Chapter 2: Until You: Chapter 2

I hold my breath as I finish the last bit of icing, my trembling hand threatening to ruin Noah’s birthday cake. I need this cake to be perfect, and I swear the icing gods conspire against me every year.

I exhale and take a cautious step back when it’s done, the edges of my lips turning up into a smile. It looks almost exactly like the inspiration image I used.

This year I went with a medical themed cake, since we’re also celebrating Noah finally finishing his residency after years of hard work. He always told me he’d be a doctor by age thirty, and he did it. It shouldn’t even surprise me, since my brother is the hardest-working man I know.

I bite down on my lip as I resist the urge to readjust the fondant stethoscope I made. If I touch it now, I’m bound to ruin it.

“Wow, looks great!” Brad says, and I jump, almost knocking the cake over. I turn around, my brows scrunched up in annoyance. Brad holds his hands up in surrender and smiles. “Sorry, doll,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I place a hand on my chest and shake my head, my heart beating a mile an hour. Brad walks up to me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss, and I relax against him, a smile finding its way onto my lips as he pulls away.

“How was your day?” he whispers. “That cake looks like it took you hours to make.”

I glance back at it and smile in satisfaction. It take me hours. I took half a day off work to make it, but it was worth it. I can just imagine how happy Noah will be when he sees this. I’ve made him a cake every year for the last twelve years, and I know it’s something he looks forward to.

“It was good,” I tell him, dragging my eyes away from the cake. “How was your day? How did the presentation go?”

Brad grins and nods, his hands tightening around my waist. “It went so well. God, doll, if you hadn’t helped me out with those last few bugs, I’d have made a fool of myself today. The client asked for a few final changes, but overall it went really well. I’ll show you the client’s requested amendments later. I can’t wait to see what your brilliant mind comes up with.” He sighs happily and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re amazing, you know? I don’t understand why you stay in the sales department. Selling software isn’t the same as creating it.”

The smile melts off my face, and I pull away. He knows as well as I do that my applications to move departments keep getting rejected. “Someday soon,” I tell him, holding onto those words with all the hope I’ve got left.

I turn away from Brad, allowing sadness to overwhelm me for one single second, my heart clenching painfully. Brad’s job is all I’ve ever wanted. Creating software that changes the world… that’s what I want to do.

I’m lost in thought as I pack the cake. I can feel Brad’s eyes on me, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything. I don’t have the energy to respond to his words of encouragement, no matter how well he means.

I have a software engineering degree, just like he does, yet no matter how hard I try, I keep being told that I’m more of an asset in the sales department, that it’s rare to find an ‘approachable’ woman that actually understands the tech behind our products. The worst thing is that it isn’t even a lie. I’m one of few women in the company — and the only woman in the software engineering department is so introverted that I’ve barely managed to say two words to her.

I’d move companies if I could, but it’s too late now. I’ve worked in sales too long. I have no actual work experience as an engineer, and whether I like it or not, being a woman doesn’t work in my favor. If I could go back in time, I’d never have accepted this job right out of college. I was foolish to think that working for any tech company would be good enough, that getting my foot in the door was all I needed to do. It isn’t that simple.

I’m still lost in thought by the time we reach my brother’s house and struggle to snap out of it. It’s silly, and I know it, but I can’t help it. The more time passes, the more it feels like my dreams are getting further and further out of reach.

“You okay?” Brad asks, as we walk up to the front door. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I turn to look at him, taking in his bright green eyes and his concerned expression. I shake my head and force a smile. “I’m totally fine,” I tell him, just as the front door opens.

“Aria!” Noah yells, smiling from ear to ear, his voice radiating excitement. And just like that, every bit of worry, every regret, every hint of sadness disappears. “Show me the cake!”

I laugh when he takes the box from me, his eyes wide. His excitement is palpable, and it warms my heart. This. This is why I spent hours baking a cake that’ll be devoured in minutes.

“Well, good to see you too,” I say, feigning dismay. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Noah hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t take his eyes off the cake box. He carries it toward the kitchen reverently, and I can barely stop smiling. His response is exactly what I was hoping for.

When we were kids, Mom baked us a themed birthday cake every single year. She’d surprise us with something astonishing every time, depending on what we were into at that age, and it was always the highlight of our day.

When we lost our parents, birthdays became more of a memorial than the celebration they’d have wanted for us. It was hard on me, but it was even harder on Noah. It killed me to see him heartbroken on his own birthday, so when I was fourteen, I set out to make him a cake. It was barely edible, but from the moment Noah laid his eyes on it, he was filled with the same excitement and happiness I was used to seeing. I’ve made him a cake every year since, and it’s become one of my favorite family traditions.

Noah hugs the cake box to his chest and moves so carefully that I can’t help but chuckle as he disappears around the corner, taking his prized possession to the kitchen. I glance at Brad, expecting him to share my amusement, but instead he looks angry. I raise my brows, and he grits his teeth.

“He always does this,” Brad says, his eyes flashing with anger. “He always ignores me. I was standing right there, but he only greeted you. It’s so obvious that he hates me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that type of rude treatment. I shouldn’t even have bothered coming. I doubt Noah wants me here.”

I pause in the hallway and lift my hand to Brad’s shoulders. “He didn’t mean it that way,” I say, my voice soft. “He’s just excited about the cake I made him. The cake… it’s our thing, it’s a tradition, and this particular tradition is sacred to us.”

Brad looks away and exhales loudly, his annoyance on display. “You can’t even tell me he doesn’t hate me, can you?”

I sigh, wishing we didn’t have to go through this right now. Brad has been convinced that Noah hates him from the start, but Noah has never done anything to make him feel that way. Even when I question Brad about his feelings, he can’t give me concrete examples, and I have no idea what to do.

“I’ve told you he hate you so many times now,” I say, my voice soft. “He wouldn’t have invited you over today if he did.”

I get where Brad is coming from, though. Noah hasn’t been the friendliest, but then he’s always taken a while to warm to strangers, and that’s what Brad is to him. I’ve never brought anyone home before. And with how busy Noah is, he hasn’t had a chance to get to know Brad, to figure out how our family dynamics work with him added to the equation. Noah doesn’t like change, and Brad has been the biggest change we’ve been through in the last couple of years… since we lost our parents.

I sigh and rise to my tiptoes to kiss Brad in an attempt to ease his worries. Much to my surprise, he takes a step away, his eyes wide.

I blink in confusion and turn to follow his gaze, coming face to face with stormy, dark brown eyes that I know all too well.

“Grayson,” I whisper.