Mason’s already made his rounds, but he comes by again and whispers, “Chrissy and Christy burned a batch, and they’re scrambling to make another.”
I try not to smile; I really do. But, oh, those two are awful.
Anne hobbles from her station on her crutches, heading toward the ingredient cabinet. Since we’re finished, Sadie hurries to her. “Tell me what you need. I’ll help you carry it all back to your station.”
And this is why both the viewers and the judges are in love with her.
Mason looks around the room. He’s somehow lost his cameramen—they’re all busy filming cookies coming out of the ovens.
“Did Yvonne get in touch with you this morning?” he asks quietly as he comes to stand by my side.
I nod. Mason’s assistant called at half-past seven, asking for everything from my dress size to my preferred brand of beverage for the flight. I was only on the phone with her for five minutes, but I swear she knows me better than any of my past boyfriends.
“We’ll leave as soon as we’re done filming the judging,” he whispers, and then he moves away.
Now that our cookies are complete, I let myself daydream about New York. I told my mother I was going last night, and though she took it better than I expected, my father was not happy. After I swore for the eighth time I would conduct myself as the lady he raised me to be, he cooled marginally.
You would think that with two eight-year-old twin boys still at home, they wouldn’t feel the need to coddle me so much. They know I’m an adult, and they know I am capable of making my own choices, but they worry. I suppose that’s just the price you pay when you’re the eldest.
Of course, they worried about Riley too, but then she met Linus. Linus is a rock. A tall, handsome, sweet and wholesome, sandy-haired rock.
Mason is a musician—one with groupies. He also happens to have one major flaw that’s impossible to overlook—he’s not Brandon. I think all along, just like me, my parents expected us to end up together. They’re fighting some disappointment of their own.
I turn my eyes toward the ingredient cart where Sadie loads her arms full of garnishes for Anne. She gives the injured girl a big smile, more than happy to help.
As much as I hate to admit it, she’s perfect for Brandon. He deserves someone beautiful and sweet, and Sadie is both. Maybe it’s officially time I try to move on.
She catches me smiling as she walks back to the workstation. Instantly wary, she says, “What?”
I laugh. “You’re not so bad, Sadie.”
The girl looks astonished. “Um, thank you?”
A crash and two screams interrupt our conversation, and we both whirl around, toward the commotion.
Anne’s on the floor. She gasps, and her face has gone horribly pale. Chrissy lies on the floor next to Anne, sprawled out on her belly. The blond-haired woman pushes herself up and turns to Anne. The words that come out of her mouth aren’t fit for television, so it’s good the show is on an editing delay instead of live.
According to Chrissy, Anne purposely tripped her with one of her crutches.
Anne has the woman on heavy ignore, and a medic has already rushed over to assist.
“Harper, he’s not looking at Anne’s ankle,” Sadie whispers, horrified.
She’s right—he’s studying her hand and wearing a deep frown. It must hurt. Anne tries to hold back sobs, but tears run down her face. Luckily for her, she’s a pretty crier—the viewer’s hearts will go out to her.
We stand here, watching the commotion as Tammy yells at everyone to get back to work. The timer doesn’t stop for anyone.
“Do you think she’s all right?” Sadie asks.
Mason and several of the crew members hurry to assist Anne as she tries to stand, but it quickly becomes apparent she’s not going to be able to use her crutches with an injured hand.
Cole gallantly strides forward, leaving Jerome to finish up the plating, and picks the girl up, bridal-style. She blinks at him, overwhelmed, and he carries her from the kitchen, with the medic leading the way.
Mason walks over to Sadie and me, his expression grim. “The medic thinks she broke her hand when she fell.”
“A sprained ankleanda broken hand?” Sadie exclaims. “How will she finish the competition?”
Mason purses his lips and shakes his head, but we both know what he’s thinking.
