Until the world came back in. Shouts first. Then laughter.
"Well," Mrs. Patel’s voice cut through it all, warm and entirely unsurprised, "I was going to wait until you two made it to your trucks, but this seems like as good a moment as any."
Finn pulled back just enough to look at Ivy. He kept his arms around her, not willing to let her go even a step from him. Her lips were still parted. Her eyes dazed.
He'd done that. He wanted to do it again.
"Congratulations," Mrs. Patel said. "You’ve won the Valor Food Truck Rally."
There was a beat where the words didn’t fully register. Then the crowd noise picked up around them, people turning, clapping, calling out.
Ivy laughed, the sound bright and uncontained.
This was more than a win. This was more than the money he needed to make his restaurant dreams come true. This was a joint venture he had done with the person who elevated his cooking. He wanted to see where else he and Ivy could go if they worked together.
"We—" Ivy broke off, then tried again, her voice rising with it. "We won?"
Finn nodded once. "We won."
The sound that came out of her then wasn’t controlled, wasn’t contained—it was bright and full and entirely unguarded. She laughed, but it wasn’t just laughter. It was disbelief breaking open into something bigger.
"I don’t—" she shook her head, breathless now. "I always—" Another laugh, sharper this time. "I always come in second."
She looked back at him, eyes wide, something almost wonder struck in them now. "We didn’t."
There was a part of him that was a little sad that she couldn't sayIwon. Finn wanted to give that to her: a solo win. But she didn't seem the least bit put out to share this win with him.
Ivy’s hand tightened in his, her energy still moving, as if she didn’t know where to put it. She turned into him as if he was the place to land.
"We won," she said again, softer now, like she was trying the words on in a different way. Like she was letting herself believe them.
"This is just the start," said Mrs. Patel. "Next stop: the state competition."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ivy had not posted to social media in two days. She stood in the middle of her kitchen, staring at the tripod as if it was a date she had stood up more than once and it was still phoning her. The ring light leaned against the counter, unplugged, waiting. Her phone sat dark in her hand, the screen blank, as if it was also waiting for her to decide who she was today.
Content creator? Chef? Girl who just won her first competition?
Girl who couldn’t stop thinking about the man who had kissed her in the middle of the street before she'd learned she'd won anything other than his affection.
Ivy set the phone down and exhaled slowly. She was not going to become one of those women who changed once she got into a relationship. She had a business to maintain.
"Okay," she said to her equipment. "We’re working."
She plugged in the ring light. Set up the tripod. Adjusted the angle of the camera until it framed the counter, the stove, and the window where the late afternoon light came in soft and golden.
She had ideas. Too many ideas. She could do a recap of the rally. A behind-the-scenes of the winning dish. A breakdown of the compote. A "we won" moment her followers would eat up.
She could.
She didn’t want to. Because every version of it included him. And she didn’t want to share Finn with anyone.
Not the way she usually gave things away. Not packaged, not clipped, not turned into something that belonged to anyone who tapped the screen.
She wanted to cook with him again. Just the two of them. No lights. No angles. No thinking about how something would look from the outside. Just?—
Her phone buzzed. She grabbed at it, thinking it would be him. It wasn't.
