Chapter Thirty-Six
A rgh!”
At the shriek of surprise, Mac jerked awake at his grandmother’s kitchen table, his whole body flinching away from the door where his gran stood with a hand pressed over her heart.
“Mackenzie! You scared me. What are you doing in here?”
“Last-minute recipe cramming.” A loose recipe he had been reading stuck to his face, and he swiped it off. Restless when he’d gotten back from Magda’s last night, he’d come in here because his grandmother had more cookbooks than he did. “I must have fallen asleep,” he mumbled, stating the obvious.
The cat walked across the books on the table as morning sunlight streaked in through the kitchen windows—
Shit. Morning sunlight. Mac searched frantically amid the recipe book debris on the table until he found his cellphone and saw 6:12 a.m. on the screen.
Thank God. He hadn’t missed it. He wasn’t late. Yet.
His gran came deeper into the room and picked up one of the recipe cards that cluttered the surface of the kitchen table. “You’re studying?”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugged, a little embarrassed by the effort. “Better late than never, right?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” she asked, her gaze still focused on the recipe card in her hands. “Not just for the show, but for everything you’ve accomplished. Of the man you’ve become.”
He flushed, fighting the urge to squirm. “Thanks. You’re pretty great, too.”
She smiled gently at his discomfort, looking at him instead of the card in her hands. “I wish your grandfather could see you now. He’d be so proud.”
“You sure about that?” Mac asked, forcing his tone to lightness. “He always thought I was ‘squandering my potential.’ He hated the baking. He hated the Cup.”
“He only hated the Cup because he thought it was you giving up your dreams for him,” his gran corrected. “Studying theater. Going off to be a Broadway star.”
“I was never going to be a Broadway star.”
“But you were on the path. You were so happy doing those campus productions. Being away at school.”
And then his grandfather had gotten sick. The cancer was already advanced when they caught it. Advanced enough that no one was talking cures. The discussions were all about life-extending measures and the best quality of life for the time remaining.
Six months. Tops.
His grandfather had gotten the diagnosis at the end of Mac’s sophomore year. He’d come home for the summer, and the idea of going back in the fall had been unfathomable. His grandfather had raised him. Mac had loved him more than any other human on the planet besides his gran, and he couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t take a deferment on his education so he could grab as much time as possible with his grandfather before it was over.
They’d said six months, but it had been over a year before he passed—and during that year, Mac had needed something to do besides watch his grandfather slowly die. The Cup had started out as a distraction. A project. He hadn’t wanted to work at the family’s inn, where everything would remind him of his grandfather—and where they didn’t really need his help, the staff more than capable.
He’d wanted something that needed his focus and his time.
And the town really did need a decent cup of coffee.
He’d become a coffee snob during his time away, and he complained about the lack until his grandfather told him to do something about it. So he did.
He’d grabbed the cheapest commercial rental space he could find—a janky old building with a cramped kitchen and not enough seating—and thrown together an espresso bar. Whenever his brain needed an escape from the slow slide toward the end at home, he would focus on the Cup. On how he could make it better.
When his grandfather had died, he could have gone back to school. He could have closed up shop and left. But his gran was alone, and he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t be that person. So he’d deferred another year. He’d channeled his grief into growing the business more, and then he’d come up with more reasons not to go back. All his classmates would have graduated. Did he really need a degree? Wasn’t he happy right where he was, keeping an eye on his gran and becoming a member of the community, focusing on the Cup?
“He never wanted you to hold yourself back,” his grandmother said softly. “Especially not for him.”
Mac had told himself that his dreams had just changed—though he did sometimes wonder what path his life would have taken if he hadn’t stayed. Still. He was happy with who he was. The friendships he had. The way he was part of this community, embedded in it.
He’d been telling himself he was happy for years, but now he felt that contentment in his soul. It was different now. Was that Magda? Or something else?
He’d taught himself at a young age not to want things that were out of his control. Like for his parents to want to be actual parents. He’d learned to let the disappointments roll off of him by not trying too hard. Enjoy the things that came easily. There were plenty of those. If you didn’t really try for something, then you couldn’t be disappointed.
But the best things in life were things you couldn’t control.
He’d had a crush on Elinor when they were teens—back when she only had eyes for Levi—and he used to wonder what would have happened if he’d told her how he felt during one of the offs of their on-again-off-again relationship. But he’d been firmly in the friend zone, and her feelings were something he couldn’t control—so he didn’t take the risk.
