“I figured that too.”
“I kept standing there with my hands in the food, trying to figure out how this ended without one of us walking away hurt.”
Her lips parted.
My voice roughened, but I kept going. “I couldn’t throw it. You’d have hated that.”
“I would’ve hated that so much.”
“I knew it.” I took one breath, then another. “I needed you to know I was competing against you, not choosing against you.”
Sunny stared at me for one long second.
Then she stepped into my space, cameras and crew and meadow and all, and put one hand flat against my chest.
“Flint,” she said, voice warm and steady, “I never needed you to lose for me to trust you.”
My hand closed over hers.
Caprice made a small, strangled sound.
Ed said, “I have focus.”
“Don’t ruin this,” Joelle whispered.
Sunny’s smile trembled at one corner. “I wanted to beat you.”
“I can tell.”
“I still kind of want to beat you.”
“I can tell that too.”
“But I want you more.”
The words hit me harder than any win could have.
I bent my head and kissed her.
It wasn’t the kiss I wanted to give her later. It was gentler than that, public and brief enough not to turn Caprice’s footage into a different category. But Sunny’s fingers curled into my shirt, and mine slid to her waist for one second before I let her go.
Caprice pressed one hand to her chest. “That is either the end of the competition arc or the beginning of the best sponsor renewal I’ve ever seen.”
Sunny turned her head but didn’t step away from me. “Caprice, please don’t monetize my feelings while I’m still having them.”
“I’m not monetizing them. I’m giving them deliverables.”
Ed sighed. “I’m putting that on a T-shirt.”
Joelle took the plates before a bug could land on them. “I’m calling this wrapped before anyone proposes to a biscuit.”
Sunny looked back at me, her hand still under mine. “Are we wrapped?”
I looked past her at the meadow, the cooling coals, the camera, the crew, the prize we hadn’t lost and hadn’t won alone.
Then I looked at Sunny.
“We’re not even close,” I said.
