placed at the nape of my neck.

Today was a good day.