Page 49 of Vampires and Violas

“I’m basically the head of investigations now,” Noah says, keeping the answer vague.

“Investigations?” his dad asks. “Like company audits?”

“Sort of like that,” he hedges. “The hours are better, but there’s more time behind a desk.”

“Are you still in the human resources department?” Cathy asks.

“I don’t directly deal with people as much as I used to,” he answers, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“That’s still so weird.” Britta points her fork at him. “I cannot imagine you in HR.”

“How’s the pay?” Dan asks.

“More than I was making before,” he says, obviously not liking to be the center of attention.

“That’s great, Noah. Congratulations,” Cathy says. “We’re glad to have you home.”

“Thank you.” He looks back at his plate. So far, no one seems to have noticed that he hasn’t touched his salad or the mashed potatoes. Like a picky kid, he’s done an excellent job of serving himself small portions and moving them around on his plate to make it look like he ate them.

He didn’t go hungry, though. He’s eaten two steaks and just polished off his third cup of black coffee.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Julie asks after all the dishes have been cleared. “I made your favorite, Noah—Black Forest.”

“She won’t make it for anyone else,” Britta complains. “And you haven’t been home for three years now.”

Noah visibly tenses beside me, but he pastes a smile on his face.

“It’s Noah’s cake,” Julie explains as she pulls a chocolate masterpiece from the fridge. It’s two layers, covered in dark frosting, whipped cream, and chocolate shavings, all topped with maraschino cherries. “I’m not going to make it when he’s not home.”

I have no idea what Noah must be feeling right now, but I know howI’dfeel if my mom made me a cake I couldn’t eat. Guilt. Regret. I’d be pretty darn angsty, too, because that cake looks amazing.

“Okay, everyone gather around so we can sing,” Britta commands.

“You don’t need to sing,” Noah deadpans.

“We’re singing, and you’re going to like it.” His mom places the three and two-shaped candles on the top to make thirty-two and then lights them.

And we do sing—badly, every one of us, and not on purpose. Noah cringes like it's causing him physical pain and then steps forward to blow out the candles when we’re done.

When Julie begins slicing the cake, I lean close and ask quietly, “What did you wish for?”

“That I could eat the cake,” he whispers back.

I laugh because he was hoping I would. But mostly, I just feel awful for him. And now that I think about it, I’d probably hate Cassian if he took cake away from me, too.

“Let’s eat outside,” Cathy suggests when Britta passes out plates. “It’s so nice.”

“Do you want a piece, Piper?” Britta asks.

And I see my opportunity. “I’m still full from dinner. I might just snag a few bites of Noah’s.”

She gives her brother a look that’s easy to read. It says, “Yeah, right, you two aren’t dating.”

Let her think what she wants. Noah visibly relaxes beside me, realizing we can easily pull this off.

I grab an extra fork, and Noah and I wander to the patio. Cathy is right—it’s the perfect evening. The sunset lights the mountains, and the air is still warm but growing cool.

Noah leads me to a porch swing just beyond the patio, far enough away from the rest of the family that they probably won’t realize he isn’t eating any of the cake.

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