Before I can clarify his words or think about them too closely, he moves on to Diane’s station.
I don’t miss the way his eyes light up when he inspects her work. A small crowd of cameras follows him, closing in to capture his reaction. From where I’m standing, Diane’s cake is starting to take shape—and it’s stunning. Like, stop and take a picture, post it on Instagram, pin it to a Pinterest board level stunning.
My stomach sinks just a little as I take it in. And for a brief, envious second, all I can think is how much I wish it were mine.
“Bakers, have one hour remaining!”
One hour—holy crap, there’s only one hour left. Where did all of my time go?
My hands move faster as I carefully stack the second tier, lining the cake up with the dowel rods beneath it. For one horrifying second, the entire structure wobbles, and my breath catches in my throat.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. For the love of God, please don’t fall.
The big man in the sky must take pity on me because the cake settles, just barely, and I’m finally able to exhale.
When Theo announces the five minute warning, the entire tent fractures into pure chaos.
I pipe the final decorations, my hands refusing to stop shaking. Blue sugar crystals scatter across the countertop as I rush to finish the last detail of my design.
Three minutes… Two... One final swirl of buttercream…
“Time!” Theo and Judy call in sync with one another.
“Bakers, step away from your cakes!”
I drop the piping bag onto the counter, hands raised in surrender, and stumble back a step, my chest heaving with adrenaline.
None of us says anything as we make exhausted eye contact and offer wobbly smile to one another.
Alex runs a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of flour through his dark waves. Diane crosses her arms, studying her own creation with quiet satisfaction.
And me? I just stare, unblinking.
Somehow, against all the odds stacked against me, I finished my bake—and it might just be the most beautiful cake I’ve ever made.
?????????
Three enormous showstopper cakes tower above the table in the center of the judging platform, each one elaborate and decadent in its own way. The designs sparkle under the studio lights, frosting perfectly piped, colors vibrant and bold against the patriotic backdrop of the lawn outside.
Guests return to their seats, waiting for the judges.
Garrett folds his hands behind his back and steps forward, his voice calm but carrying easily across the hushed crowd. “You’ve all created remarkable finale showstoppers.”
Magnolia nods in agreement. “Now it’s time for judging.”
My stomach instantly flips. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not ready for it.
Theo claps his hands together once. “Alright, folks—let’s see what you’ve got!”
“Taylor, would you like to begin?” Judy gestures toward the center table, where our cakes now sit elevated like edible monuments.
Oh—Oh, God no. I don’t want to go first.
I swallow hard and step forward, trying to summon as much confidence as I can. Up close, my cake looks even bigger than it did while I was building it.
Four tiers wrapped in soft ivory buttercream, each layer decorated with delicate piping and bursts of red and blue sugar flowers. Thin gold accents shimmer along the edges like sunlight catching on glass.
I stare at it in awe—I actually made this. My heart bursts with pride. It’s everything I hoped it would be. And then some.