When he auditioned for shows, he never auditioned for the lead: Take any part they give you, just be part of the experience—and don’t rehearse your audition too much, because then if you don’t get in, it just wasn’t meant to be; it doesn’t mean you aren’t actually good enough.
All those defense mechanisms. All those layers of bubble wrap around his heart.
He’d had a lot of therapy. He knew all his baggage, but it was still there. It didn’t go away. He just learned how to carry it better. So it didn’t get in his way.
He couldn’t control the outcome of the Cake-Off . And he couldn’t control how Magda felt about him. But he wanted both. He wanted to win—though he also wanted Magda to win, and it was complicated and he wasn’t sure which outcome he wanted more—but he really wanted her.
And he wanted, for the first time, to try .
“My Shot” from Hamilton had been playing in his head all night. He wasn’t throwing away this shot. Not this time.
“I’m not holding back anymore,” he promised his grandmother, and her smile filled with pride.
“Good.” Then her smile shifted to something almost sly. “I like this girl. She’s a good influence.”
“What girl?” He hadn’t mentioned Magda to his grandmother.
“Boy, I’m old, but I’m not blind. The girl all of Pine Hollow is talking about. The one you went to see yesterday when you thought nobody was looking. Don’t worry. I won’t ask what you were doing.”
He was a grown man in his thirties—and his grandmother could still make him blush. “It’s complicated.”
“I imagine it is when you’re competing against each other for a big old pot of money and you’ve been quietly at war for the last decade. But I look forward to hearing all about it on a morning when you don’t have to go be on national television. And I’ll just say this: it’s really good to see you in love.”
The words clogged his brain like a wrench thrown in the works, grinding all the gears to a halt. “I…” Was he in love with Magda? Was that what this was? This feeling that made everything feel worth it—all the risks he hadn’t let himself take in the past. They seemed easy now.
Because he finally wanted something enough to care? And that something was her?
“What time do you need to be down there?”
Mac glanced at the clock, anxiety spiking. “Right, yeah. I should go.”
Go compete against the woman he loved for a quarter million dollars. As one does.
“Here we are, with the soon-to-be winner of Cake-Off Archrivals Edition and her two amazing very best friends in the whole wide world—on the morning of the finale, watching the last-minute prep that goes into the making of a champion .”
Magda glanced over at Charlotte, grinning even as she scolded, “You know you can’t post that anywhere.”
Charlotte shrugged, never lowering the cellphone she’d been recording on since the second she walked through the door. “I’m capturing the moment. You can post it after the show airs. Trust me. You’re gonna want this.”
Magda wasn’t so sure. Right now she was just trying not to lose her breakfast.
Fifteen minutes. She was due at the square—which was literally right across the street—in fifteen minutes.
“Nervous?” Kendall asked.
“Petrified.”
Cupcake leaned against her leg, and Magda reached down to pet her as her phone buzzed on the counter—she almost jumped, but that wasn’t the timer she’d set so she wouldn’t be late. It was a text notification. She picked up the phone and saw a message from Mac.
Good luck today. Own your awesomeness, my little baumkuchen.
She giggled and typed out a quick response wishing him luck as well—then looked up to find both of her friends staring at her. Charlotte had even lowered the phone.
“What?”
The words burst out of Charlotte in a rush. “Okay, I promised Kendall I wouldn’t ask you until after the finale, because we’re not supposed to distract you, but literally the entire town is talking about it and you’re giggling at your phone—and if you don’t want to talk about it that is totally fine because today is about you and I want you in the best possible headspace, all baking, all the time, but is it okay for me to ask what the heck is going on with Mac?”
Magda blushed. “We’re dating?”
“Oh my God!” Charlotte exclaimed as Kendall frowned and asked, “Was that a question?”
“No,” Magda said, more firmly. “We’re dating. And it’s fine to talk about. It’s not going to derail me.”
She had been a little nervous. Thinking about people’s reactions, feeling like the eyes of the entire town were on her. Needing to be her Cake-Off self here, in front of everyone. With everyone knowing about Mac as well. All her inner pieces had been exposed, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it wasn’t about being perfect Magda who always obeyed the rules and avoided getting herself in the gossip column. Maybe it was about being herself and going a little wild sometimes.
Because she didn’t regret going wild with Mac. She wasn’t ashamed or nervous about people seeing them together. She was excited. She was proud.
And she was ready to own her freaking awesomeness.
“Are you sure about this?” Charlotte asked, her face wreathed in worry. “He hurt you. And now you want me to just forgive him?”
