Chapter 27
“Diane.”
Cheers explode across the crowd as confetti cannons fire from both sides of the stage, sending red, white, and blue paper spiraling through the air like fireworks. Diane’s hands fly to her mouth in shock before she gasps a breathless laugh, her entire face lighting up.
A whoosh of air leaves me. I bend forward, bracing my hands against my thighs, and suck in a breath that burns on the way down.
Theo and Judy rush forward first, pulling Diane into a hug while Magnolia claps both hands together, beaming.
Garrett shakes Diane’s hand firmly before moving aside, allowing a production assistant to step forward with the gleaming platinum rolling pin trophy.
Applause crashes over the lawn in waves. I clap along with everyone else, stepping to the side. Because honestly? She earned it.
I knew Diane would win before Garrett even spoke. The second the judges tasted her cake, Magnolia’s eyebrows shot up and Garrett went in for a second bite. Right then, it was over for Taylor and me.
Still, a small, stubborn part of me wanted it. Ten weeks of early mornings and constant pressure to be the best does that. But the disappointment fades fast. Relief crashes into me, something tight in my chest finally giving way.
No more alarms at six a.m. No more racing the clock with cameras pressed too close. No more standing over something I made, watching it get pulled apart for ratings.
Centerstage, Diane accepts the trophy, laughing as the confetti rains down around her. She looks completely stunned. Completely happy. And all I can think is, if it couldn’t be Taylor or me, I’m really glad it’s her.
My attention drifts to the person standing beside me. Taylor is clapping too, her smile wide as she cheers for Diane. From a distance, anyone looking at her would think she’s completely fine.
But I’m close enough to know better. It’s impossible to miss the glassy tears welling in her eyes, the splotchy red blooming across her cheeks. When she lowers her hands, her fingers curl inward slightly, like she’s trying to hold onto the moment before it slips through them.
Most people wouldn’t notice. But I do.
I’ve been watching her for ten weeks now. Somewhere between week three and week six, paying attention to Taylor stopped being something I had to do and just became second nature.
Music starts blasting from every corner of the party space. Another crew member pops a confetti cannon for absolutely no reason at all, sending a fresh storm of glitter into the air.
Cameras swarm the stage, red lights blinking to life as operators jockey for the best angle. Producers shout over the noise while former contestants spill onto the platform like they’ve been waiting behind a gate at a horse race.
RaeAnn barrels straight toward Diane with both arms open. “You did it!” she shouts, nearly tackling her off balance.
Kara appears a second later, wrapping Taylor in a tight hug like she can hold the pieces of her best friend together by sheer force alone. Her mom joins them, squeezing both of them close.
I can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but Taylor’s shoulders drop. She shakes as she cries.
After a minute, she untangles herself from their embrace, brushing her fingers beneath her eyes before smoothing back her hair and stepping forward to congratulate Diane.
“Congratulations,” she says warmly, wrapping Diane in a quick hug.
Diane pulls back, still clutching the trophy. “Are you kidding? That cake of yours was incredible,” she says, shaking her head. “Seriously, Taylor. Keep pushing. You’re really something special.”
Taylor sniffs, a little caught off guard by the compliment.
“Thanks,” she says softly.
Then Diane turns to me, grin widening. “I knew it was gonna come down to us, kid.”
“Yeah?” I let out a short laugh.
She nods, lifting the trophy. It glints in the light. I wonder where someone is supposed to keep something like that.
“First day in the house. Remember? You walked out on the patio, and I taught you how to introduce yourself. I knew then that you were gonna be my biggest competition. Could just tell.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
“Oh, please.” She waves a hand. “You and me. I called it then—even if I didn’t say it out loud.”
I chuckle, shaking her hand before pulling her into a hug. “You baked the hell out of that cake. You deserve this win.”
“Damn right I did.”
The crowd swells around us again, voices overlapping from every direction. It’s chaos.
Joe wrangles the three of us into a photo as another production assistant hands us each a glass of champagne. We smile and clink glasses on cue, flashing through a series of shots. Halfway through the mock photoshoot, my hand settles at the small of Taylor’s back, keeping her pulled into my side.
When we’re finally released, Julian pushes his way through the crowd. He exhales when he reaches me, giving me a firm handshake and clapping me on the back. “Sorry you didn’t win. But, hey… at least it’s over. We didn’t need you to win—we just needed you to be likable. And I think you did that.”
“We’ll see. Depends on the edit.” I smirk, my thoughts slipping back to my confrontation with Hal and the production team.
