All summer, we’ve been baking inside that tent, sweating through challenges and whispering encouragement to one another over the whir of mixers when we could. And now everyone is here to watch how it ends.
Cameras are literally everywhere, and I’d be lying if I said this amount of attention didn’t trigger my gag reflex.
Tripods line the edges of the lawn. Operators move quietly through the crowd, lenses already trained toward the platform stage. Microphones hang overhead like curious little birds.
Near the center of the platform stage sits a velvet-covered pedestal. And on top of it—my breath catches—the platinum rolling pin trophy gleams in the fading sunlight.
I glance toward the tent and catch sight of Alex stepping out, searching the crowd. He pauses when he sees the setup, too. His shoulders go still for a moment like the weight of it all has finally landed on him.
Our eyes lock across the crowd.
Julian calls to him from where he sits with a formidable group, fully decked out in business suits and designer sunglasses. As he approaches their table, he pauses to glance back at me over his shoulder and gifts me with a wide, dazzling smile.
Deliberation doesn’t take as long as I’d hoped it would. All four of our judges and hosts take their position on the small stage. Magnolia discreetly wipes a hand under her eye, possibly wiping away a tear. I wouldn’t blame her for crying.
This whole situation has been a lot.
Garrett steps forward, taking a dramatic pause and letting his signature scowl slide over the audience before he speaks.
“Thank you all for coming out to celebrate our final three bakers here in the tent,” He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “They have all worked extremely hard, and it’s my absolute pleasure to announce our star baker.”
I don’t feel the wind, nor the SoCal heat pressing against my skin. I don’t hear the murmur of the crowd or any of the production noise in the background.
Each second stretches into minutes, my gaze finding and holding Alex’s while we stand suspended in this moment together.
Garrett looks at Diane…
Then Alex…
And finally, me.
My pulse pounds in my ears and the entire lawn has gone silent, holding its breath in wait. “The winner of Season One ofAmerica’s Next Great Bakeris…”
CHAPTER 27: ALEX
“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.