“It was a long, long time ago,” Magda said. “And I love that you’re protective of me and you’ve always taken my side even though Mac is friends with your sister and your husband, and you’ve never made me feel ridiculous for my extremely ridiculous vendetta—but now the best way for you to be on my side is to be on his too. I really, really like him.”
She wasn’t willing to say love yet. She’d jumped to that conclusion way too fast when they were younger, but this… this felt completely different. And yet somehow perfectly the same. The connection was still there—all the times he made her laugh, all the things they had in common—but it was deeper now. Stronger.
“And you’re not worried this is about the show? About letting him win?”
“If he wants to win, he’s going to have to beat me at my best. I’m not letting him do anything—and no. I’m not worried it’s about the show. We didn’t even…” She flushed. “We waited until he was eliminated, and neither of us had any idea he was going to have a chance to get back in—which you absolutely cannot talk about. It’s covered by the NDA.”
Charlotte looked at Kendall. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“What do you want me to say? I’ve thought they should hook up for years.”
Charlotte gaped at her—
And the alarm on Magda’s phone went off.
Her heart immediately began to pound. “Time to go wild.”
Magda wore her bedazzled “Not Here to Make Friends” apron as she walked between Kendall and Charlotte toward the square. The bakery was closed for the occasion, along with all the other businesses that lined the square. A giant tent had been set up in front of the bandstand, and the backs of the bleachers from the annual tree lighting ceremony blocked her view of the inside.
It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning, and the competition would likely take most of the day, but the square was already swarming with people—crew members and townspeople and former contestants. The bakers would be performing in front of an audience for the finale, but that wasn’t what had Magda the most nervous.
This was it. What everything had been building up to.
A production assistant spotted her and whisked her away to the contestant area. She heard Charlotte behind her, grumbling about her phone being confiscated, as Magda was ushered into a much smaller tent and her own phone was taken away.
Eunice spotted the “Not Here to Make Friends” apron and burst out laughing, rushing over to give her a hug, before they were separated to go through hair and makeup, and Magda had to trade her apron for an official Cake-Off apron.
Across the little tent, she spotted Mac and smiled. He grinned, too, making an exaggeratedly fierce face to make her laugh.
The hairstylist gave her a little extra hairspray, making a comment about the long day ahead, and complimenting her on her curls—which for once weren’t frizzy. Charlotte had suggested hot-pink streaks in her hair for the occasion, but that was such a Charlotte thing, and she just wanted to feel like herself today.
Tim was focused. Eunice was fidgeting. Mac seemed relaxed. But Magda just felt… right. Like she was in exactly the moment she was meant to be in, and she had every intention of enjoying it.
There were cameras in the tent, swirling around, asking them how they felt, but she didn’t see Julia, and it was Greg who sat across from her at the confessional, asking her what being in the finals meant to her and showing her videos of support from her friends and family.
Magda would never know how she managed not to cry.
When they were done with the interviews, time moved quickly. She felt like she blinked and they were being ushered into the big tent, one by one, with Magda last of all. As soon as she stepped into the tent, a massive cheer went up, and Magda jumped a bit at the wall of sound.
She saw her parents. Her entire massive family. Her friends. Mac’s friends. His grandmother. Her third-grade teacher. Her customers. All the former contestants. The mayor and his family. There were Team Mac shirts and Team Magda shirts—and even a few Team Mac-da shirts that made her laugh and look over at Mac, who had entered before her. Handmade posters for Eunice and one for Tim, held by a stern older man.
Magda lifted her hand and waved, drinking in the moment. The buzz of it. The sparkle of anticipation.
She even saw Julia, up in the bleachers, though she didn’t know what her producer was doing up there. Filling a seat? Coaching the audience?
A production assistant directed her toward her station—and Magda looked at the baking stations for the first time. They actually looked remarkably like the Cake-Off kitchen—if you didn’t notice that the floor gave slightly beneath your feet, giant checkerboard flooring placed down over the grass. Ingredients were tucked beneath a box with a Cake-Off logo on it—as they were before a Skills Challenge—and Magda’s heart began to drum in her chest as she took her place and the judges entered with Jeffrey Flanders to a roar of cheers.
It was really happening. She was here. In this moment.
“Welcome,” Jeffrey Flanders intoned dramatically, “to the finale of the first ever Archrivals Edition of The Great American Cake-Off !”
Magda smiled. Okay, Mags. Just be yourself.