“Have some faith, asshole.” He punches my arm. “At least we’re getting the green light on the restaurant when we get back.”
Those words land heavy in my chest. When we get back.
Tomorrow, the production vans will pull up for the last time. We’ll pack our suitcases, hand in our mic packs, and scatter back across the country like this strange little summer never happened.
No more crowded kitchen counters at midnight. No more whispered strategy sessions over leftover pastries. No more Taylor humming under her breath while she measures flour. Something twists in my chest. I scan the crowd until I find her.
Beautiful hazel eyes, and those bouncing curls.
Taylor meets my gaze from across the stage. She tips her head toward the edge of the lawn, mouthing, “Escape?”
I nod.
“Julian, I gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Taylor and I slip away while everyone else is distracted, weaving through clusters of guests until the noise fades behind us.
My hand finds hers, our fingers lacing together in a perfect fit. Her thumb brushes easy, reverent strokes across my knuckles. I can’t look away from the contact.
The bounce houses squeak in the distance. The last light of day stretches across the lawn in soft gold. We settle onto a picnic bench at the edge of the property, the world suddenly narrowing down to just us.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
My gaze drops to her sparkly peach nails while my thumb traces gentle circles over the back of her hand.
“So… about that obstacle course.” Taylor finally breaks the silence, a teasing edge in her voice.
I huff a quiet laugh. “Pretty sure that’s a bet neither of us can win right now.”
“If you’re too scared, you should just say that.” Her eyes glint, warm and playful.
She’s distracting us from the truth we’re both avoiding—that neither of us won, and by this time tomorrow, we’ll be back in our separate lives, eighteen hours apart.
I lift her hand to my lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze the entire time. The challenge in her eyes fades as her lashes flutter and her breath catches, her attention fully locked on me.
“I was really looking forward to the prize you promised me.” Her voice drops, almost a whisper.
“We can still bring those ideas to life.” I wink.
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in soft peach and gold.
Taylor traces the edge of the table with her fingertips, lost in thought. A curl slips forward across her cheek, catching the warm glow of the setting sun.
I reach out, tucking it gently behind her ear, my fingers lingering as they trail down the line of her neck.
The small, pleased sound she sighs is the only invitation I need to move. I cup her jaw and pull her into a kiss.
Our lips move together in slow, deliberate passes, saying everything we don’t have words for. She melts into me, her hands curling into the front of my shirt, holding me like she doesn’t want to let go.
When I pull back, she doesn’t open her eyes to look at me.
“How are we supposed to go back to normal after this?” she whispers, finally opening her eyes again. “Am I really going to sit in a cubicle, dealing with customer complaints and being hassled by my boss every day? Ugh.”
I’d be lying if I said that hasn’t been occupying my thoughts all day. While I don’t love this house or LA, and I miss my own bed, I’m not ready to say goodbye to the incredible woman sitting in front of me.
There also hasn’t been the right time to talk about what exactly we’re doing together. I’m way too old to ask Taylor if she wants to be my long-distance girlfriend, where our dates consist of FaceTime calls and text messages.
“No,” I say, bringing her knuckles to my lips again. “You’re not going back to that. You’ve proven what you can do here. You’re going to find something better.”
She exhales, watching me closely. Her eyes look tired now in the fading light. “You should have won.”
I glance at her. She’s looking past me toward the celebration, fingers absentmindedly playing with the pendant at her collarbone.
“Nah,” I say with a small shrug.
Her head snaps toward me. “Alex.”
“What?”
“You know that’s not true.”
I lean back on the bench, tugging her closer until she has no choice but to look at me.
“Diane baked a better cake.”
Her brows knit, eyes narrowing like she’s planning to argue with me. “You still deserved it.”
She means it. I can hear it in her voice.
“I did win,” I say.
She blinks, confused. “What?”
I shift closer, bracing my hands on the table behind her, caging her in without touching her. I dip my head just enough to hold her gaze.
“Just not the show,” I murmur.
Understanding flickers across her face as I close the space between us again, our noses brushing in a quiet, almost hesitant nuzzle before I kiss her—slow, deep, intentional.
For the first time all summer, the future feels uncertain in a way that has nothing to do with baking or prizes or restaurants.
The girl who showed up late and made a mess of everything somehow turned into someone I can’t imagine my life without. Didn’t see that one coming. Wouldn’t change it either.
Now I just have to figure out how to make eighteen hours feel a whole lot smaller.