Maya hits record again.
"Hi, I'm Trinity Lewis, and I'm the owner and head baker at Trinity's Table in Millbrook, Maine." Better start. More confident. "I've been baking since I was twelve, when my grandmother taught me that the secret ingredient in everything is paying attention. To the details. To the timing. To the person you're feeding."
I'm warming up now, finding my rhythm.
"I think the way to someone's heart really is through their stomach, but not in some generic 'food equals love' way. It's about learning what makes them happy. Do they like their coffee black or sweet? Do they prefer chocolate or vanilla? Are they adventurous enough to try something new, or do they need the comfort of familiar flavors?"
Maya's grinning behind the camera, making little 'keep going' motions.
"Korgan seems like someone who appreciates honesty and hard work. I can't promise I'll be the most glamorous contestant, but I can promise I'll be genuine. And if he's ever having a bad day, I make a mean apple pie that fixes most problems."
I pause, then add with a smile, "Plus, I've seen the show. Half these women are going to spend their time fighting with each other instead of getting to know him. I'd rather spend my time figuring out his favorite cookie."
"And... scene!" Maya stops recording and immediately starts replaying the video. "That was perfect! You were natural, charming, confident?—"
"I mentioned cookies in a dating show audition."
"You mentioned understanding people through food, which is romantic as hell. Trust me, this is going to work."
She's already uploading the video to the casting portal, typing in my information with the speed of someone who's done this professionally. Which, in fairness, she basically has. Maya's been managing social media for local businesses since college, and she treats every post like it's a campaign for world domination.
"Done!" She hits submit with a flourish. "Trinity Lewis is officially in the running to become the next Mrs. Korgan the Destroyer."
"That's not how it works. They pick one winner, not?—"
"Details." Maya waves dismissively. "The important thing is you're putting yourself out there. Taking a chance. Being brave."
Brave.Right. Because nothing says brave like potentially embarrassing yourself on national television for the slim chance of saving your business.
But as I watch Maya delete the first, awkward video from her phone, I have to admit there's something liberating about the whole thing. For once, I'm not calculating costs or weighing practical outcomes. I'm just... hoping.
Even if it's completely ridiculous hope.
"How long before we hear back?" I ask.
"Could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. These shows move fast when they want to, but they also get thousands of applications."
Thousands.Right. The chances of them even watching my video, let alone selecting me, are basically nonexistent. Which should be reassuring, except there's a tiny part of me that's already wondering what I'd pack if they said yes.
"You know what this means?" Maya's back to scrolling through her phone, probably already planning my hypothetical reality TV wardrobe.
"That I've lost my mind?"
"That you're finally ready to bet on yourself." She looks up from her screen, and her expression is uncharacteristically serious. "Trinity, you're incredibly talented. Your food is amazing, your personality is magnetic, and you deserve good things. But you've spent so long trying to keep everything safe and small that you've forgotten how to dream big."
Ouch.True, but ouch.
"Maybe it's time to remember," she continues. "Even if nothing comes of this, you put yourself out there. You took a shot."
I look around my small apartment, at the stack of bills on my kitchen counter and the photo of my grandmother on the mantle. She's the one who helped me with baking, who believed I could turn flour and sugar and butter into something that mattered.
What would she think about all this?
Probably that anything worth having is worth taking risks for.
"Okay," I say finally. "But if I end up as a meme, I'm moving to Canada and opening a maple syrup farm."
"Deal. But when you win, I get to plan the victory party."
