“But that’s not the part that mattered.”
He waits, completely at ease, while I sort through the feeling that has been lodged in the back of my head all day. I glance down at my hands, flexing my fingers.
“I had fun today.”
There it is. The thing I haven’t said out loud in years.
Julian’s expression changes. The look isn’t exactly surprise, but something close to it, mixed with a healthy dose of relief. “You hadfun.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” I take another drink, looking anywhere but at the smirking asshole standing in front of me.
“I’m absolutely making a big deal out of it.”
I scoff, shaking my head.
“I wanted to impress the judges, but I also knew I wouldn’t be going home today no matter what. I just… got into it. Lost track of time. Forgot about the cameras, the clock—everything—and just baked something I wanted to bake.”
“And how did that feel?”
I close my eyes briefly as I recall the day. The memory is still warm in my mind, fragile as glass. “Like something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.”
Julian nods, and I can see the gears turning in his head.
“You remember when you were sixteen, and you ruined that batch of croissants at three in the morning because you stayed out too late at Homecoming?”
I snort. “You mean the batch Chet made me redo over and over again until sunrise?”
“You cried,” Julian reminds me, a softer smile on his face.
“I was exhausted.”
“You cried because you thought you’d ruined everything for the restaurant,” he corrects. “And then you did it again the next night. And the night after that.”
“Your point?”
“My point is, you used to love this. And then someone taught you that having fun and being good at what you do are mutually exclusive.”
The words land harder than I expect, because he’s not wrong. I straighten my shoulders, but I don’t answer right away.
Because the truth is, standing there in the tent today felt like I was stealing something back for myself. Like joy was contraband, and I’d managed to smuggle it out without anyone noticing.
“I hate that he gets to take that from me.” The admission is bitter on my tongue, so I wash it down by chugging the rest of my beer. “Even now.”
Julian presses a warm hand against my shoulder.
“He doesn’t get to, not if you don’t let him.”
I let out a humorless laugh. He doesn’t push.
“So,” Julian says, lightening again. “Aside from baking revelations. Anything, oranyone, catch your eye?”
I glare at him, already seeing where this is going. I don’t know why I thought my attention on Taylor would slip by him unnoticed, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it would. Not only is Julian my cousin, the asshole’s my best friend and has some kind of sixth sense about these things.
But that doesn’t mean I’m in the mood to talk about it.
“Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting. You haven’t been this…humansince before starting withThe Harrington Groupback in the day.”
