“Really?”
“Yeah. Amazing visit with him. But most of all, you.”
“It was good to see you again.” She shook her head. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”
“I know. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together when I saw you on the street.”
“Your cake out there, it’s gorgeous. I love the way you used the macarons on the other layers. Texture and color. Very clever.”
“Thank you. Yours is beautiful too. You know I like the real frosting layers. Never have been a fan of fondant.”
She laughed. “I remember. This way, it was the best of both worlds.”
“You nailed it,” he said. “I guess I’d better decide what other recipe I’m going to bake. Technically, that cake really is your recipe. You wrote it down, you started the whole idea. I just helped refine and garnish it. It’s yours. It’s only fair that if they’re going to make one of us bake something else that I do that.”
She lifted her chin. “I hope they don’t disqualify us both.”
“They won’t do that,” Andrew said. “It’s not like either one of us knew the other was here or what was being baked. We’ve followed all the rules. We could have just as easily both made chocolate cake.”
“I guess so. Since we never knew who else was competing, we couldn’t second-guess what might separate us from the others. A simple go-to like chocolate might have been a better idea.”
“Keeping the show a secret from you was the hardest part. That night at your house I wanted to tell you about this so badly,” he admitted.
“I was dying to tell you too, because I knew you’d understand how exciting this is, but I couldn’t risk breaking the rules.”
“I know.” He took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. “I have to wonder how things would’ve turned out if I’d never left.”
“Don’t have regrets.”
He pulled his hands together, then put one on her leg. “But maybe we—”
A production assistant came into the room. “Back on the set in two minutes. I need you both right here.”
He and Kelly both sprung to their feet and ran to the door.
She ran her hands through her hair and straightened her jacket. When she turned to him, she raised her hand in a high five. “Good luck.”
“I’m going to need it,” he said, slapping her hand mid-air, holding it there for an extra second. “I want you to know that I don’t care who wins. For once in my life, this isn’t about me or what I want. I want you to have what you want and deserve, and I honestly think you’re the best baker in this competition.” He laced his fingers through hers and pulled their hands to his side.
He pulled her closer, but they were interrupted.
“Follow me.” The production assistant rushed them back to the set. “Right here.” She raised her hand, showing three fingers, then two, one. “Now.”
They took their places back under the hot lights. His cake looked like it could use a little refrigeration right about now. He hoped the WILL YOU MARRY ME? topper wasn’t going to go toppling onto the stage and break into a million pieces on national television. That wouldn’t be a good omen at all.
Martin Schlipshel faced them.
The studio audience cheered.
Andrew’s heart pounded. Right now. All of this. He couldn’t imagine being here with anyone but Kelly. He turned to her and extended his hand. What a magical moment to share together.
She laughed that incredible laugh of hers, her nose crinkling as she smiled, then leaned in and whispered to him, “Break an egg.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The energy of the studio audience amped Kelly as she walked back out on stage with Andrew right behind her.
The applause seemed to wrap all the way around them in a dizzying fashion. She looked at her cake. She was proud of what she’d put together. But looking over toward Andrew’s, she couldn’t be angry if he took the prize home. The cake he’d made was the perfect proposal.
“We’ve been so impressed by your culinary skills. Both of you. Your execution and presentation have been toe-to-toe throughout this competition,” Martin said.
The audience cheered again, setting off a nervous giggle in Kelly.
“Meet Andrew York,” Martin said as he walked over to Andrew. “How long have you been baking?”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is that I went to pastry school.” He glanced over at Kelly. “Honestly, I never intended to be a pastry chef, but my first culinary school exposure was an exclusive session in Paris under Pierre Hermé, known as the ‘Picasso’ of pastries.”
“Indeed,” Martin said, looking impressed. “That explains the amazing macarons too.”
“Yes, I definitely learned how to make them from the best. I now work with Francois Dumont. It’s been an amazing journey, learning new techniques all the time.”
Andrew continued, “Chef Gordon Ramsay once said, ‘If you want to become a great chef, you have to work with great chefs.’ That’s what he did, and so that’s what I did too.” He flashed his 1000-watt smile toward the audience, and a couple of girls squealed.
“Excellent. And you work for Francois Dumont in Paris now?”
“I do. I’m the Chef de Cuisine in his signature restaurant.”
“Impressive,” Martin said. “I’ve eaten there. It’s an experience.”
“Oh, yes. You don’t come to our restaurant for a quick meal. It’s a nine-course experience.”
“That it is,” Martin said.
“Now over here we have Kelly McIntyre from Bailey’s Fork, North Carolina.” The audience applauded and cheered. “They love you, Kelly. How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. Excited.” She looked toward Andrew. “Shocked that I’m standing here next to someone I know…or knew…so well. Until last week, we hadn’t spoken in seven years.”
Martin stepped next to Kelly, blocking her view of Andrew. “We’ll talk about that in a minute.”
An ooooh
